Page 194 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Catherine hung up her mother’s call, and pushed away from the rented Rolls Royce her client had provided to take her from the private Maine airstrip to his estate an hour and a half away. The multi-millionaire author seemed to like his LSD and cocaine to help along his muse. The man was an extreme introvert, with no wife or children. At least, not that Catherine had found when she looked up information about him online. He rarely left his home.

Miguel approached Catherine with a warm smile. She preferred him to the other men her mother had rotated to work with her. The others all seemed a bit too interested, and tried to get too close. Miguel, on the other hand, was married to his wife, and the two had a little boy. He was friendly and protective of Catherine, but in a big brother type of way.

She liked that more.

“Did you talk to your mother, reginella?” Miguel asked.

“I did. Nice to find out she wouldn’t be getting off with you when the plane landed. A little notice would have been good, but it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t actually sound like you mind.”

Catherine shrugged. “It’s a beautiful summer day. I’ve only seen Cross four days out of this entire month, and I am this close to getting back home for an entire week of no interruptions with him.”

She was so looking forward to that.

Miguel laughed. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“Yes, let’s do that.”

Miguel made the hour and a half drive to the client’s private, gated estate in a little over an hour. She almost told him to stay behind in the car, but her mother had a point in what she said. Plus, this was the first time Catherine had ever handled this client after he requested a new girl deliver for him.

Catherine tucked her Gucci bag under her arm as Miguel helped her from the car. The three-level home loomed high, and stretched wide.

“How does one man live in such a big place all by himself?” Catherine wondered.

Miguel chuckled. “Rich people sometimes do strange things when they have all the money in the world. I think all humans sometimes want to be alone, reginella. Imagine having a career and the funding to literally shut yourself off from the rest of the world for as long as you want or need. You could have your food delivered, your sex ordered, and drugs supplied on your time and needs.”

Catherine eyed him. “Sex, too, huh?”

“It’s no different than providing any other service. As long as the adults are consenting, and it’s a healthy situation where both understand and agree to what will happen before, during, and after, then I can’t see the problem. Like the need for food, cars, or even flower vendors on the side of a city street … there is a demand where sex is concerned, for the able bodied and those not so able. When there is a demand, someone will always supply. It is when society forces those people to do business in situations that might cause them harm to keep safe from officials that it becomes dangerous for them.”

Well, when he put it that way …

“I guess you’re right,” she said.

Miguel grinned. “I usually am. Don’t tell Queen that, though, as she likes to tell me I have a big head to match my ego.”

Her mother, he meant. They all simply called Catrina by the title Queen, except for Catherine. Catrina was still just her mom.

Catherine poked Miguel in his arm on the way by. “Perhaps you do have a big head to match your ego.”

“Being smart does not equal an ego.”

She kept walking, laughing at Miguel all the while. She took the marble steps at the entrance of the estate home two at a time, and her heels clicked against the white stone. At the door, she didn’t even need to knock.

A man opened it.

Early fifties, a lost look in his blue gaze, gray at his temples, and yet still quite good-looking. He wore a crumpled dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and khaki shorts. Catherine was not sure what she had expected in her new client, but she could not say that this was it.

Then again, the man was an introverted, secluded New York Times number one bestselling author fifty times over. What in the hell did she know? Her mother made it clear that what mattered was a client feeling connected to their few moments with the beautiful ghost in their lives before she was gone again—nothing more. She was not to judge them, or pry too deep as to make them feel she was seeking more than what she was there to provide.

“Mr. Gordana?” Catherine asked.

The man nodded. “That’s me, my dear.”

“Hello, I’m Catherine. I have something that is going to make your day.”

“Where’s Cross?” Catherine asked as she stepped onto the private airstrip.