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With shaking fingers, she held up the card to read. Beneath the stain of her lipstick was an address printed in small blocked letters. Next to it, Jay had written tomorrow’s date, a time in the evening, and the words:
Wear the dress from that night. And nothing else. — J
16
In the Park Avenue penthouse overlooking Central Park, Julian languidly stretched across silk sheets in the Saturday afternoon light, knowing his now soft cock was being visibly caressed by Margaux. For an older woman, Margaux had great stamina and a huge appetite. He appreciated both. Just as he appreciated his body, which could not only take Margaux again, but if Skylar did show at tonight’s meeting, and if things did end up getting heated, he’d be able to satisfy her more than once, too.
The thought sent electric tingles through him, and he felt his cock thicken and elongate.
“As always, thank you, Julian,” Margaux murmured, slipping out of bed. Her long, dark brown hair, punctuated by shimmery strands of silver, flowed around her sensual body as she reached for a silk kimono. “I hadn’t anticipated us spending all of Saturday in bed, but here we are.” She shrugged but offered him an unapologetic smile.
Julian grinned back. “I’m always happy to be of service. You know that.”
“But not for much longer, I’m afraid.”
Surprise caused his eyes to widen. “What?”
Margaux sighed even as she looked at him with familiar fondness. “Something was different between us, yes? Oh, you were an exceptional lover as always, but I sensed part of you was just going through the motions.”
Guilt washed through him. He’d felt what he always felt when he was with Margaux—affection and physical desire, but he had to admit, there had been many moments when his mind had drifted away from her and what they were doing to think of Skylar.
“Margaux–” He shifted, but Margaux bent and hushed him with a finger over his lips.
“Darling, it’s perfectly fine. For all these years since Wesley died, you’ve fucked me with fire and held me with sweetness. You even let me call you ‘Wesley’ in the beginning. Allowed me to dream I was in his arms. And at first, that was all I needed—a way to satisfy my body’s deep desires and my heart’s longing. And I gave you what you needed. Sex and affection without commitment. Someone you could trust. But now, I believe our needs have shifted. We have a friendship and love, but we’re notin lovewith one another. Yet I had that grand love once with Wesley. And unless I’m completely wrong, I think . . . maybe you have found a woman you can love, too?”
The very idea of him falling in love was ridiculous. He scoffed. “You’re wrong.”
Margaux tilted her head and studied him intently. “Am I? Hmm, if you say so.” Stepping to the window, she looked out at the trees and people below.
Julian stood. Ignoring his nakedness, he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, then ran a finger up her spine before gathering her in tight. The act was one of caring, not one of sex.
“You know,” Margaux said. “I met a man once. Before Wesley. His name was Garrett. He was vacationing in Corfu during his gap year, the same as me, but on the opposite side of the island. Can you believe that?” She laughed and turned in Julian’s arms. Caressing his face, she asked softly, “Do you believe in fate, Julian?”
He didn’t want to, but he did. He’d seen and heard too much proof of it during his years as a journalist to deny it. Yet he also believed one wasn’t completely powerless to fate. Freewill still had its place. “I suppose I do,” he said, not expanding on the statement.
“As do I. I met Garett, and we had an instant connection, but you see, he had a girlfriend, one he was loyal to. He told me he would break up with her, but he’d been with her for years, and I didn’t want him to make that choice based on a chance encounter on a Greek island in the Ionian Sea. I was afraid that he and I were just being swept away by the moment. So I told him no. We weren’t meant to be. I regretted telling him that for a long time afterward. But if Ihadexplored what was between us, I might never have had the precious years Wesley and I shared. If you have met someone . . . if you’ve metyourWesley . . . then me . . . your other women . . . we could get in the way of your fate, Julian.”
He bristled. “My fate isn’t to be with one woman, Margaux. It’s not me. I’ll always be single and free.” It’s why he’d kept up the escort work even after he’d become so rich he never had to work again. Whether he was fucking a woman for free or one who paid him, there was no difference in what they shared. That’s exactly why he had a tenable defense if anyone ever accused him of being a sex worker, something he’d miraculously avoided all these years except for one question by the press when he’d been in his twenties. His defense was that hedidn’ttrade sex for money. He was paid to escort regardless of whether sex was on the table or not, so if sex happened in the end, money had nothing to do with it. Either way, he preferred women who were interesting and enjoyable to talk to, and he gladly fucked them, loved giving them pleasure, but only so long as it was clear it wouldneverbe anything more.
It didn’t hurt his prepared defense that he’d inherited his great aunt’s fortune, so he obviously had no need to sell his body for money. Even so, when he took an escort job, his clients still paid him, but now they did it by directly contributing to a specific charity, one he already made a hefty donation to every year. He liked it that way so lines didn’t become blurred. He’d known some clients for years, and that kind of familiarity made it easy to imagine something deeper could develop between them—if they paid him, it made it less likely they’d think that was truly possible.
Margaux was the only woman he saw regularly and the only one he’d insisted not pay; however, in her case, paying him—or rather, his charity— had been somethingshe’dinsisted on.
She laughed. “That’s what you tell yourself, Julian. It’s part of the reason you stayed with your escort work for so long. You’re chasing the persona of a heartless playboy when you couldn’t be farther from that. Well, the heartless part, anyway.”
“You have too much faith in me, Margaux. You always have.”
“One of us needs to. Now, tell me. This woman you’re denying. You met her . . . what . . . three months ago?”
He tensed. How had she known that?
Margaux nodded. “Three months ago, I sensed a change in you. You were still the amazing lover you’ve always been, still fucked me like a stallion, still made me come time after time, but there was something different about you. It was as if your mind was miles away. As if you were thinking of another woman as we fucked, the way I always thought of Wesley. And then today, when you entered my bedroom, I saw something entirely different.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“No. No, I’m not. Today, I saw . . . hope. Passion. And not for me. So who is she, Julian? Who is it that captured your attention all those months ago? Who is this woman you now have hope for?”
“She’s a mystery,” he finally said. “A story to crack. A puzzle to solve. A beauty to fuck. That’s it. She’s not the love of my life, Margaux. You’re as close to that as I’ll ever come.”
