Page 30 of Her Patron
“Only you and a few others. You are the only one, however, I know so intimately.”
She giggled. “Oh, look, it’s our turn.”
They forewent taking one of the shuttles to instead hop in the Aston Martin and drive farther up into the hills for the reception. Miquela had never been up this way before, but she knew that this whole neighborhood – if sprawling acres and near-city country living could be called that – was the rural living for the elite who worked every day in town but wanted some sizable property to call their own. Those who were more miserly and wanted more privacy tended to live closer to the Manoir than anywhere else. The hills, however, had the architecture, landscaping, and price tag to bring millionaires out to squabble over purchases.
Like in Europe, there were community amenities for those who lived here. One such amenity was a public complex sporting gyms, gardens, and reception halls. The main hall, where the reception awaited the guests, was a quaint manor on the way into the complex. Beyond it, past groves of evergreen trees carefully trimmed to still give an illusion of privacy, were the gyms and botanical gardens. The little manor was well equipped with everything a woman of means needed to throw her wedding bash: a large ballroom for eating, toasting, and dancing, enough facilities for those who drank too much, and a lounge stocked with a never-ending bar staffed by half a dozen competent mixologists. One of many coat-checks up front took Miquela’s travel coat and offered to take June’s sweater, but she declined.
“I’ll get cold as soon as we sit down in the air-conditioned room,” she explained. “Speaking of, let’s take our time and have some drinks first. I’m not in a hurry to listen to toasts, even if Monique will be rambling.”
The madam was here too, although Miquela didn’t see much of her since she spent the whole time sitting down. Monique went out of her way to say her pleasantries and introduce Miquela to her wife, Helen Warner, but beyond that, Miquela was happy to say that the only person she cared about was June, whom she ordered a margarita the first chance they had.
“You should tell me who these people are,” Miquela said, leaning against the far end of the bar. June stirred her martini before picking out the olive and brushing it against her lover’s mouth. She bit it, even though she didn’t care for olives.Yes, this Mediterranean woman doesn’t care for olives.All she cared about was enticing June. “I need to know who you make money from.” She grinned to make sure she took it as a joke.
One week ago, June had called her, yelling about being shut out of work for a night. I think it was Ms. Coleman’s bachelorette party, in fact. June now called every other night,usually from her bathroom, asking Miquela about her day and how her work was coming along. Sometimes, she asked more questions about her family and what it was like to live in Europe.
Then Miquela received one of the most unhinged phone calls of her life. “Maybe if you weren’t so beautiful, I would be able to make some fucking money!”Miquela didn’t know what that was about, but she made sure to tip June extra the next time she saw her – and brought her a box of chocolates, because even though she said she no longer menstruated because of her IUD, June still had the hormonal fluctuations that came with it.I get it.Way too well.
June pointed out everyone she knew in the room. There must have been at least fifty milling about the lounge, not including those who came up to the bar and departed again. Half the people were locals. Another quarter were other Americans. Foreigners were the minority, but even Miquela recognized two princes accompanied by their bodyguards and assistants. A Saudi prince, and a fellow European daughter from another tiny nation that was bigger than Monaco… but not as famous.
“Coleman gets around.”
June shrugged. “She’s in charge of one of the nation’s biggest companies. You only met her, but lots of others beat you to it.”
“Truly, I feel honored having been invited.”
June grinned. “I should be so honored that you invited me to be your date, yes?”
Miquela took June’s hand and gently kissed her knuckles, eyes never leaving hers. “Te amo, mi amour.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.”
“It’s Spanish…”
“One of the dirtiest languages in the world! You could say ‘Wash my socks by hand’ in that sexy accent of yours, and I would die.”
Miquela tried that out, careful to roll every R in a long, searing purr. Yes, June was definitely melting.
After they finished their drinks, they left to take their assigned places in the ballroom. Good. Miquela was starting to get hungry.
“Oh… good afternoon.”
June stopped, torn between returning the greeting and ignoring the woman pushing her way into the lounge.
“Could you give me a few seconds, Miquela?” She put a hand on her shoulder, reassuring her while she looked into the glassy eyes of the other woman. Sette Christie stood in her stuffy maroon dress, hair slightly unkempt – because she was a dirty artist, so there – and gaze turning from Miquela to June. The way she looked at June… it was the way Miquela looked at her.Fuck her.She knew it was jealousy bubbling up. She couldn’t help it. How could she keep from putting a protective arm around her beloved to make sure she didn’t run away with Sette? Like she was an animal in heat…
Like she also wasn’t kinda jealous that this she-beast in the sack – whostilldidn’t look like one – only had eyes for June and not the other woman she was with.Did I really mean so little, Sette?It was already such a shame that any potential friendship between them, with or without benefits, was shattered when they realized that the other woman was their rival in the bidding war for June’s patronage.
We’re all dumb animals. Fucking feral beasts who needed collars and leashes because they couldn’t be trusted with their own hearts and genitals!
“You do what you need to do,mi amour.” She kissed June’s temple before releasing her. “I’ll be at our table.”
“Thank you. Just a few minutes. I may not see her before our trip to New York. You know, for the gallery. I want to clear some details.”
“Yes, of course.” Miquela did her damndest not to growl like a dog in a cage. “Take your time.” She sent Sette a frosty glare.Does she actually see anything in her?Funny. When Miquela first met Sette without knowing their connection, she thought she was attractive.I came on to her, didn’t I?Miquela had no problem indulging in some lust, let alone at June’s discretion. Everything changed when love, and not just lust, was involved.
Miquela found the nearest usher the moment June left her side. After being escorted to her seat, Miquela made the executive decision for what both she and June should eat for dinner. She liked to think she knew June’s tastes well enough by now to order her the steak and vegetable plate.
“May I trouble you for a moment, Ms. Bolivar?”
