Authors: Shelby Reed
7
Shelby Reed
Azure’s laughter floated across the lobby like low-pitched chimes. “Ms. Cort, it won’t take you long to find out just how many brick walls you’ll hit with Adrian even here, in the place where he feels most anonymous. He would never agree to meet with a reporter on his personal time. Besides, I can’t imagine you’ll need him longer than a few hours. He’ll be very cooperative with the questions he’s prepared to answer, but I don’t want him pushed beyond that. He works long nights, and I won’t have you exhausting him. He needs to be on his toes, tonight especially.”
Billie nodded, squelching the urge to ask what was so important about a Monday night in mid-August, when even the leaves on the trees wilted from the heat. Perhaps a visiting celebrity held an appointment? Or royalty, for that matter. Anything was possible. Whatever it was, Azure Elan held a tight rein on her property, and Adrian had obviously helped to make her a wealthy woman. Billie jotted a mental note to question him on his relationship with the proprietor.
“Good luck, Ms. Cort.” Azure paused at the edge of the corridor and glanced back, her pale gaze lingering on Billie. “Enjoy yourself. Adrian has a wonderful way of sliding beneath a woman’s skin. I’d be prepared for anything if I were you.” With a parting wave, she glided down the hall, her white, silky tunic floating like diaphanous wings around her willowy figure, leaving the scent of Chanel No. 5 in her wake.
Ten heartbeats passed—inexplicably rapid heartbeats—and Adrian reappeared, this time at the foot of the winding staircase, so silent in his descent that Billie was caught unaware. She jumped up from the sofa, her briefcase hitting the floor with a dull thud.
“I startled you,” he said.
“Yes.” She rested a damp palm against her pounding heart and leaned to retrieve the notebook that had slipped from the outside pocket of her attaché. “I think I’ve been in a state of surprise since I walked into this place.”
Her bald admission brought a smile to his mouth. “You don’t frequent private women’s clubs?”
“Not on Mondays,” she said with a wry smile. “Bear with me, Mister…”
“Just Adrian.” He regarded her with open curiosity without moving from the foot of the stairs, and Billie returned the look, holding his gaze even as tiny currents of sexual awareness threaded down her spine.
His hair, damp from the shower, was brushed away from his patrician features. The white cotton shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled to the elbows, exposing dark, corded forearms that spoke of sun and strength. His khaki pants fit him smoothly, creased perfectly down the front, cuffs breaking just right at the top of his gleaming loafers. Casual elegance.
A single gold stud glimmered in his left earlobe. The faint, herbal scent of shampoo and expensive cologne tickled her senses all the way across the room.
Extending a hand to her, palm up, he said, “Come upstairs.”
She grabbed her briefcase and took a step toward him. “You don’t have a last name?”
8
The Fifth Favor
“Everyone has a last name.” His hand hovered in the air, waiting. He was forcing her to cross the marble floor to meet him, and like a Luna moth drawn to a midnight moon, she drifted toward him.
When she reached him, she took his hand and looked up into his face. “Is it Jones?
Smith? Or Brown?”
His lips twitched. “None of the above.”
“And you won’t tell me?”
“It’s not necessary information.”
She tilted her head, studying his angular features. “You don’t look like an Adrian.”
His smile broadened. “Imagine that.”
“More like a Carlos, or a Juan, or a Diego.”
“Those are Hispanic names.”
“Aren’t you Hispanic?”
“I’m anything you want me to be.” His gaze flickered beyond Billie’s shoulder for an instant, then returned to her face. “But for the record, Azure names all the companions.”
As if on cue, a door at the end of the hall clicked open, but from where she stood, Billie saw no one in the narrow passageway.
Adrian’s eyes burned into hers. “Are you ready to begin?”
What a question
. How many other ladies had he asked in that very same way, for very different reasons?
She nodded mutely and followed him away from the hall, up the elegant, sweeping staircase that led to a woman’s deepest secrets.
9
Shelby Reed
“It took me three months to get an appointment with you,” Billie said from a plaid wingback chair, watching Adrian as he knelt in front of a tiny refrigerator. “Azure told me your schedule stays full.”
“But I’m free now.” He withdrew a pitcher of orange juice and straightened to his full height. Six feet or so, she guessed. He looked as well suited to the elegant bedroom as the handsome, ecru-striped comforter and matching draperies. “Have you had breakfast?” he asked over the splash of juice filling the glass.
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Then you should drink something.” He returned to the sitting area in front of the fireplace and handed her a crystal glass.
She eyed its orange, pulpy contents. “This looks too healthy for the likes of me. I’m fairly sure coffee runs through my veins.”
“Is that why your hands are shaking?”
Embarrassed, Billie shrugged and took a sip of the chilled juice. “Let’s start with basic information.” She set the glass on a tiny round table and reached into her attaché for a hand-held recorder. “How old are you?”
Cradling his own glass in his hands, he sat on an identical chair across from her.
“Twenty-eight.”
Ageless to a hungry woman’s eyes. “And your background…do you have a degree?”
“An undergraduate degree in sociology. Further educational pursuits were interrupted by all this…opportunity.” He gestured to the plush surroundings.
To her left, a marble-mantel fireplace spanned half the wall. Reproduction paintings in ornate frames flanked what appeared to be a bathroom door across the room. The brocade curtains were drawn on all four windows, with only a sliver of morning sun peeking through the heavy silk material.
No personal touches anywhere. Nothing to mark the surroundings as Adrian’s, just cool elegance. Billie’s gaze darted back to his face. “Is this your personal room?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t live here.”
“I have another residence in the city.”
“I see.” She withdrew a pen from her briefcase and scrawled notes across a tiny, spiral-bound pad. His answers stirred new questions. “Do you live with anyone?”
At his silence, she looked up and found him smiling.
10
The Fifth Favor
“I live with Rudy,” he said.
Billie’s eyebrows rose. “Your…lover?”
“My Labrador.”
She returned her attention to her notepad. “Azure said you wouldn’t answer personal questions.”
“It depends on what they are.” He took another swallow of orange juice and ran a thumb across his bottom lip, his dark gaze steady on her face. “I’ll let you know if you cross the line.”
Without directly meeting his eyes, Billie said, “Are you bisexual?”
He didn’t seem surprised by the question. “That’s a loose term nowadays, Ms.
Cort.”
“But do you have sex with men?”
“No.”
“Have you ever?”
“I could be very wealthy if I did things differently, but the answer is no.”
“You must be doing something right,” Billie pointed out. “Your clothes, your style, everything about you speaks of money.”
“I’m comfortable. I buy what I need, and I want for nothing material.”
“So what
do
you want for, Adrian?”
Their eyes locked, and her heart stuttered just once before it thundered into a reckless dance behind her breast. She burned all over, as though her entire being had passed through a flame.
He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “What does any man want?” he asked softly, searching her face as though the answer could be found there.
“Or any woman?”
Billie breathed in his cologne. Soft musk, a hint of patchouli. “A home. Nice things.
A family. Someone to love.”
“Three out of four isn’t bad.” His lashes dropped as he considered the glass in his hands. “What else, Ms. Cort?”
“Will you tell me about your family?”
His gaze returned to her face, shuttered. “No.”
“Do you love anyone?”
“My family,” he said, and the slight narrowing of his eyes warned her away from the topic.
After several more moments of stop and go, Billie landed on the subject of Azure Elan, and some of the tension left his broad shoulders as he sat back in the chair’s winged embrace, his long legs stretched out before him.
11
Shelby Reed
“I met Azure at a party when I was a college student. By working for her, I was able to pay for my education.”
“And you went to work for her, knowing fully what a companion at Avalon does?”
“Yes. But I began here as a bartender, not sure if I wanted the lifestyle. Gradually, thanks to the generous attention and support of some of the patrons…” He arched a brow and left the thought hanging.
Billie made a note on her pad. “The clients suggested that Azure promote you?”
“A few weeks into my employment, yes.”
“That didn’t take long.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “No. The vote of confidence was quite flattering.”
She moved the recorder to the table by her elbow. “What’s your relationship with Azure?”
“She’s my employer,” he said. “The boss.”
Billie raised her brows. “And nothing more?”
“Nothing more.”
“What about before? When she first hired you?” When he stared back at her without responding, she added, “Adrian, I need to capture as much of your world as possible in a few short hours. In your line of work, doesn’t a club owner like Azure sample what she offers her customers?”
“Maybe you should ask Azure.”
It was too soon to plumb that particular shadowy corner. She could come back to it.
Her next question would probably meet with the same stony dead end, but it was worth a shot. “You sleep with a lot of women,” she began, drawing aimless scrawls on her notepad. “Do you ever find yourself…personally involved?”
Adrian shifted to set his glass on a nearby table. “Ms. Cort, every woman I’ve ever touched has elicited some sort of response from me. Sometimes it’s romantic.
Sometimes companionable. Other times it’s passionate, because what male with blood running through his veins could help it? Despite the unique and misunderstood nature of my position, I’m a man like any other. Women move me. All women, in one way or another.”
Yet he seemed so detached. She couldn’t picture him riled or moved or emotional, despite his eloquent claims. She scribbled a few words, clicked her pen twice, then sat back to study him. Her attention wandered lower, to the triangle of skin at his open collar, to the fine, dark hair that sprinkled his forearms, to his fingers, skilled in pleasure, which had touched a thousand women. For an instant she imagined them on her. Pulling away her beige linen suit jacket, tugging the silk shell from her skirt, sliding beneath to soothe her burning skin. Every nerve in her body danced.
Clearing her throat, she crossed one knee over the other and subtly squeezed to ease the ache building between her thighs. “I’d like that coffee now,” she said.
12
The Fifth Favor
* * * * *
An hour later, Billie clicked off the tape recorder and tucked a wave of hair behind her ear. “Let’s take a break.”
He stood, laced his fingers behind his head and gave a shuddering stretch. He reminded her of a panther, glossy and primal. Darkness lingered beneath his elegant surface, made Billie acutely aware of herself, her surroundings, her words. Almost as though she should protect herself, and yet she couldn’t identify the danger.
“Are you getting the information you’re after?” he asked as she stood and roamed the perimeter of the room.
“Most of it, anyway.” She kept her tone light, even as she sensed his regard moving over her like a warm current. “You’re not an easy subject.”
“What haven’t I told you, besides a few personal details?”
“Your life story.”
“Hmm.” His lips curved in a smile. “What else?”
“A client’s experience. I mean minute by minute. Since the members here guard their privacy like the crown jewels, maybe you could fill me in on the more graphic details when we resume.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She purposely avoided his eyes and studied the fine furnishings as she wandered, trailing her fingers along gilded edges and sleek, polished wood. The king-sized four-poster bed held a feather mattress so thick, it rose two feet from the box springs.
At the bathroom door, she paused. “May I?”
“Go ahead.”
Cautiously, she peeked inside the room and caught her breath. Her reflection leaped back at her from every angle, surrounded by Travertine marble.
“This is incredible.” She stepped inside and turned a slow circle, taking in the twin marble washbasins, granite-topped vanities, gleaming gold-leafed fixtures. The walls were covered entirely in mirrors. A bathtub, large enough for six adults, sat cattycornered in an alcove, engulfed in exotic plants.
In the corner of the tub, rising from the foliage, a three-foot Kouros statue stood ready to spout water from its palms with a turn of the gilded fixtures at its foot.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Billie said, when a hundred reflections of Adrian appeared behind her. “Where do those doors lead?”
He crossed to three knobs jutting unobtrusively from the mirrors. “One holds a toilet and bidet. This one’s a closet. And this one—” He flung open the door. “This is a shower.”
Billie moved beside him and peered into the dim chamber. The entire space was tiled in alabaster, with double showerheads extending from each of three sides. “My God. You could throw a party in here.”
13
Shelby Reed
“Perceptive.” When her gaze flew to his, he smiled. “How old are you, Billie?”