Serving Mr. Serrano

Introduction Meeting

I woke up with a throbbing headache and a dry mouth. I reached blindly for my phone as it continued to vibrate on the bedside cabinet and pushed the lock button to reject the call. The last thing I needed right now was-

It rang again, as if more insistently this time, and I groaned before pulling my head out from underneath the pile of pillows I'd been forced to hide under, away from the persistent glare of the sun.

I winced when I opened my eyes, and blinked a couple times to clear the fog of sleep and alcohol from my brain before answering the phone.

"Yes?" my voice came out as a husky croak, and I had to clear my throat gently as I sat up.

"Where are you?"

Ah, Mona. Of course.

Probably calling about a client. She never bothered me otherwise. But today was supposed to be my day off from work. It's the only reason I'd gone and drunk myself into a near-coma last night.

I groaned. "I'm at my place. I hope you're not calling me about a client because today is–"

"Your day off. I know, and I wouldn't call you otherwise, but this client asked for you specifically."

I ran a hand over my face and sighed dramatically, resigned to cutting my day short for the s****l needs of rich men.

"It's not Kane is it?" I asked, scrunching up my nose in distaste. He was the only client Mona ever called me about because he spent so much money on me.

"No, it's not. I'm not exactly sure who it is. I received a call from on-high, asking me to prepare you for an introduction meeting at three–"

"What? That's two hours away, Mona. What the f**k?"

"I've been calling you for the past six hours. What on earth have you been doing this entire time?" she complained, raising her voice for the first time since I'd met her.

I was quiet for a long time, just staring ahead at a spot in the distance, trying to find a very, very nice way to tell Mona to f**k off. But, of course, I can't do that. Not when she was obviously freaking out and desperately needed me to be there.

"I'll grab a quick shower and head over. Do you already have something for me to wear, or should I just grab a dress from here?"

"Timothy already has something ready for you," Mona said in a sing-song voice. This was her way of silently telling me to hurry the f**k up.

"Okay, I'll be there in like, twenty minutes, I promise. Then you can doll me up and make me as pretty as you want," I told her.

I hung up, lazily climbing off my bed and walking towards my bathroom, scratching at my tummy as I did so. With one last yawn, I stripped and got in the shower, allowing the water to drench me and my hair.

The water helped to clear the fog of sleep from my brain, and thirty minutes later I was feeling refreshed, ready to seize the afternoon. I threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, then slid into the driver's seat of my Evoque with a pair of aviators to shield my eyes from the sun. I could've walked the two blocks to Le Petite Mort, but I might have passed out from dehydration if I did that.

Honestly.

Unlike the exclusive clientele we serve, we didn't enter LPM through the front doors. There was an underground basement where we parked our cars, and an elevator that took us up to any of the ten floors in the building. Because it was a lavish pleasure dome, LPM didn't have to attract too much attention to stand out. Our reputation alone was enough to bring existing clients back, and lure in more.

Dominic Serrano changed the rules of our business when he took over, rebranding every brothel and strip club in his territory to better serve the employees. Because of him, no more young people were taken off the streets to serve as prostitutes and strippers. He thought it better for business if they came willingly, attracted by the money they'd be earning, the benefits and the protection.

We received thirty-percent of the cash we earned, and got to keep whatever tips the clients gave us. We were all assigned to a specific HQ in different areas of the city, each with their different handlers, depending on how big the establishment was. Ours only had about twenty girls and ten guys at a time, so we only had two handlers at LPM.

Mona Gould and Selena Romero.

Like Chae, all my clients were handled by Mona. She served as a kind of middleman between us and the clients, so we could maintain that barrier of protection Serrano had so carefully placed around us. Yara and Tay worked under Selena. She was a lot nicer than Mona, but my handler had her mom moments as well. That she worried so much about our mental health was evidence that she cared about her girls.

"A woman who has a healthy relationship with herself is a woman who can take over the world," she always said.

Anyway, I was due to meet with her before my introductory meeting with a potential new client.

"I have no idea who he is," she admitted, her French accent more pronounced this afternoon. "I received a call from my boss's boss's boss, who told me to have you ready for a meeting at three this afternoon."

That wasn't entirely unusual.

Most of our clients were high-profile businesspeople, politicians, celebrities… Privacy was important to them.

"Did they say what the client may want from me?"

"Just that you came highly recommended. Do you have an idea who it might be?" she asked, turning away from the floor-to-ceiling windows to look at me.

I shook my head, poured us both a glass of water and handed her one. She sips it slowly, then returns her attention to the view.

And what a sight.

There was a river on this side of Nito, flowing from Nito South well into the North, and it had been kept pristine by the EPA because of all the aquatic life it boasted. People weren't allowed to fish or swim in case they disturbed the fragile ecosystem. It was one of the most beautiful sites left in the country. My mother used to take me there when I was a kid, and we'd sit on the benches, eating ice cream.

"While we're on the issue of clients, have you been to the therapist? Regarding what happened with Hudson?" she questioned, turning slightly.

"Mona…"

She frowned, tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind an ear and looked sternly at me with her blue eyes. "Last time this happened, you almost killed someone."

"Because he tried to take advantage. Am I not allowed to defend myself?"

She sighed, reaching out to caress my arm. "Of course, you are allowed to, chér. I'm just concerned that this assault may affect you in ways you're not yet aware of."

She was probably right.

Last time something like this happened, I bottled it up until I exploded. Fortunately, my loss of temper had happened indoors. Unfortunately, it was at a private dinner party at said client and his wife's estate. He'd been hospitalised after I'd broken his jaw and nearly shattered his cheekbone. I'd also managed to stab him just a little with my fork, since my date at the time had wrestled the knife out of my hand.

Of course, he didn't file any charges because the police would have asked questions, and the last thing a man like him needed was to have any kind of stain on his reputation. And last I checked, he was running for Premier of this very province.

"I spoke about it this time. With the girls, with you. If I feel any anger or anything, I promise I'll schedule an appointment."

She nodded. "Very well. I'll let it go. For now, though, I think you should probably head downstairs to the stylists and get ready. How long since you waxed?"

"Mona."

"When was the last time you ate something?" she interrogated, narrowing her eyes. "Maybe have a coffee before your meeting."

"Mona."

"Or detoxed. Your skin looks a little-"

"Mona!"

I brushed her hand away when she tried to grab one of my cheeks, and she frowned at me with obvious disapproval. "Start at the spa. You need a manicure too. Your nails are like claws."

My nails were perfectly fine. I'd only recently had them done for Serrano's birthday celebration a few days ago. "You're so mean," I whined, gulping down my water. I put my glass down and grabbed my bag, walking towards the door.

"Good luck, ma cherie."

I threw one last look over my shoulder before I closed the door. I shook my head at her words and found myself smiling at her annoying, maternal nature. I did take her advice and went to the spa downstairs for a facial, though. Afterwards, I practically skipped to the stylists' floor, where I was greeted by the team and a variety of dresses. Timothy handed me a carmine red dress and a pair of nude stilettos before pushing me off to get my hair and make-up done. And as I sat there, my hair pinned into a pile on top of my head, I let my mind wander.

Who was this mystery client?

Whoever they were, they obviously had a reputation to maintain and couldn't risk their identity getting out to the public.

We'd had plenty of those before, so they needn't have worried about anyone here running off to the media with news that they lay with whores. Everyone did it.

Athletes, politicians, actors and actresses, singers, directors, CEOs… They'd all walked these halls and used the play rooms on the highest floors for all kinds of debauchery and sin. It wasn't up to us to judge or shame them for having desires. Our job was to fulfil their fantasies, so long as they were legal, safe and consensual.

My mind drifted back to my meeting Serrano, and a shiver rushed through me at the thought of him being the one asking for me. But almost immediately, I disregarded the notion that he might want to have s*x with one of his escorts. Mixing business and pleasure never ended well for anyone.

At exactly two forty-five, Paolo turned me in my chair. I fluttered my lashes dramatically at my reflection, pleased that they always managed to surprise me despite the number of times I'd sat in this chair.

I was assisted into the burgundy dress, my hair pinned away from my face to reveal the daring, cowl neckline of the dress. The slit on the side was just the right side of flirty, and the make-up brought out my eyes and the shape of my lips the way I liked.

I looked amazing.

The whole team knew it.

I knew it. And I had no doubt that my potential client would think the same thing too.

With ten minutes remaining on the clock, I rushed down to the ground floor, and entered the small office where I'd be meeting my client. Had I not been in such a hurry, I might have noticed that the guards had been swapped out, and that the entire floor was vacant except for me and them.

I looked around the room, noting the camera in the corner was on, and gave a thumbs up to let them know I was ready. I brushed down the front of the dress nervously, and checked to make sure my hair was still neatly tucked into the chignon while I waited.

Which I didn't have to do for long…

I heard footsteps approaching the door, confident and sure. I took two deep breaths, releasing the last slowly just as the knob is turned and the door is opened.

Six feet and five inches of power and dominance walked into the room. The broad, muscular build and glorious tan skin hidden under the tailored cut of an expensive, charcoal suit. A predatory gait that screamed strength and danger brought him closer to me. I watched, transfixed, as he took a seat in the chair closest to me.

I fought back the smile that threatened to spread across my face, and focused on the matter at hand… Which wasn't the easiest thing to do because I couldn't breathe and my heart seemed to have stopped beating entirely.

And when he finally spoke…

"Good afternoon, Ms. Conteh."

… I nearly swooned.

"Mr. Serrano," I greeted, my voice surprisingly steady.

"I'm pleased to see you again." This is said with a slight smirk teasing at the corner of his lips, his head tilting casually to the side. I responded with the truth, hands hanging loosely at my sides, gaze locked on his.

"I'm pleased to see you as well."