January (Calendar Girl #1) Anthology Anthology (156 page)

I set my hands on my hips and cocked one out to the side. “That explained nothing about why I am here.”

Warren cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his chin stubble. He seemed incredibly uncomfortable with continuing this conversation.

“You’re to be Father’s whore,” the Senator confirmed blatantly. Not even a hint of tact in his tone.

My head slammed back and I instantly crossed my arms over my chest. “Excuse me? I do not copulate with clients unless I
want
to. Emphasis on the want.”

“No, no, no, my dear. I don’t want that…” Warren sounded as uncomfortable as I felt and looked to Aaron for what I could only assume was assistance in explaining. Aaron rolled his eyes and stood.

“Mia, these men have a woman on their arm. Usually they are gold-digging whores. Meant only to look pretty, take as much money as they can, and fuck the men whenever and wherever.”

“Jesus, son. Must you be so crude?” Warren stood and came over to me. His eyes were filled with something akin to shame. “Mia, I will not treat you badly, but I do need to stay on the good side of these men in order to move forward on my building plans and mission for the new program. All of them have very young, beautiful women on their arms. It’s a disgusting status type of thing, if you will. I don’t care for it, but I will play whatever game is necessary to advance my agenda . In order to do that, I need the backing of several very prominent men in business and government. Without it, they could crush the program and all plans are shot.”

“Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“That, money, and time. More than I’d care to admit,” he confirmed.

Again, Aaron shook his head. “Father is a modern day vigilante. He’s building the headquarters to offer medical services to third-world countries. In order to do that, he needs to have trade opened up to countries that offer specific vaccinations for a fraction of the cost. In others, he needs access to government as well as immunity to have his people travel to these locales. It will take legislative acts of governments to approve the organization coming in and out of the US, sending doctors, medical professionals, etc. much like a Red Cross, Lions International, and Doctors Without Borders.”

“You want to help save people in third-world countries? I don’t see how this is a problem. Shouldn’t government officials be jumping at the chance to help, especially if it’s not at the taxpayer’s expense?”

Warren cupped my cheeks looking deeply into my eyes. His brown orbs were warm and kind. “Some are, my sweet. Some are. But, there is a lot of red tape. More than you can possibly imagine.” He dropped his hands and stepped back to lean against his desk. “In order to have that tape cut, I need to get a few powerful fellas on board. There are also others that want special favors from my family that we cannot accommodate.” He turned his gaze to Aaron. Aaron inhaled and tipped his head down. Warren wouldn’t dare put his son’s political stance in jeopardy with his plan. Right then, I knew Warren Shipley was a good guy. The jury was still out on his son.

I shrugged. “So where do I come in?”

That’s when Aaron came over to me and cupped the back of my neck. His hand was warm and held just the right amount of pressure when he squeezed. “At the events and gatherings. Look incredibly gorgeous, smile, hug on Father as if you’re his young plaything, and your job is done.” I wished I had one of those big red buttons that said, “That was easy” for him to press.

“And what about you?” I licked my lips. Again, he watched with an intensity I rather liked. If his father hadn’t been there, I was certain I’d be pressed up against the nearest wall with his lips all over mine.

He made a humming noise deep in his throat. One I could feel all the way down to my toes. He leaned close to my face, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek as he whispered into my ear. “Me. Well, I get to chase my father’s hot young plaything in private.” His eyebrows quirked before he stepped back and winked.

I held out my hands then slapped them against my thighs. “When do we start?”

***

A few days later had me at one of Mr. Shipley’s fundraisers, looking around like the wild gazelle caught in the crosshairs of a hunter. With Wes I had him to anchor me to the environment, make me feel as though I fit in. Not this time. Mentally, I gave myself a hefty dose of self-confidence, setting my goals straight and readying for battle. Scanning the room reminded me of being back in Malibu with Wes at one of his stuffy events, except a far higher level of class. I wasn’t wearing sparkly sequins. No, I wore a dress designed by Dolce & Gabanna as a personal favor to Mr. Shipley. One that was entirely cut out from nape, to ass, but covered everything in front. Warren blushed and said nothing about the closet full of designer threads. I had taken pictures of the dresses and gowns and sent them to Hector, my gay BFF back in Chicago. His text message went something like, “
Chica
, you own the Universe. How do I get a ticket to Heaven?”

I looked around the room and honestly, I was shocked by the number of men over fifty dressed in fancy suits with women young enough to be their daughters—possibly even their granddaughters—on their arm. Stealthily, I pulled out my phone and took a snapshot of the giant room, patrons included. We were at a local fundraiser for one of Warren’s “friends”. I use the term lightly because as Warren admitted, very few folks in the One Percent were actually friends with one another. That friendship only extended as far as the next business deal. If the deal didn’t bring them closer to a goal, or make them a bucketload of cash, that relationship no longer had any value. No longer good pals. Honestly, it sickened me, but I was being paid to be here. Hypocrisy was something I was working on.

To: Skank-a-lot-a-puss

From: Mia Saunders

Caption this?

From: Skank-a-lot-a-puss

To: Mia Saunders

Easy! It’s bring your daughter to work day on Capitol Hill!

I almost lost it. The laugher bubbled up so fast, I ended up choking on the champagne I was sipping forcing me to wobble on my stilettos. God, I loved that woman.

“Careful there,” an older gentleman clasped me around the bicep and held me up. “That’s the good stuff you’re choking on. I guess there are worse ways to go than to choke to death on five hundred dollar champagne.” He chuckled as my eyes watered. I ended up spraying the liquid still in my mouth across the plant in front of me. I hacked and coughed, trying to get my bearings. A waiter walked by at that moment with glasses of water. The grey-haired old man stole one and handed it to me. I slugged it back gratefully, clearing out the champagne that had gone down the wrong pipe.

“I’m so sorry.” I cleared my throat and put my lip out, giving my best pout.

The man, who must have been at least sixty-five or seventy, shook his head and petted my cheek like I was a favored pet. “No worries, little girl. Who’s your Daddy?” One minute he was grandfatherly old guy and the next, a true predator.

Without realizing it, my eyebrows narrowed. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Don’t be dense. Who takes care of you?” He licked his dry, cracked lips. The old man breathed with his mouth open and the stench of cigars and liquor wafted over me. I cringed, gulping back the need to vomit.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. “I believe you have found something that belongs to me.” Warren Shipley’s face twisted into a scowl, his eyes were hard as stones as he took in the man’s hand holding onto my arm.

“Warren, I didn’t know you’d finally taken a lamb.” The man grinned, and his eyes traced wantonly over my curves. “And what a perfect little pet. Do you share her?” His tone was smarmy. Holding down that vomit was getting harder by the second.

Warren laughed out loud. A full-bellied laugh that could be heard far and wide. “’Fraid not, old friend. Bit selfish in my old age, Arthur.”

Arthur let go of my bicep. Instinctively, I rubbed at the spot. Warren clocked the move and his jaw tightened. He came over and put his hand lightly around my waist. “This is Mia, under my care. Mia, Arthur Broughton.” Warren squeezed my waist, and I held out my hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Broughton.” I cuddled up to Warren for good measure. He held me closer, his body a pillar of strength, firm and standing tall. A strength that belied his years.

Warren leaned down and kissed my temple. “Mia, you look parched. Go on ahead and get a drink. I’ll be there in a moment.” I nodded and he tapped my ass lightly. You couldn’t really say it was in a good-game-type way like Mason, my old client and friend did with his major league baseball buddies, or me, for that matter. It was more coddling. At least he didn’t grope like some of these men did.

I made my way through the veritable buffet of old dudes with tight, pretty, young female bodies clinging to their arms. I could almost imagine the tiny manacles holding the women close, making sure they were never far from the men’s wallets. Gross.

The bartender offered me a new glass of champagne. I pounded it, set the glass down, and asked for another.

“Easy tiger, you don’t want to be falling down drunk and ruin Father’s image,” Aaron said as he settled onto the stool next to mine.

I shook my head and pursed my lips. “I don’t get what I’m here for.”

“You’re already doing it. Looking good, showing these old timers that Father is one of them. See how he’s talking animatedly with Arthur Broughton?”

I cringed at the name of the guy who had gripped my arm. “Yeah.”

Aaron nodded toward the duo. “He owns the ports Father wants to take the meds through. He has the port authority in each country he serves in his back pocket. Father needs that guy in order to park his ships.”

Exhaling, I pushed out my chest and adjusted my shoulders. “But why? What he’s doing is good, kind, and humanitarian.”

Aaron chuckled. “It is, but it doesn’t make any money, and it’s dangerous to take Americans into these countries and set up medical facilities. And I use the term ‘facility’ lightly. They’re more of a bunker-tent-type situation. It’s only one step. That’s
if
he gets Arthur to agree to allow the ships to come in and out, and lose that revenue in trade plus manpower for the cause. Not an easy feat. He also has to get the freighter company, the doctors, missionaries, armed forces for protection, et cetera. There’s a lot more at stake than you think.”

Wow. Warren really was a modern day superhero. Taking medicine to third world countries, taking dangerous risks for the good of mankind. It’s extremely powerful, and for once, I felt really good about being with this client.

“So, how can I help?”

Aaron lifted a hand and petted my cheek with his thumb. “You can relax. Being here, you’re making him one of the big boys with his pretty toy.” I’m certain my eyes blazed white-hot fire when he said that because Aaron laughed and quickly responded. “Not that we think you’re a toy. Jeez. Touchy one.”

I rolled my eyes and huffed. “Sorry. Maybe I am a little off my game. This is different than what I’m used to.”

He leaned a bit closer, enough that I could smell the sweet notes of apples and expensive leather from his cologne. “And what are you used to?” His tone was alluring and spoke directly to the woman in me.

Tipping a bare shoulder and looking over it, I batted my eyelashes. “It’s different for everyone.”

“Is that right? And if I wanted to test the waters of
different
while you’re here…would that be something you are interested in? With me, not my father.”

I pinched my lips and inhaled audibly. Tipping my head, I looked directly into his chocolate eyes. This man was not shy. Desire, lust, want, and greed softly traced every inch of my skin at the way he looked at me. Shivers of excitement rippled from my chest to rest heavily between my legs. He moved his hand to my knee, making slow circles over the bare skin. That excitement I’d felt mere seconds ago, was turning into a swirling pot of nervous energy. Anticipation was a fun game the debonair Aaron Shipley seemed to enjoy playing. He was definitely stellar at the art of seduction. I was seduced…big time.

Before I got completely lost and leaned forward and took a bite out of what I now had a burning need to sink my teeth into, Warren came back. A huge smile lit his slightly wrinkled face.

He clapped his hands. “Champagne, good man. We have reason to celebrate!” He announced. The bartender handed him a glass of the bubbly.

“Is that so, Father? Do tell. The anticipation“—his eyes flicked to mine, a heated look still burning bright—“is positively stifling.”

Warren spent the next half hour breaking down the agreement he’d come to with Arthur Broughton about the ports. Turned out that Arthur needed a solid charitable write-off and the positive press for his company. He’d been dealing with some bad media about his trades with Asia. News that he would be offering his ports to import medical necessities, supplies, and professionals to countries in dire need of Western medicine was a good business decision and one he couldn’t afford to pass up.

“Thank you, Mia. You’re already helping me get where I need to be with the program.”

I turned my head and frowned. “How do you figure? I didn’t do anything.”

“On the contrary. Arthur had been avoiding me because he thought I had an issue with another business deal he was making with a competitor of Shipley, Inc., which is completely apocryphal.” Aaron nodded. I pretended I knew what apocryphal meant, but gathered it likely had to do with something being false or untrue. “You gave me a perfect road to open conversation with him. We spoke of you momentarily then moved right into business matters. Worked like a charm.” He smiled wide and drank the rest of his champagne.

There was really nothing more I could say. This entire scenario was outside my comfort zone. Rolling with the punches would be my only option. I held up my glass in a mock cheers. “Glad I could help then.” I laughed and finished off my drink before we took our leave.