The Frenchman's Bride

by Imani King

  Exhaling, I unsuccessfully tried to release the stress. The anticipation was clawing in my head, like an untamed beast. It was ten minutes later, as I was considering stepping out and punching something, that my receptionist finally pinged over my intercom.

  “Blaine, Harry’s here for you.”

  “Splendid,” I replied coolly. “Let him in.”

  “Right away, Mister Winguard.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. A few moments later, Ivy popped open the door, her fingers clasped delicately around the handle. A rough, older gentleman in a jacket and matching wide-rimmed hat stepped into the room. Without skipping a moment, he removed his hat and handed it to her.

  “Take care of this, would ya, darling’?”

  My receptionist quickly turned to me; I shrugged. Veiling her irritation, she took his hat and politely closed the door. With our privacy intact, he immediately turned to me, stiffly strolling across my office with professional restraint.

  “Harry, welcome back,” I shook his hand.

  “Pleasure.”

  “Tell me,” I asked, offering him a seat, “how are things progressing? You seem to think something worth my attention has happened.” As he made himself comfortable, I took a seat across from him, folding my fingers together on my executive desk.

  My private investigator shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, I’ve got an update – but you’re not gonna like it.”

  An eyebrow arched. “Is that so?”

  Harry reached into his jacket’s inner pocket to produce a small, worn black notebook. Licking his fingers, he flipped through the pages, filled with the indecipherable smudges of his illegible handwriting. He briefly reviewed a page or two before answering, and I held my smile with increasing aggravation.

  “Yeah…little canary of yours is going a bit off-course, if you know what I mean.”

  “Let us pretend that I don’t,” I replied, holding back my exasperation.

  “Well, turns out that the target–”

  “I told you to not call her that,” I cut in.

  He soured briefly, not missing a beat. “–That the mark turned down that fancy internship you arranged. It’s funny, I would have thought that she’d dive for something like that. She even went in and did the interview, from what I can tell. Walked right on out after an hour, done.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Oh, Sierra…the strings I pulled to give you that opportunity. Didn’t you want it? Why just toss it away like that?

  “There’s, uh, something else you might want to see,” Harry offered, replacing the notebook and retrieving a folded sheet of paper from the same pocket. The very sight of the slightly crumpled sheet suddenly filled me with an instant, inexplicable burst of dread.

  My grim face only hardened further. “I’m not going to enjoy this either, am I?”

  Harry chuckled. “No, not…exactly.”

  The private eye unfolded the sheet, handing it to me. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled my frustration, glanced down at the page, and felt my heart practically stop in its tracks. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – believe what was in my hands.

  “Harold, what precisely am I looking at here?”

  “It’s, uh, a print-out. From one of those weird sites with the escorts…no, that’s not right, it’s the…what’s the term? Sugar Babies? Think that’s it, yeah…”

  In my confusion, I looked up at him again.

  Harry was suddenly uncomfortable, clearly sensing my conflict. “You know, Sugar Babies. It’s a bit of a mutual benefit kind of arrangement. You get these lonely gentlemen with money burning in their accounts who have an itch that needs scratching. The girls on those sites like being spoiled, and they typically want some spending money. Sometimes, it’s as simple as companionship, maybe some arm-candy for making appearances. Other times, sex comes into the picture. At that point, it becomes this big negotiation thing…”

  “I’m familiar with the concept,” I bluntly replied.

  Harry grew quiet as my eyes fell back to the page, swarming across what was clearly a printed copy of a profile for an upscale dating website. Clear as day, the photograph in the top-left corner was Sierra Simmons, lying across bedding in lingerie, her body curled up and a sexy smile on her face. She was clearly doing her best to put on her sultriest look, with her lip curled up in an inviting smirk. I could barely stand to look directly at her.

  I had never needed to join a dating site, but the rest of the page contained what I imagined was standard fare. There were a few small paragraphs where she vaguely described herself, a brief question-and-answer section, and a table of basic questions (height, body type, eye color, et cetera) with simple answers. Overall, her profile looked compelling, and the picture she had taken clearly drew attention.

  My lips sputtered one single thought: “…Why?”

  “Yeah, beats me,” the investigator shrugged. “Maybe she decided that she didn’t care so much about the career right now. You know how young people are with money – maybe she just wanted to move out of her mom’s place! You know, swanky new condo, brand new car, sixty pairs of shoes… Some of these girls, they make five, ten, fifteen grand a month.”

  The paper was shaking in my hand. My emotions swung violently from disappointment to anger and back in a rapid cycle. Surely she wouldn’t debase herself this way, I thought to myself. This HAS to be some sort of mistake.

  “How do I stop this madness?” I asked him, glancing up from the page for the first time. There was no solace I would find on that sheet of paper, no matter how deeply I stared at it.

  “Yeah, that’s…not really how this works.”

  He was right, of course. Despite being the youngest billionaire on the Fortune 500, I was well aware that money and resources were second fiddle to free will. I couldn’t wave my hand and make this go away, and even if I did… I knew Sierra. A little temperamental at times, she was still a proud woman, full of promise and opportunity. Nothing had ever foreshadowed that she would stoop to this level… It didn’t make any sense.

  “You do realize that she seems to know what she’s doing,” Harry explained quietly. “I mean, putting herself out there like this? Someone’s gonna snap her up in a heartbeat. Only a matter of time, really. One of your Wall Street buddies with their thick pocketbooks...”

  A strong, crushing feeling swelled in my chest. Meanwhile, my fingers began clenching around the sheet, gripping it tighter and tighter. The distinctive sound of ripping paper met my ears, and the investigator grew visibly cautious.

  “Listen, you, uh, okay?”

  I didn’t realize how hard I was gritting my teeth until I tried to speak. After a moment of composure, I asked in short, angry bursts: “How…do I…stop…this?”

  “What’s done is done,” Harry replied, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t still protect her.”

  “…Enlighten me.”

  “Well…it would require you being a little more…hands-on, so to speak,” he replied carefully. “It’s as simple as you joining the site yourself. Whisk her off the market. That way, she doesn’t get hurt doing whatever she’s trying to do, and you get to keep on keepin’ on…”

  I deliberated on this briefly. “Yes, that thought had already started occurring to me…”

  “Right, but, I did some digging into this place. It’s a site called Discreet Companions. They’re pretty isolationist, so to speak, although you aren’t going to have any trouble getting in. Problem is, there’s no exclusivity clause…so, even if you were to jump on this, there’s nothing stopping her from entertaining another man in the meantime…you know, doubling up.”

  My plan unfolded in front of me in an instant. “…Unless I offer her a deal she can’t turn down.”

  Harry’s interest was piqued. “What do you have in mind?”

  “You said it yourself,” I replied, leaning back into my chair. This was a hell of an obstacle, but not insurmountable. With renewed confidence, I was left calm, collected,
and ready to make my move. “It’s all about the money, right? So, I’ll appeal to that on one condition: exclusivity. No sane woman willing to drop to this level would turn it down.”

  “So, what are you gonna do?”

  I glanced down at the shredded remnants of the page, scattered on my desk. “I think it’s time that I made an account with these people…who were they? Discreet Companions, was it?”

  “Yeah, I thought you might say something like that,” Harry grinned. “I’ve taken the, uh, liberty of setting some things up for you already, after spending an hour reading other profiles. Everything’s private, of course. All you have to do is change whatever you want, flip the switch, and send her a message.”

  A warm smile crossed my lips as I regarded the private investigator. “You’ve outdone yourself, Harold.”

  Harry laughed, pulling out his smartphone. “You’re damn right I have. Here, I’m gonna email you the login details now…”

  “Good, you do that,” I replied, my mind already occupied with this change of events and my next move. All the things I’ve done for you, Sierra, I thought quietly to myself. If this is what you want, then I’ll play your little game...

  4

  Sierra

  * * *

  “Already?” I asked myself, gazing at my screen over a cup of coffee. My eyebrow rose as I clicked on the messages tab. Being completely new to the website, I hadn’t expected to receive any attention for at least a few more days, maybe a week.

  Sure enough, there was a new message in my Discreet Companions mailbox – and this one didn’t look like the first few. Just opening an account had given me a few automatic messages from the system, and after that I’d been let down by a few replies that were very clearly spam.

  My breath caught in my lungs.

  Blaine Winguard’s photo was a professional headshot that featured him confidently smirking with sly, seductive lips. Short, thick bangs fell in sandy tufts, framing his tanned, handsome face. His blue eyes brimmed with mischief, and just a slight hint of pearly-white teeth shone between the upward tilt of his lips. His shoulders looked broad, powerful; his suit was clearly tailored to show off what was undoubtedly an incredible physique.

  I stared into those wicked, mischievous eyes. While I struggled to comprehend what I was seeing, I turned to his message, which read:

  Greetings Sierra.

  I find myself lonely and in need of company, and I wondered if you’d fit the bill. Fortunately for you, I’m selfish, and I’m willing to pay you very well for your exclusive companionship – something to the tune of $200,000 for a month of your time.

  Let me know if you’re interested.

  Sincerely, Blaine Winguard

  I reread the message a couple of times, gazing at his photo again in a mounting bubble of emotion. The emotions all threatened to bubble over while I comprehended just what this all really meant.

  “Blaine Winguard,” I repeated aloud to myself. There’s no way this is true. No way at all.

  My suspicious gaze drifted to the profile picture again. Beneath it, next to the username Billionheir was a tiny, green arrow in a stylized circle.

  Verified. This was actually Blaine Winguard.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered to myself.

  I closed my laptop and walked upstairs to the bathroom. Dousing my face in water, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. “Blaine Winguard,” I repeated again. “No big deal, right?”

  The face gazing back at me wasn’t convinced.

  “Look,” I told myself, “you’re here to do a job. That’s it. It just so happens that the biggest bachelor around wants your company. He didn’t say anything about sex, so. That’s cool.”

  In the back of my head, I’d almost hoped that he had. Most of the gossip that hit the tabloids from his string of partners came down to unabashed compliments on his prowess in bed. Anyone who followed his exploits knew his sexual reputation – and that included how gifted he was reported to be.

  I felt a squirming burst of anticipation as I readied myself to wander back downstairs and fire off a reply.

  “Yeah,” I reminded myself unsteadily. “No big deal… This is only going to be the story of the year…”

  A few days later – and a few messages – later in the week, Blaine and I were sitting across each other at a coffee shop. I had insisted on meeting in a public place, and after a little prodding, the billionaire had gone along with it. It was insane to think that I was seeing Blaine Winguard, face to face. He looked so stunning, with his chiseled face and broad shoulders. I could scarcely believe that this was actually happening.

  “I must say, it’s delightful to make your acquaintance, Sierra,” he murmured with a handsome smile.

  I stirred from my contemplation – how long have I not been paying attention? I’d been drifting in and out of conversation with him, completely entranced but equally unable to comprehend this. I smiled weakly and glanced around at the patrons, who were barely paying us any attention.

  “No, really. It is. I’m happy to be able to see you.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, suddenly afraid that this was a dream – and that he was going to suddenly disappear on me. Men like him don’t pay attention to girls like me.

  “It is,” he answered, leaning forward. He was wearing a pair of large sunglasses, but still dressed in a three-piece suit. I felt so shy and insignificant near him, especially through all of our small talk.

  I tensely drank from my coffee – we’d been here for thirty, maybe forty minutes, and I was still on edge. He’d barely been able to take his eyes off of me, only compounding my complete lack of confidence. Still, he was commanding my attention with every little movement now…

  “And you look positively ravishing,” he whispered to me in a hushed voice. “But I have to admit that I’m slightly uncomfortable.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked, caught onto his every word.

  “I agreed to come here because I didn’t want to scare you off…but this is too open for me. It’s only a matter of time before I’m recognized. Why don’t we get out of here…somewhere a little less conspicuous? The last thing I need is for the papers to find me again…”

  Enraptured by his power, I nodded thoughtlessly.

  “I’m glad you understand,” he replied. “That means a lot to me. People don’t understand me, you know. They see me in the tabloids, but they don’t get the bigger picture…you, I don’t think I have that problem with.”

  I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I didn’t care. He was so gorgeous, and he was here – with me.

  With a wickedly sly grin, Blaine rose from his seat. I followed suit, stepping after him as we left the coffee shop and walked around the building. Trying to hide his face, he led me to his limousine, parked quietly in the alley.

  “Here we go,” he whispered, helping me into the back. As I got comfortable, he gave a few commands to the driver through a window, and then a privacy shield slowly rose into place.

  “Now then…nobody will find us in here. I don’t want you uncomfortable, but you must understand that I don’t particularly enjoy being on the streets…”

  I nodded. “I understand.”

  “Good… Now… Lets discuss this arrangement.”

  His fingers drifted to my hair, running along my hairline. Instead of bristling at his touch, I was surprised to sense that my body was comforted now…reacting positively to his presence. I could have stopped him now. I could have pulled away and told him everything. Some part of me didn’t want to, and not just because of the investigation.

  When his lips met mine, I felt a powerful, intoxicating rush of strength, flooding my synapses. His lips were soft yet firm, his breath hot yet soothing. He peeled his mouth back for a moment, quietly and reassuringly gazing into my eyes for any signs of reluctance…satisfied, he dove back in, his lips crushing mine, hands clenching onto my shoulders.

  Oh god, I thought to myself. This is really happening.


  Blaine kissed again, more furiously now, his hands stroking down my shoulders to my upper arms. Holding them tightly, his tongue slipped in, bracing the tip against mine before I met his passion with my own.

  We kissed zealously like this for some time, and before I knew it, I was on my knees in front of him, unbuckling his slacks. It almost felt as if a surreal glow of light had fallen over us. Everything seemed distant, as if I were simply watching the action.

  His hands were gently resting on my shoulders as I withdrew his mighty weapon, stroking it and gazing up into his eyes. This couldn’t be real. There was no way that I was wielding Blaine Winguard’s thick cock, within an hour of meeting him, stroking him off in the backseat of his limo…and definitely no way that my lips were wrapped around it now, my lips thrusting up and down the saltiness of his rock-hard erection.

  He stretched his feet further apart, his hands woven into my hair as I bobbed up and down on his thick, juicy cock. As he groaned out his satisfaction, I pulled the member free from my mouth, sliding my tongue up and down the raging hard-on before sucking it back between my lips.

  “That’s phenomenal,” Blaine murmured. “You’re a natural.”

  But he pulled my face free, tugging me up by my hair. Pulled from my position on my knees, he threw me against the opposite seat, bending me down.

  His fingers dove beneath my dress, sliding into my panties. “Oh, you’re soaking wet,” he whispered. “Should I do something about that?”

  I nodded, intoxicated with lust.

  What am I doing? I need to get out of here!

  But he had pulled my panties down, and his face dove into my hips, bent over and ready for him. His tongue lapped away hungrily at my wet, dripping pussy, licking up my fluids before sliding between the moist lips.

  “Oh, you taste fantastic,” I heard him murmur.

  The feeling was incredible. For some reason, just the fact that I was riding the tongue of one of the richest, most powerful men around was filling me with mind-bending intoxication. I reached back behind myself, clutching his hair and pulling his mouth harder against my sex. With my other hand steadying myself against the wall, I felt him punish my pussy with that hot, wet tongue, lapping at my folds with both his hands grasping my bare, luscious ass…