La Donna Dolce

Chapter One

JC Chasez sat heavily on the edge of the bed, barely able to keep his eyes open. The sun was slowly rising over the high-rises of steel and glass that made up the Manhattan skyline, but he was unimpressed. Dragging himself up again, he walked over to the curtains and with a sharp yank, closed the blinds until there was total, blissful darkness.

He hated red eye flights, but that night had been especially trying. He had been stuck on the plane next to a fan who had insisted on pelting him with questions throughout the entire seven-hour flight from Los Angeles to New York City. Normally, JC wasn’t accommodating, but the young woman had gorgeous tits and a mouth that he could imagine doing very kinky things to, so he had been friendly.

Four hours in, when she mentioned her husband and his eyes wrenched from her breasts long enough to notice the ring on her finger, JC realized, to his horror, that he was four hours into a conversation with someone he couldn’t escape from. He was stuck answering questions about his past with no hope of a happy ending.

Admittedly, it was first class. But he could definitely think of better situations to be in.

Walking back toward the bed, JC paused to pick up the plastic bag he had thrown on the hotel room desk earlier. Pulling out a package to a disposable, pay-as-you-go cell phone, he smiled to himself. Trips to New York usually meant a whirlwind of publicity junkets and other aspects of business that he hated, and he used to dread the circus. It wasn’t until a quiet conversation with a close friend had introduced him to a discreet telephone number that he started to appreciate an aspect of travel he hadn’t experienced before.

That had been three years earlier. Now, after plugging in the cell phone, he dug into his wallet for the small platinum card that held phone and membership identification numbers. He tossed it on the desk next to the phone and went to take a shower.

~ * ~

“Do you really have to go?”

“You know I do, love.”

“When will I see you again?”

Kit gave a sweet, noncommittal smile as she smoothed down the front of her trousers. The sun had risen over the Manhattan skyline and she was running late. She didn’t have time for the pillow talk that this particular conquest enjoyed so much, but he was a decent lover and an excellent tipper so she made nice as much as she could when in the back of her mind she knew she was going to get an earful about her tardiness.

“You take care of yourself, darling. You know I hate it when I see you so tense,” she said, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek before moving to get her purse.

“Bye,” she heard him say as she sailed out of the door.

Kit sighed as she waited for the elevator, taking the opportunity to fix her hair. The client she had been with liked her hair to be wild and free-flowing, but she knew better than to walk through the lobby of a five-star New York hotel with bed head. The trick to being an escort in New York was to fit in so well you didn’t stand out at all. At La Donna Dolce, where they only serviced clients with bank accounts of over seven figures, that meant that she needed to fit into a society that publically snubbed yet privately condoned her profession.

Which meant that walking around with bed head was out of the question.

She had fixed the long, dark coffee-colored locks into a prim French twist by the time the elevator arrived. She stepped in, sliding on a pair of Dolce sunglasses in order to avoid eye contact. Wearing a designer pant suit and conservative jewelry, she looked like a visiting businesswoman – a ruse that she was able to maintain due to her British heritage. So it was with confidence that she stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby, her Christian Louboutin heels clicking softly on the marble floor.

No one had the slightest clue, and that was how she liked it.

Her phone started ringing as she hit the reception area and she paused to dig it from her clutch, making a mental note to get a manicure later that day. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” came an annoyed voice.

“I’m on my way now. I’m sorry, I got held up.”

“Honestly, Kit, are you physically incapable of showing up anywhere on time?”

“That hardly seems fair. Listen, I’ll grab a cab and be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ve been waiting for ten minutes! They’re going to give our table away.”

“Who’s the maitre’d working this morning?”

“I…why does that matter?”

“Listen, if it’s Robert, tell him I’m on my way and if he could just hold the table. If it’s Danica, tell her I have a divine Chanel lipstick with her name on it if she could hold our table. If it’s anyone else and they won’t hold it, then we’ll find a different restaurant and brunch will be on me.”

“Kit…”

“I’ve got to go, darling, or I won’t make it in ten minutes. See you soon,” Kit said before hanging up and returning her phone to her clutch.

Feeling a pair of eyes on her, she turned toward the concierge desk where a tall, lean, handsome man with gorgeous cheekbones was watching her. There was a hint of a smirk playing on his full lips and while she considered him incredibly attractive, there was an arrogance to the way he stared that she didn’t like. Giving the coolest look she could muster, she turned and walked out of the hotel.

~ * ~

JC had come down to the lobby after his shower to retrieve his schedule from the concierge desk. As the manager went to get it, he heard the tell-tale sound of expensive heels and he turned to see a stunning brunette walking out of the elevator. He watched as she answered her phone and her husky British accent shot straight to his groin. When she was done, she caught him watching her. The look she sent him got him hard instantly.

He hadn’t been on the receiving end of a disdainful look from a woman in decades. It had made everything so easy and while he definitely took advantage of the truly astounding amount of sex he was offered, what he really loved was the chase. The alpha male within him loved the idea of really working for his conquest. It made the inevitable surrender so much sweeter.

“Here you go, sir,” the concierge said, and JC’s attention reluctantly turned back to work.

When he was back in his room, he picked up the disposable phone and dialed the number on his membership card.

“Hello, Mr. Scott. Welcome back to New York,” came the professional, somewhat bored voice of his personal La Donna Dolce contact.

“Thank you. It’s nice to be back,” he replied with a smile.

“How can we service you today?”

“I’m looking for something specific for tonight. Businesswoman, frosty disposition to start, passionate, dark hair, and if you have anyone who can do a passable British accent, that would definitely be appreciated,” he said, feeling himself getting hard again just at the idea of the mysterious woman who had snubbed him in the lobby.

“We can accommodate that. Shall we text this number with the price?”

“That should be fine.”

“What time would you like her?”

“Ten o’clock. Four Seasons.”

“Absolutely. Will there be anything else today, Mr. Scott?”

“No, thank you.”

“Have a good day.”

JC hung up and collapsed on his bed. He had checked his itinerary in the elevator and he had an hour to kill before he had to be anywhere. Closing his eyes, he imagined the woman from the lobby and ran his hand down his body, flicking his jeans open to release his straining erection.

Running his hand up his shaft, he imagined those full lips around his cock and groaned. Even though she had been wearing sunglasses, he imagined her with bright green eyes that looked up at him as she sucked. Her gaze was a mixture of power and surrender and he groaned at the thought, his hand moving faster as his hips bucked. It had been a long time since someone had gotten him this worked up and even though he would be enjoying an imitation of the real thing that night, he left his imagination to the task of conjuring what the real thing would feel like.

“Fuck…” he groaned as the thought of bending his fantasy woman over the bed and taking her roughly from behind had him cumming hard. Breathing heavily, he lay still for a moment, letting his mind wander to how incredibly sexy she looked in the tailored business suit and heels before pushing himself off the bed to clean up.

~ * ~

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” Kit said as she rushed into the restaurant, receiving a death stare from her best friend, Ana, in the process.

“What’s the excuse this time, hmm?” Ana asked, crossing her arms.

“I honestly got held up at work. You know how these personal assistant gigs work, Ana, they want what they want when they want it.”

“Well, I’ll forgive you because your mairtre’d friend Robert is working and he was able to seat us without you.”

“Us? I thought it was just going to be the two of us today?” Kit asked, giving Robert an ice-melting smile and a wink as Ana all but dragged her toward the table. Robert blushed and gave a small nod.

“Well, since you are always so busy, I figured I’d just ambush you. Brian’s here.”

Kit blinked, “Brian? I thought you were dating somebody named Noah?”

Ana rolled her eyes, “Noah and I broke up months ago, Kit. Don’t you listen to your voicemails?”

Truth be told, Kit could rarely keep up with her best friend’s love life, so even if she had paid attention to the numerous voicemails Ana left her on a regular basis, she probably still wouldn’t be as caught up with things as Ana expected her to be. While she loved her best friend to death, Ana was the type of woman who adored being adored, and therefore craved the spotlight all the time – in friendship as well as romantic relationships.

“Kit, this is Brian,” Ana said once they reached the table, and Kit smiled politely at the good-looking, well-dressed man who stood to shake her hand.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Kit said. “Ana’s spoken very highly of you.”

“As she has of you,” he replied, eyes wandering Kit’s body for a moment before adding, “Though, if I’d known this was a formal brunch, I would have worn a tie.”

“Kit is the personal assistant to some executive fashion person. Incredibly demanding and very particular about her wardrobe,” Ana explained.

“I can imagine, considering the business,” Brian said as they all sat. “I’m a hedge fund manager. Some of our clients are in the fashion industry. Who do you work for?”

“Can’t really say. Confidentiality, and all that,” Kit replied.

He arched an eyebrow, “Confidentiality in the fashion industry?”

“Well, you know how all those artistic types are – they’d hate anyone knowing anything about what’s coming off the runways this season.”

Ana quickly swooped in to steer the conversation back to herself, which was one of the things Kit loved about her friend. When moments occurred when she was about to dive into a situation she was not equipped to handle – like talking in depth about a job she didn’t actually have – Ana would dominate the conversation. While infuriating when the two were talking alone, it was very useful when in company.

Halfway through a preternaturally boring anecdote about Ana’s ironically high-maintenance boss, Kit heard her phone ring. That particular ringtone belonged to only one place, so she quickly excused herself and walked to a quiet corner near the back.

“Hello?”

“Hi Marlowe, it’s Jessica,” came the voice of La Donna Dolce’s scheduler.

“Hi,” Kit replied.

“We have a client for you tonight. Very particular. Wants a dark-haired British businesswoman with a cool disposition who turns very passionate. I couldn’t think of anyone better,” Jessica said.

“That is very particular. Alright. When and where?”

“Ten o’clock. Four Seasons.”

“Really? I was just there this morning.”

“Were you? Oh yes, I guess you were. Well, either someone is clairvoyant or saw you and made you their fantasy for the evening. Either way, are you in?”

“Yes, I am, though irony abounds.”

“Too high-level for me, Marlowe. I just push paper.”

Kit smiled slightly. The no-nonsense scheduler was a lovely girl, but she was never the brightest tool in the shed. The important thing was that she was discreet and did her job efficiently. The position didn’t require a deep knowledge of clever rhetorical devices.

“Ten at the Four Seasons. I’ll be there.”

“Good. Shall I tell him your usual rate?”

“Throw in a little extra for the accent.”

Jessica laughed.

“Now that I can understand as irony.”

Kit smiled slightly.

“Thanks, Jess.”

“Bye.”

Hanging up, Kit looked over her shoulder to see Ana and her boyfriend watching her from afar. Ana did not look pleased. Kit sighed. Sometimes she wondered whether her relationship with her friend was too much effort to maintain. As she headed back toward the table, she motioned to the waiter for another mimosa. She would get through this brunch even if she had to be drunk to do it.