He recognized a congressman in the corner with a woman sitting on his lap and whispering in his ear, and the mayor in another corner, laughing as two women softly rubbed his inner thighs. Yes, the men wore shades and yes, they obviously thought the muted lighting would conceal their identity, but their arrogance wasn’t lost on Blake. He certainly had nothing to lose if someone said he was there — the opinions of others mattered nothing to him. The place guaranteed discretion, and no one in the room seemed in the least worried that their secrets would be shouted to the world. After all, they were all there for the same reasons, weren’t they? Curiosity — hunger.
“I thought the place was worth checking out,” Blake said coolly. “I haven’t decided if I will use your services.” There was no use in leading this woman on, but if he couldn’t even explain to himself why he was there, how would he explain it to her? Not that he owed anyone an explanation.
When he wanted a woman, he found one. It was that simple. His parents had died twenty-five years ago this month, and the anger that coursed through him on that account was stronger than any river he’d ever drifted down. That must be his reason for being here — an outlet for his inner rage.
“I think you will be quite satisfied with our selection,” McKenzie Beaumont said with a smile that told Blake he could indeed have whatever he wanted.
He looked around the room, but none of the women captured his fancy. He’d clearly made a mistake. The women were all stunning, but none of them did a thing for him. And he didn’t bed a woman without feeling a spark, without something about her making him want to take off his clothes — and hers.
“I agreed to come down here and look around. I’ll let you know if we can do business.”
He knew his money was wanted. Hell, it was wanted wherever he happened to go. He was one of the elite. That meant, of course, that his ass was kissed on a regular basis. He and his brothers were cynical, and that was okay, too. It was all just a part of the world they’d created for themselves.
The three siblings had learned from their mother at a young age to trust no one, not even those they should be able to trust above all others, and that depressing lesson had actually helped them. If they didn’t wear their heart on their sleeves, didn’t allow anyone even remotely close to the recesses of their hearts, they ran no risk of ever being traumatized again. That was the world they’d created. It was a good world.
Their greatest strength — their fraternal bond was paramount with them — was also a weakness. If an enemy wanted to get to one of them, he or she could do it through the other siblings. They would kill for each other, and they’d go to the ends of the earth, though they never spoke about that. They even tried not to think about it.
“Let me give you the tour of our facilities and tell you a little more about us, things that you won’t find on the website,” McKenzie said as she began leading him from the room. “We are particularly selective. Our women are, first and foremost, polished and elegant. No one will know you are with an escort. They are trained to be anything you need. We have a list of questions for you to answer, after which we will set you up with potential candidates, women who won’t question what you want from them. Not only that,” she said, pausing to look at him, “but they will also enjoy every minute of it.”
“Then why the public display of your ladies sitting on clients’ laps?” he asked with a mocking smile.
“Most of our clients are repeats. They like knowing they can come in here and be seduced. They like mocking society, flouting its rules — what others think of as wrong. We’ve never had any gossip or so-called scandal leaked from our premises and we never will, because no one comes through these doors who doesn’t guarantee discretion. Furthermore, our women aren’t for sale until they are ready.”
“And how do you deem them ready?” he asked.
“Through a lot of training. Many of the women who start here don’t last. They never see a client. They are put through many tests, and if they fail any of them, we fire them immediately.”
“And where do you find these women?” he asked as a woman made eye contact with him, and he turned away. Like the others, she did nothing for him.
“We donate a lot to the local shelters. Many women there have had hard times in their lives, and this is a great improvement for them. It gives them confidence and the ability to live a lifestyle they never before could have imagined. We don’t advertise. I handpick all of our women. Not one of them passes without my approval.”
“You call it improvement? They’re selling themselves,” Blake told her.
“We all fall on hard times, Mr. Knight. That doesn’t define who we are. How we choose to pick up the pieces of our lives defines us. Remember that we all sell ourselves in one way or another.”
Blake knew there was a story behind her words, and he found himself curious to discover what it was. But only for a moment. He shook his head, and the feeling passed. He wasn’t remotely interested in McKenzie Beaumont. Yes, she was young, and yes, she was beautiful and composed, but nothing about her stirred his blood. Blake doubted anyone in this place would have that effect on him.
He was a hardened man. Or was he? He felt himself almost uncomfortable in this woman’s presence. She had no qualms about her source of income — she seemed quite proud of it, in fact. Did she know what Blake had planned for one of her girls? Did she know it pleased him to make a woman weak, to break her very spirit?
Yes, he was sure that she did know, and that she even found some sort of sick pleasure in that knowledge. What should he think about that? He had reasons for doing what he did — reasons that he, at least, found valid. He knew it wasn’t what the world deemed right, but he survived each new day by doing what he had to. His mother had done this to him, as had his pathetic excuse for a father.
The woman who’d given birth to him had been cheating on his father, her husband, and that’s what had led to their death. Blake’s father had been a weak man, and it was something that Blake was determined never to be. He wasn’t the sort of man a woman brought home to her parents. And he felt no regret about that.
Blake was paying little attention to the tour of the agency’s surprisingly extensive facilities. McKenzie had taken him to the spa room, where he could see a few women getting beauty treatments, their bare bodies laid out on tables, their eyes connecting with his as he walked past, no shame in their expressions.