Page 23 of Mayfair Madame
Getting a taxi took longer than I anticipated, but what did I expect in London at seven p.m.? Tonight was a night at the theatre, on the arm of a successful businessman. We’d been out before, and like Rupert, it was my company he paid for. My days of having sex with my clients were well and truly over.
I left that to the people who worked for me. All at their discretion, of course. I never dictated to them what they shoulddo and never would. If they wanted to go the whole way, that was up to them. As long as they were careful and took the necessary precautions.
But I’d given that up a long time ago.
I arrived at the Victoria Palace Theatre in good time. Hamilton was the show, which I’d seen a few times already.
One perk of being an escort was that I got to see the biggest shows and got invited to the most exclusive parties.
Thankfully, the outfit I wore hid the bruises, although they were fading. My date, Jeffrey, waited by the door, holding a box of chocolates and a corsage.
Old school, that was what he was, and I knew I was safe in his company.
“Naomi, you’re looking beautiful as ever. Are you ready for the show? I’ve wanted to see this for such a long time.”
“Jeffrey, how thoughtful. I’ve been looking forward to seeing it too.”
Normally, I’d go to parties with him, but sometimes he just wanted company and was happy to pay for it.
“Shall we take our seats? The show’s about to start. I’ve ordered some drinks for the interval. I hope that’s okay. I ordered you a gin like you normally have.”
People stared, as they usually did, but we were used to it. Who wouldn’t? He was a seventy-year-old, grey-haired man, thirty-five years my senior. Well dressed with a pink rose in his buttonhole, matching the corsage he’d bought me.
I was a slim black woman with short blonde hair. Tonight I wore a white pantsuit and a pair of gold flats.
If the looks and whispered comments were anything to go by, they knew what I was, but if Jeffrey didn’t care, neither did I.
He was the sweetest man I knew, except for Rupert.
I took his arm as we made our way to the stalls and our seats.
“Jeffrey, Naomi.” A voice I now detested came from behind.
“Clement, how the devil are you?” Jeffrey had no history with him, whereas I had every reason not to want to speak to him again.
“I’m well. How do you know Naomi?” Clement said with a smile.
I glared at the bastard, my jaw aching from clenching it so tightly. He knew exactly what he was doing, and if we weren’t in company, I’d have punched him so hard his teeth would have rattled in his head.
“Why don’t you tell Jeffrey how you know me, Clement?” I popped my hip and tilted my head, daring him to tell the truth.
“Well, I, erm.” He ran his hand through his hair and refused to look at either of us. “Enjoy the show.”
He darted away, and Jeffrey laughed. “Supercilious prick of a man. I’ve never liked him.”
“Join the club.”
“I take it he’s a client of yours.”
“You know I can’t tell you that, Jeffrey. Now let’s go take our seats. I don’t want to miss the start.”
The rest of the evening passed without incident. The show was amazing and Jeffrey was wonderful company, the perfect gentleman. He treated me like a lady the entire evening.
“I have a party in a few weeks’ time and would love it if you could come with me. I haven’t RSVP’d yet.”
“I’ll check the calendar, but I don’t see a reason I can’t make it. I always have time for you, Jeffrey. You’re my favourite client.”
“Then I’ll talk to your lovely assistant. I’m not good with computers.”
