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“I’m sorry to have offended you.” Helen replaced her disappointment with the same poker face Monique used. She knew it well. “Please, forgive me. And don’t hold this against any of my friends or colleagues. They have no idea I’m here.”
“Wouldn’t have assumed so.” Even when these people were together, they worked independently. “Apology accepted. I merely think we got our wires crossed. I am not available.”
“No, of course not.” Helen cleared her throat and continued to smooth out her jacket. Every time she did this, she created more wrinkles. “If I may say…”
“Go on.”
“This only makes me more interested in you.”
Monique showed her out after that.Dommes. She latched the door to her quarters and turned to face her small, private hallway where she likewise kept her secrets, fears, and heartbreak locked away.Women!Apparently, Helen thought Monique was playing hard to get.
Maybe she was.
Chapter 5
Clipped Wings
“How much is it worth?” Monique tapped her fingers, her favorite appraiser sitting on the other side of her desk and studying the diamonds in the collar. “I want to know if it’s more feasible to sell it or give it to one of my employees.”
The appraiser, aptly named Mr. Jules, looked up with his ocular device still in his eye. He was a frail man for only being sixty-five, but he was one of the only qualified individuals in the city Monique could convince to make house calls. She summoned him every time they received a gift of patronage to confirm what she suspected.
I have no idea what to expect with this. As much as she wished she could be rid of the collar in only a few minutes, she was still a businesswoman and had to keep her coffers in mind. If the collar was worth a nice sum, she could get a better payday. However, if Helen Warner had underestimated her worth, well… Moniquewould make sure she returned one night to see another woman wearing that collar.That’s what I think of that. Any of her ladies would be delighted to have it. Such a thing meant nothing more than status to their clients.It would be an excellent way to embarrass Ms. Warner.
Mr. Jules spent another minute staring at one of the diamonds before sitting up with a sigh. He removed his instruments and jotted something down on a pad of paper before clearing his throat and telling Monique what she had been waiting to hear. “This is only my professional guess at the moment, but I would estimate this… piece of finery… to be worth about…”
“Yes?’
“Thirty thousand dollars.”
‘Thirty…” Monique clapped her mouth shut and summoned the propriety she always needed in these situations. She couldn’t tell Mr. Jules the collar was so far the most expensive patronage gift anyone had received. She couldn’t tell him that it was worth more than the solid gold collar she had with Jacqueline. She couldn’t even tell him that it had been for her! While Mr. Jules wasn’t the type to blab around town about her business, there were some things people didn’t need to know. “Thank you. You sure that’s a good estimate?”
“In truth, it may be more. I’m assuming all the diamonds have the lowest grade I can confirm. The silver is solid, though. The only thing bringing down the value is the inscription. That’s only if you sold it as is. If you pieced out the diamonds and sold the silver as scrap, you could get a lovely price.”
“Naturally.” That’s what she would do. Not for the better price, but to also… what? Do the professional thing, since Helen’s name was on that? “Thank you for your help. This helps me make some decisions.”
Mr. Jules saw himself out, leaving Monique to sit with her silver collar and chain.Thirty-thousand dollars.She knewHelen was loaded, but most patrons – let alone clients – didn’t drop that much money on a gift for one woman. Even Ms. Carlisle, who spoiled Sybil silly, never went higher than twelve thousand for a full set of jewelry. These people bled green. That didn’t mean they bled for their sugar babies and mistresses.
The more Monique let herself think about it, the more she heard Helen’s voice echoing in her head.“We’re two halves.”Part of her attraction to the submissive lifestyle was the beautiful binary presented to her. Things were black and white. Roles were clear. She never had to think beyond what she wanted for dinner and what she should wear that day – unless they were chosen for her, of course. She liked it when her Domme picked out a fashionable outfit for her to wear, ordered for her in a restaurant, and told her where they were going. But it only worked if her Mistress knew her enough to understand she would feel great in that dress, love the meal, and enjoy the sights they saw. Monique was envious of her friends who had such lovers in their lives.
“I desire to be your patron.”Monique’s nail scratched against the inscription. How had she overlooked the potential inside Helen? When they met, she assumed she was like any other dominant but polite woman. That was until she told her what she had really been thinking – that she was Domme through and through.
Before any woman could be accepted as a patron, Monique did some research on her. What she did, where she lived, how she made her millions or billions… Helen Warner was a name she hadn’t heard before. Either she dropped a good amount of her fortune on this collar and chain, or she was a sleeper businesswoman who controlled the world from behind the scenes. She wasn’t the face of a major company. She wasn’t a famous heiress that showed up on Page 6. She was old money,but she knew how to use it. Monique’s last lover was old money as well.And look how that turned out for me.
Old-money women were snobbish and out of touch. New money women were reckless and prone to bad decisions. Monique would never find a good balance.
Her phone rang.
The landline on her desk, of course, not her cell phone. Few had access to that. Monique shook her head to clear the cobwebs before snatching up the phone and saying, “You have reached Monique Grant. Speak.”
Nothing surprised her anymore. Not even hearing Helen’s voice on the other end of the line. “Glad to hear you sounding so cheerful today.”
The collar was soon covered in Monique’s sweat. “What can I do for you, Ms. Warner?”
“Please, Helen.”
“No, Ms. Warner.”
The pause was surely not comforting for either of them. “I was wondering if you would do me the honor of dinner, Ms. Grant.”
