Chapter 9
Confessions on a Balcony
T hat night, Ottilie settled onto the wide resin wicker chair on her balcony and leaned back, closing her eyes. She let out an involuntary shudder of distaste at her day.
With her eyes closed, her brain focused on the distant street noises six floors below. Occasional honks came from crawling cars along The Strip, music blaring from both vehicles and the entertainment venues competing to lure in customers. Sometimes a drunken, angry shout sounded, but more often it was laughter and ribaldry. It was a city of dreams, after all.
“Tired, darling?” came a voice disconcertingly close.
Ottilie snapped her eyes open and climbed to her feet. Peering over the shoulder-high frosted-glass divider into the adjacent balcony, Ottilie spotted Monique in a lounge chair, partially hidden by a fake palm, serenely sipping a cocktail.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Monique said with a charming smile. “But you are rather luscious.”
Luscious . The word reminded her of Kensington’s unwanted attention, and it curdled Ottilie’s stomach again. “Can you just…not?” she said, exhaustion washing over her. “I’m not in the mood for your compliments.” She returned to her seat in annoyance.
Hidden once more, Monique was still easily heard. “How so?”
Ottilie frowned. “Just when I think I might like you, you start your flirting routine. Can’t you ever have a normal conversation? Does it have to always devolve into overfamiliarity?”
“I apologize.” Monique said, sounding sincere. “Is everything okay?”
How on earth could she sum up a day like today? Phyllis Kensington did a tedious lap of her brain, and Ottilie resented her all over again. She’d locked her away long ago, slammed her behind some large mental walls, and now she couldn’t get the obnoxious creature out of her head.
“I’m just dealing with an appalling person I’m determined I’ll never see again.”
“Ah. One of those.”
It sounded as if she could relate. Had she endured some clients who weren’t easy to control? Or, worse, who didn’t like taking no for an answer? She probably did in her line of work. Ottilie felt irritated all over again at Kensington and those of her ilk.
“How do you deal with people who give you indigestion?” Ottilie asked after a few moments, staring resentfully into the night sky. “People you just cannot abide and who insert themselves into your space regardless?”
“I call Security,” Monique said lightly. “And I make sure I never deal with them again. Gone.”
Ottilie hesitated. “Do they leave your head so easily too?”
“Has something happened?” Monique sounded truly concerned now.
She drew in a breath. Perhaps, of everyone, Monique would understand. Except Ottilie didn’t share. Anything. Ever. First rule of the spy game they’d drilled into her as a trainee was to keep your mouth shut. But even before that, her diplomat mother had warned her of the dangers of loose lips.
“Share only what you must to lubricate a discussion and draw others out,” she’d warned her often enough. “No more. No less.”
Such lessons had made making friends as a child difficult.
The silence dragged on too long because Monique finally said: “You don’t have to tell me. I promise I’m not prying. No judgment. But if you wanted to vent, I’m someone who has heard just about everything.”
She probably had.
Ottilie warred with herself. It wasn’t as if Monique Carson was anyone in her life. In a few days, Ottilie would leave Vegas, never seeing her again. A stranger with a few of Ottilie’s low-tier secrets was not someone who could harm her. Monique didn’t know who Ottilie was, where she’d worked, or even her last name.
“I am exceptional at compartmentalizing,” Ottilie suddenly said. “It has kept me able to do work others would likely fail at.”
Monique said warmly, “I’d believe it.”
Ignoring the praise, Ottilie pushed on. “Today I dealt with someone from my past who is not a good person.”
She almost snorted at the ludicrousness of that. Who in Ottilie’s working life had ever actually been good? She recalled Michelle once asking her if they had any cases that were actually good and Ottilie had choked. One did not engage The Fixers if they wanted “good” done. One engaged The Fixers if they wanted to pay to further their name, power, success, money, or entitlement.
The only decent human who had ever darkened their headquarters had been a crusading employee, Eden Lawless, who’d swiftly left again after coming to the blinding realization she was far too good for their immoral little cesspit.
Monique asked, “And this not-good person bothered you today?”
“Correct. And I’m unaccustomed to not being able to push someone annoying aside as beneath my notice.”
“Because you’re ‘good at compartmentalizing.’ Ordinarily.” Understanding filled Monique’s voice.
“Yes. It’s rare someone gets under my skin and stays there. It’s…disconcerting. And the stress of it all has my neck aching again.” Ottilie stopped in irritation at herself. “That wasn’t a hint, by the way,” she said hastily.
“Oh, I know. But if you’d like another neck massage, you have only to ask. I’d be happy to help. Sounds like you need one after your day.” Then, “No strings attached. No requirements for breakfasts or anything else. I’m just being neighborly.”
Memories of how blissful the last one was filled Ottilie. “Honestly,” she said, tone heartfelt, “I’d love that.”
“Come around to my door. Meet you there.”
* * *
Ottilie was melting into Monique’s warm, teasing fingers, into a space without pain, and it was bliss. Her body was lighting up along the edges of her touch, and Ottilie was all but purring.
“How are you so good at that?” she murmured.
“Practice. And care. Remember? We had that discussion.”
Ottilie remembered. But she’d also forgotten just how good Monique could make her feel. “I could get addicted to this.”
“Then I’m doing it right.” Monique’s fingers were working Ottilie’s shoulders now.
Ottilie’s head lolled forward. “I’m very grateful.”
“You don’t have to say that,” Monique assured her. “You don’t have to say anything. But if you do want to talk to me, I promise anything you share would die with me.” Monique’s fingers never stopped their gentle stroking.
“There’s not much to tell,” Ottilie said. “My irritant, for want of a better word, simply reminded me of an incident between us a year or so prior which I greatly detested.”
“An incident you buried away because you compartmentalize,” Monique guessed. “And your irritant unburied it today.”
“Yes.” She paused. “I cannot work out why I’m so bothered,” Ottilie admitted, “by the…unburying.”
“No one likes old wounds being scraped over, Ottilie,” Monique murmured, sliding her fingers over Ottilie’s scalp. It felt incredible. “Not even you are that impressive to be unbothered by it.”
That was true, unfortunately. Ottilie appreciated how Monique didn’t push her for more details. “And yet I’m disconcerted. The issue that was raised…” she inhaled, unsure whether to say it. Michelle’s warning to talk about it circled her brain.
On the one hand, she never usually shared anything of importance. On the other, she’d tortured herself enough over freezing when Kensington had shocked her that night. She didn’t want to go through the self-recriminations again.
Later, she’d invested far too much time and energy on all the things “she should have done”. Not just regarding Kensington, but when Ottilie had taken it to the board. Twice.
The first time—the sexual harassment complaint—the four men had shrugged. One, with arousal tinging his voice, had asked if he could watch the video. Ottilie had glowered at him until he’d withdrawn the request.
Then they’d told her there was no one who could replace Kensington, nor did they want to replace her, and since Ottilie had turned down Kensington’s request with venom, they considered the matter dealt with and closed.
But the board’s response to her second complaint—the bullying—involved them telling Ottilie that managing “difficult personalities” was part of her job. That stung. They actually had the audacity to look bored. That had been almost as galling as Kensington’s transgressions.
Monique swirled her fingers all over the back of Ottilie’s head.
Ottilie finally said, “The issue causing me difficulty is regarding consent.”
The magic fingers stopped. Monique’s tone became tight when she said, “Consent? As in lack of it?”
“Yes.” She suddenly worried about where Monique’s mind had leapt to. “I don’t mean…” Ottilie exhaled. “It was about crossing lines not consented to. I was able to remove myself. But today, she enjoyed rubbing my nose in it, reminding me of what she did back then.”
“She? Your irritant is a woman?” Surprise filled Monique’s voice.
“It’s partly why I didn’t anticipate her attack. Foolish, I realize now. Especially since I already knew she’d done this before to another woman. I just didn’t think she’d notice me. No one does—which is intentional.” It had been a fair assumption Kensington would overlook her too.
“Oh, Ottilie.” Sympathy filled Monique’s voice, and she resumed stroking her neck.
“At the time, I was so shocked, I didn’t do much but get out of her way.”
“And now you’ve been second-guessing yourself over how you handled it? Along with feeling…shame? Embarrassment? Self-blame, perhaps?”
“Yes,” Ottilie admitted quietly.
“And then you locked these emotions all away and felt the incident was dealt with. Until today, when this woman reappeared and shattered your equilibrium?” Monique asked in a kind voice.
“ Shattered is a strong word…” Ottilie frowned, hating the taste of it. She was not some pathetic victim curled up in the corner. Never that.
“Unbalanced it, then?”
Unbalanced . That would do. “Yes.”
“And seeing her again brought back all these emotions despite the fact you’re good at compartmentalization. This astonishes you. Perhaps you think your mind has given it more weight than it deserves?”
“That is…accurate.” Ottilie hesitated before continuing. “Years ago, something much more frightening happened to me in the line of work. I was a children’s tutor in a foreign country. Political events overtook me, and I found myself imprisoned for a few months until I determined a way to attain my freedom and that of my companions. That event, in every way, shape and form, was worse. Far worse.”
It had been years since she’d thought of being taken hostage in Beirut.
“That sounds terrifying.” Monique’s hands came to cup her shoulders. Her fingers clenched.
“My point is not that it happened but that the recent event involving my…irritant…bothers me more! How can that be? That’s the source of my confusion. This recent incident was so insignificant compared to the one when I was twenty-four. That’s what’s so galling. It was just…unwanted groping in the office.” She scoffed. “Disgusting remarks. And witnessing self-gratification that I didn’t consent to. In Beirut, though, I was…” She faded out. Ottilie hadn’t intended to reveal where it had occurred.
“Beirut?” Monique drew in a tight breath.
“Where it happened is irrelevant.”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a lot more to that story?”
“Politics can be volatile, and innocent people often get caught up in it. The where isn’t the point.”
“Darling”—Monique’s hands slowly resumed their massage—“I do know when someone’s skipping all around the truth. But I accept your need for your secrets. So, back to the topic: why Beirut affects you less emotionally than your office harasser? Would you like to know what I think?”
“I would.” Ottilie pursed her lips and waited.
Monique’s fingers made slick scribbles up her neck. “The issue isn’t about degree of severity. You’re focused on the wrong thing. It’s about power.”
“Power?”
“In the most recent event, you had none. You hated that. Even if the irritant retreated, even if she’d done ‘nothing much’ to you, you still had a moment of feeling vulnerable and helpless. Powerless.”
Ottilie shut her eyes, detesting that memory.
“You’re not used to feeling powerless, I think. I’d guess that your whole identity is about being in control at all times. Back in Beirut, although you were a captive, it sounds as though you took the initiative and freed yourself.”
Her fingers traced a small scar at the base of Ottilie’s neck. “ You decided how to handle the situation, and you enacted a solution. You had the power. The more recent incident, though—no power. You felt utterly without control.”
The impact of the words slammed into Ottilie. That made complete sense.
“And today you saw this woman again, the one who made you feel helpless, and it all came rushing back. You probably had a flashback to how vulnerable you felt, compartmentalizing be damned.”
Eyes springing open, she ground out a “yes.”
“And now you feel disappointed in yourself for experiencing it again?”
Ottilie’s shame bubbled up once more. “I feel I acted with…weakness then. But not even being able to push away that feeling now? It’s…” Absurd . Risible! “Unexpected.”
“It’s understandable. I’ve had one or two clients whom I get flashes of at unexpected times. Clients who think my rules are mere guidelines and try to cross my boundaries. Toxic people can play on your mind for a long time if you let them. Just today I had a client who thought, because of who she was, her status and her wealth, I’d just roll over and take whatever she demanded. That’s somewhat acceptable if you’re still respectful of your partner. She wasn’t. Disturbing woman.”
Ottilie’s heart clenched at that. “It seems we both had entitled people to contend with today. I’m sorry you went through something awful too.”
“It’s fine. I can snap pretty much anyone back into line with a sharp warning.”
“But not all,” Ottilie noted.
“No, not all,” Monique said with a sigh, “Three times in my career things have gotten out of my control. It’s a deeply unsettling feeling.”
“How did you handle it?”
Monique stepped away from Ottilie’s back, signaling she was done, and wiped her hands on a towel. “Don’t move.” She fetched a towel and wiped the oil at the base of Ottilie’s neck, then continued talking. “As I said earlier, I called Security and let them deal with it. They did—efficiently. I’m a valued guest, after all.”
“You would be if you’ve been here fourteen years. They must love you, even if hotel management doesn’t know what you do exactly.” Ottilie did up her blouse’s top buttons.
“Oh, they probably know. Women like me are in hotels all over the world. The smart managers treat us as businesswomen and look the other way. If we don’t bring them problems, they don’t make them for us.”
“It’s good the management here is pragmatic, then,” Ottilie said. “I don’t imagine they all are.”
“No, not all are.” Monique paused, thinking. “Although a new CEO recently took over the hotel chain, and he’s here in Duxton Vegas now, overseeing a staffing crisis. I have no idea how accommodating he’d be to me. I hate having a lack of certainty.”
“It would be unsettling,” Ottilie murmured. “I also hate uncertainty.”
Monique came to sit on the bed facing Ottilie’s chair and smiled. “Look at us finding common ground. Anyway, back to our topic at hand. On consent issues, when lines are crossed, I always feel disconcerted. As if I should have handled it differently. But…” She met Ottilie’s eye. “It doesn’t mean what happened was my fault. It never means that.”
“I don’t feel responsible for what happened. More…unprepared. And angry that she felt it was her right to take what she wanted because she saw me as her underling. An…inferior.”
“She saw you as inferior?” Monique’s eyebrows lifted. “ You ?”
“People see what they expect to see,” Ottilie answered cryptically. “She is an arrogant, entitled woman who hides her true nature well. The board did nothing when I complained.”
“That’s appalling. Why wouldn’t they act?”
“Because…” Ottilie sighed. “She was the company CEO.”
Monique hissed in a breath. “I’m not shocked, I suppose. By the CEO or the board. Power does strange things to people. It doesn’t make them insensitive or sexual predators, of course, but it does make them feel invincible. So, whatever their foibles are, they feel freer to indulge.”
“Yes,” Ottilie said. “I believe that’s true for many with power. I never succumbed to that weakness, but others are less evolved.”
Silence chilled the room. And then Ottilie realized her mistake. “Not that I’m powerful,” she added quickly. “How could I be, if I found myself in that situation? Treated as the inferior?”
It was too late, though. Monique was studying her with far too much awareness. “Oh, but you are, aren’t you?” She sounded intrigued for a moment, and then her expression fell. “Was that what made it worse? You were powerful in your own right, and someone even more powerful took advantage? Any one of us can be made to feel small and powerless in certain circumstances. I know I’ve felt that. It’s a disturbing feeling.”
“You?” Ottilie couldn’t picture it. Monique radiated confidence and strength.
“Everyone,” Monique said. “Yes, even me.”
“I…suppose.”
“By the way, I know a therapist who specializes in clients who’ve gone through harassment or sexual assault. Several women in my line of work swear by her. I could give you her card?”
“Not necessary, thanks. I think I’ll be more at ease now that I’ve initiated some payback. She won’t underestimate me again.”
Monique tilted her head. “Good for you. Now, if only I could hire you to take care of the annoying senator who ruined my day earlier.”
Ottilie froze. “Excuse me?”
Regarding her in confusion, Monique asked, “What?”
“Which senator?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. And I’ve had too many tequilas to drown my sorrows or I wouldn’t have even let slip her profession.” She smiled, or started to, then stopped. “Why have you gone so pale?”
Ottilie didn’t speak. What were the odds?
“Oh hell.” Monique pursed her lips. “You think we both dealt with the same woman? No, there are many senators in this world.”
“ Senators who happen to be in Vegas now, who are also female , entitled, and who prefer sex with other women are not plentiful.”
“It would be a short list, yes, but not necessarily a list of one,” Monique tried.
A very short list indeed. “By any chance does your senator profess to cook? Is with the Republican Party? And is actually a former senator?”
Monique’s expression became pinched.
Identity confirmed. “How often?” Ottilie hoped she wasn’t a regular because…just… no .
“I can’t answer that.” Because that would confirm Kensington was a client.
Monique went still for a moment and then huffed. “Just the once.” She sighed. “There was something off about her. She tried to ignore my rules, and multiple times, I had to warn her. In the end, she stormed out. Won’t miss her.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with Phyllis Kensington in a bad mood. She’s unpleasant.”
Monique nodded. “Agreed. But that’s on her.”
“Still, it must be hard, dealing with clients you wouldn’t choose to be around, with or without the intimacy.”
“It doesn’t happen often. In fact, it’s quite unusual.” Monique’s lips quirked. “I can usually see the beauty in every woman.”
“How interesting.” Ottilie hesitated. “I don’t see beauty in anyone.”
“What do you mean?” Interest flared in Monique’s eyes.
“I’m only attracted to someone I find intelligent. I simply don’t see them as attractive otherwise.”
“How does that work, though? You can’t know someone’s intelligent until they engage with you. That must mean everyone in passing is unattractive to you?”
“More like…they are bland to me. For instance, meeting Cleo’s dancers? I understand society thinks they’re beautiful; I just don’t see it. They all looked to me to be tall, athletic, and symmetrical. With nice hair.”
Monique laughed. “Symmetrical! Oh God, I’ve got to tell Cleo that.”
“I’m not sure how to explain better except to say that very few people spark my intellectual curiosity. And those who do…” She pondered Hannah for a moment. “I actually feel protective of them. Because they’re rare to me. Special.”
“And then do you find them attractive?”
“Yes.” She did think of Hannah as attractive, for instance, as well as her granddaughter, Michelle. There was no denying their intellect. “But just finding someone intelligent, and therefore attractive, doesn’t mean anything. Who wants to be with every attractive person they meet? To me, good looks would be just another facet of who they are. Like their height, ethnicity, skills, and personality. That’s all it is to me.”
“How fascinating. I’ve heard about people who are like this—sapiosexuals? You’re the first I’ve met.”
“I hate that word. It makes me sound like an exotic species of lizard or something. Why do we have to label everything?”
Monique laughed. “Okay, I won’t use it. So, when did you first realize you viewed the world differently than most other people?”
Thinking back, Ottilie stopped in her teenage years. “When I was at a party once, I was with two girls from high school I didn’t know very well and a boy we’d just met. I didn’t find any of them attractive. Then, one of the girls, Hope, started telling me in incredible depth about her science project. The more she spoke, the more I realized she was very good-looking.”
“Go on.”
“At the end of the evening, after Hope and the boy had left, I apologized to the second girl for ignoring her. She said she didn’t mind because it gave her a lot of time with the boy. She declared him gorgeous ; I hadn’t even noticed.” Ottilie drew in a breath. “Then she said it was so nice of me to spend all that time with Hope, given she was so boring and plain; everyone thought so. I realized then that I saw her as beautiful. It came as a shock to realize how out of step I was with everyone else.”
Monique sat back. “Amazing. And that’s not ‘out of step,’ Ottilie, it’s unique. I love discovering diversity in sexuality and attraction. I’m at the opposite end of the spectrum from you. I can see beauty in so many aspects of a woman’s form. But you only see beauty as an afterthought, and only if they’re smart.”
“Yes. I do see their talents and abilities, of course; it’s just that I’m blind to their looks. But in that sense, are we so different? I can find beauty in the plainest of people, whom society dismisses as ugly, and you can too?”
Monique laughed. “That’s a different way of looking at it.” She shot her a mischievous look. “Dare I ask whether you find me attractive?”
“Too soon to say,” Ottilie said lightly. “I have, however, upgraded you from tedious, which is where I place the vast majority of people, so there’s hope.” She couldn’t hide her lips twitching.
“I see.” Monique grinned. “Please let me know immediately if you are suddenly aware of my devastating beauty.”
“In that event, I’m sure you’ll be overcome with joy,” Ottilie drawled.
“Oh, but I will be. You are an impressive woman, Ottilie.”
“And you’re starting to look smarter by the second,” Ottilie teased.
“And, therefore, more attractive.” Monique smiled sweetly. “Have I mentioned that I love how clever you are and how observant? It’s like meeting myself.”
“Oh, I’m not sure you’re that clever,” Ottilie shot back. “Anyway, I think your interest in me is more because I’m a challenge. Unraveling me is a game to you.”
Monique studied her for a long moment. “No, Ottilie. I’m enjoying getting to know you . It’s not just for fun. I’ve truly never met anyone like you in my life, and I’ve met a lot of people.”
“Cleo said something today about how you sent me to her. That you wanted her opinion on me. Is that true?”
With a sheepish look, Monique admitted, “Perhaps.”
“That’s a yes, then.”
“I just wondered if she found you as interesting as I did. I wanted to know if it was all in my head how fascinating you seem to be.”
“And?”
“It turns out you greatly impressed her with your deductive reasoning and character profiling.”
Ottilie regarded her. “I found out something about you today. You don’t have any friends aside from Cleo.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“We all have our secrets, Ottilie.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Ask me something else.”
Ottilie could hardly object to that. “Why did you never tell me you were in investments?”
“Who says I am?”
“Cleo’s dancers. They’re enthusiastic groupies.”
“Ah.” Monique’s expression settled. “Well, yes, I’m CEO of an investment company. Semi-retired now as I’m slowly training my replacement, but I still retain the title and the power. And, because I remember what it was like being young and foolish and awash in money, I personally set up share portfolios for Cleo’s dancers.”
“Were you a dancer once too?”
“Me? Never.” Monique laughed. “No, I was studying finance at college when a talent scout discovered me. I wound up doing runway modeling in Europe for a few years. I noticed how little financial advice the girls got. I helped out one or two, and then word got around that I was the one to go to for those who wanted investment advice. I was so good at it that I set up my own company. My model agency boss even invested with me—and also fired me for not being focused enough on modeling.”
“Oh dear.”
“No, it was fair; I wasn’t. By then, I was fascinated by the whole process of turning something small into something big but, more than that, being the one to correctly predict market trends. But I wanted to do everything ethically.”
“That’s different.”
“It was in those days. When I was back in the US, my first clients were all models and friends of models I’d helped earlier. I met Cleo and her dancers when I was in Vegas for a convention, and I helped them out too. I stayed because I loved the energy of the city. And I was also madly in love with Cleo.” Her eyes crinkled. “Anyway, having a niche—in my case, ethical investing—allowed me to thrive.”
Ottilie’s brain shifted a few facts around. “Ethical investing.” She shook her head slowly as the penny dropped. “You’re…” Ottilie stopped. “Carson Investments is the world’s largest ethical investment company. Are you saying Carson Investments is you? You’re that Carson?”
Monique smiled. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Why do you do sex work when you don’t have to?” Ottilie gasped out.
With a sigh, as if this was the thousandth time she’d heard the question, Monique said, “Because I enjoy showing women how to love their bodies. I have a skill for it, and that is fulfilling. Seeing women open up like a flower. Watching the wonder on a woman’s face having her first orgasm? Or a seventy-year-old having another orgasm after so long without? If you love your work, why stop?”
“Do you love finance too?”
“Yes. In a different way. On that note, I also would appreciate you not sharing both of my professions with anyone. I’m not ashamed of anything I do, but I like to keep things delineated as best I can.” Monique waved at her. “You’re now one of only a tiny group who know of both my jobs. Cleo’s dancers know only that I’m in investment. You, up until now, knew only that I was a sex fantasies expert. I prefer that few people know both.”
“In case your shareholders get twitchy about a sex worker being the CEO of Carson Investments?”
“I employ so many people. I’d hate to have to downsize my business because a lot of clients bailed on moral grounds.”
“Would they, though?” Ottilie asked. “Surely people tend to follow the money, regardless of who’s handing it out.”
“Usually true. But remember, I’m the head of an ethical investment firm? My clients tend to have very firm views on what’s right and wrong and good and bad, and I’m pretty sure a lot of them put sex worker in the naughty category. Not even in the good-naughty category.”
“I understand. I won’t tell a soul.”
“Yes, I suspect you’re very good at keeping secrets.”
Ottilie merely smiled.
“So how does someone like you wind up in Vegas, of all places?” Monique asked. “And how do you know so much about identifying sociopaths hiding amidst dancers?”
“I’m observant.”
“You’re far more than that.”
Ottilie regarded her. “What are you really asking me?”
“I just… I can’t believe you’re a mere personal assistant. There’s so much more to you. I can feel it.”
“And I can’t believe you’re the CEO of one of the top investment companies in the world. It’s hard to reconcile.”
“Because I’m such a sex-focused soul?” Monique’s eyes twinkled.
“Actually, yes.”
“Can’t picture me with cute nerd glasses perched on the edge of my nose as I go over a spreadsheet?” she asked, lips curling.
“Well, now I can.” Ottilie wondered what she was supposed to do with that image. She smiled back in spite of herself.
“Flirt.” Monique’s own smile became wide. “I’ll take it, though.”
Ottilie blinked. “I’m quite sure no one’s ever accused me of flirting in my life.”
“Not even your boyfriends? Or is it girlfriends?” she asked innocently.
Ottilie waved that fishing expedition away.
“I’m honored to be flirted with, in any event,” Monique murmured. “Now, it’s been a long, exhausting day for us both. I’d love to continue this conversation at a later date.”
Taking the hint, Ottilie rose. “Thank you for the massage. My neck feels much better.”
“I’m glad. And I very much enjoy talking to you, Ottilie.” Monique walked her to the door. “I hope to see you again soon.”
I’d like that , Ottilie almost said without thinking. She mentally stopped and rewound and realized she truly meant it.
How…unexpected.