Page 1 of Mayfair Madame (Mayfair Heights #1)

Chapter One

Naomi

“ T his is Naomi.” I jumped as my date’s hand slipped from the small of my back to my arse and squeezed.

If he weren’t paying me to be here, I’d have slapped his face. Instead, I giggled into my hand and played the subservient girlfriend.

Except, I was no one’s girlfriend. I was a high-class escort. A call girl. A prostitute. Call it what you will, but I charged a fee for my time, and I wasn’t cheap.

A different night brought a different client, and as long as they paid up front, I’d be anyone they wanted me to be. Girlfriend, fake wife. It didn’t matter to me. Cold, hard cash mattered.

The man standing opposite me guffawed. “Where’d you find this one, Winthrop? Seems like you have a different girl on your arm every damn time I see you. But this one…” A sliver of disgust washed through me as his eyes roamed my body, lingering on the long gold chain nestled between my breasts.

Oscar, my stylist, had outdone himself. The gold beaded gown I wore cost more than I paid him each month, but my client was important, and I needed to impress. It left little to the imagination, the low-cut neckline showing more than a hint of cleavage.

The client, Clement Winthrop, was a businessman of note. A multi-millionaire, no less, and this wasn’t the first time he’d hired me, but if he carried on being handsy, it’d be the last. While I didn’t have a ‘no touching’ rule in the contract, overtly sexual touches weren’t allowed for good reason.

I wasn’t some piece of meat they could fondle whenever they wanted to. This was a business transaction. Nothing more, nothing less.

I expected all my girls and boys to be treated the same. Too many times I’d seen it lead to more, especially with the entitled arseholes we often worked with who thought the rules didn’t apply to them.

Each employee had their own limitations, but I encouraged them to abide by this one important clause. I’d seen firsthand what could happen when things went too far.

Despite his wandering hands, I felt safer with Clement than I did with the man currently salivating over me.

Bad vibes emanated from him. He was old and obese, with sagging jowls.

The smell of stale alcohol and cigar smoke lingered on his clothes and breath.

His thick, bushy beard and moustache made me think of Santa, but that was where the comparison ended.

I’d never seen Father Christmas with a lascivious look in his eyes, or an obvious bulge in his trousers.

But there was no way I was letting a creep like him intimidate me. Better men had tried and failed.

“Clement, you didn’t tell me this fine man’s name.” I subtly removed his hand from my arse to my waist.

“I’m Benjamin Godfrey. Lord Benjamin Godfrey. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Naomi. You really are quite exquisite.” Again with the staring. It was disconcerting, and my insides churned beneath his gaze. “I thought you were single, Clement.”

“Yes. Well, I kind of am. Naomi isn’t really my girlfriend.” Clement stuttered, not the most confident man.

“Ah, I get it.” Benjamin tapped the end of his nose, and he smiled smugly. “Say no more, Winthrop. When you’re done with her, I’d be happy to take her off your hands.”

I struggled to hold in the laughter that bubbled in my throat. Did he seriously think he had a chance with me? All the money in the world wouldn’t tempt me to go with that old goat.

“I’m right here, gentlemen, and there’ll be no passing me around.” I glared at him, daring him to say more.

“No. No, of course not,” Clement said, his voice shaky. “We would never do that to you. Would we, Benjamin?”

I didn’t wait for an answer, desperate to escape.

“I’ll leave you two to talk. I need to find the little girl’s room, anyway.”

It didn’t happen often, but that man made my skin crawl. As I walked out of the room, I felt his eyes on me, and I only relaxed as I climbed the sweeping staircase to the bathroom.

I’d been here many times before, but not with Clement. Upon arrival this evening, the hostess, Lady Hartlebury, had greeted me with a warm embrace.

“It’s so lovely to see you again, Naomi.” She’d whispered in my ear.

“You too, Emmeline.” I’d held her close, shocked by how frail she’d become since the last time we’d met.

We’d had a brief affair several years ago, despite her being considerably older than me. It had been a torrid, passionate few months. Her husband had recently passed, and I’d been a distraction more than anything else, but with the business I was in, we’d agreed to end it before a scandal ensued.

I lingered by the bedroom door and remembered the nights we’d lain awake, naked in each other’s arms. She’d talked about her husband, her tears soaking the pillow.

I touched the door gently and smiled at the memories, the look on her face as we’d shared the first of many orgasms. She’d been beautiful then, but illness had robbed her of her vitality. How long did she have left?

The bathroom was a few doors down, and I entered, locking the door behind me.

It was some bathroom. A deep, claw footed bath with gold taps, a large marble counter with inset basins and a huge ornate framed mirror. It screamed money.

Pressure in my bladder reminded me I needed to pee, and I squeezed my legs shut.

Damn Oscar and his bright ideas. The dress was fantastic but so tight it left nothing to the imagination.

“You’ll have to go commando.” He’d said. “You’ll ruin the line of the dress otherwise. No bra. No knickers, not even a thong.”

I’d rolled my eyes at him and no doubt cursed, but he’d been right, as usual, although I wouldn’t tell him that.

I placed my clutch bag on the marble counter and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My lipstick was fading, and I’d need to do a quick touch-up before I rejoined the party.

But first, how the fuck did I get myself out of this dress? Did I pull it up or slip it down?

I tried pulling it up. Nope, that wasn’t happening. Guess it would need to come off the other way.

I slipped the thin straps down my arms and shimmied out of the dress.

I stepped out of the pool of fabric on the floor and gathered it up, folding it neatly.

It left me wearing nothing but a pair of expensive diamond earrings and my gold Jimmy Choo sandals.

I’d need to speak to Oscar tomorrow about his choice of dress.

Goosebumps covered my body, and I shivered, my nipples hardening. With a wobble, I sat on the toilet and sighed as I relieved myself. Could I face doing this again?

God, no. I’d wait until I got home to have another drink. Not that I drank much when I was working. I much preferred being in control, and alcohol only dulled the senses. I’d learnt from experience never to let my guard down.

With some difficulty, I redressed. I reapplied my make-up and checked my phone. A couple of emails, but nothing that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

I smoothed down the dress and took one last look in the mirror. I breathed deeply to calm myself and opened the door.

A sharp shove knocked me backwards. I dropped my bag and tried to grab hold of anything to steady myself.

What the fuck was going on?

“You fucking prick tease.” Benjamin Godfrey had far more strength than I gave him credit for. He slammed the door behind him and stalked towards me, his yellow teeth bared in a sinister grin.

There was nowhere for me to go, and I found myself pinned against the marble counter.

I gasped as he unfastened the button on his trousers with one hand and undid the zip. “Whores like you need to learn a lesson.”

Oh, no fucking way. Not again. My pulse raced; my knees buckled. I wouldn’t let this happen again.

I planted my feet, anticipating another push, but he made a grab for me. The thin strap holding up my dress snapped, and the fabric fell away, revealing my bare breast.

My mouth fell open as shock and indignation spread through me.

“Oh, you did not just do that. Do you know how much this dress cost?” I tried to cover myself, but he came at me again, and I needed both hands to fend off his attack.

“No doubt paid for with your whoring ways. Women like you make me sick. You flaunt yourselves with your tits hanging out. Dresses so tight I can see the outline of your pussy. You’re begging for attention, but when you get it, you don’t like it.”

He reached for me again with his pudgy hands, this time gripping my breast. I winced as he squeezed hard. Fuck, that hurt, and my heart hammered. This was too similar to a night from many years ago.

“Get your fucking hands off me.” I thrashed my arms, hitting out at him. “You bastard. You don’t get to touch me. No one touches me.”

He tried to fend me off, his black dress trousers now around his ankles. Baggy white Y-fronts did nothing to hide his arousal.

Saliva filled my mouth, and my stomach churned. God, what would come next? I’d vowed I’d never be in this position again. I lashed out, and this time, my sharp nails raked down his face. He yelled, clutching his cheek.

“You fucking bitch.” He came at me once more. Blood dripped between his fingers, staining his white beard.

I felt behind me for something, anything to protect me from his advances. I wrapped my fingers around a bottle and swung it in an arc, hitting him on the head.

He dropped like a stone, falling with a thud onto the tiled floor. The bottle clattered next to him.

Was he still breathing? Had I killed him? Did I care?

I stared at the lifeless body and nudged him with my foot. Nothing.

A knock on the door startled me out of my daze. For a moment, I’d forgotten where I was. This wasn’t like last time.

I was at Emmeline’s house. I was safe. I was safe.

I stepped over his body, relieved when he groaned. Not dead then. I placed my hand on my chest and took a few shallow breaths. I wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me weak.

The door swung open, and Emmeline stood in the doorway, her eyes full of concern.

“Is everything all right?” She looked past me as Benjamin groaned again, and her hand flew to her mouth. “What the hell happened?”

“He assaulted me,” I said, my voice calm, although I felt anything but.

“Oh, my poor dear. Are you okay? Here, cover yourself with this.” She draped a silk robe around my shoulders, hiding me from the people now gathered at the door.

“You assaulted me, you whore. Someone call the police. I want to press charges.” Benjamin sat up, his head in his hands, blood still dripping from the scrapes on his face.

“You sexually assaulted me, you bastard. I should be the one pressing charges, not you,” I shouted.

But he was a lord. I was an escort. Who would the police believe?

“Oh, be quiet and cover yourself up, Benjamin. I’m calling the police.” Emmeline pulled out her phone and dialled, all the while keeping her hand on my arm to comfort me.

Clement stood in the doorway, face white. “What in God’s name happened? What did you do, Naomi? You could have killed him.”

How was it my fault?

“He assaulted me, Clement. Don’t you care about that?” I slumped against the counter, weary from the events.

He shook his head and backed away, his hands in the air. “Don’t involve me in this. This is nothing to do with me.”

“Too fucking late, Clement. You brought me here, and when the police get involved, they’ll want to know why.”

Emmeline pulled me to her side, and I bit back a sob. At least someone cared.

“Hello? Police? There’s been an incident. An assault. No, no one is dead, but we have someone with a head injury.”

Benjamin was now dressed and held a flannel to his ashen face. The bleeding appeared to have stopped, but he didn’t look good. The veins in his neck pulsed rapidly, and while I knew it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d done anything to encourage him.

Don’t be fucking stupid, Naomi. You did nothing wrong. I’d gone over this with my therapist frequently, but self-doubt and irrationality crept in.

“Hey, Naomi.” Emmeline’s kind voice broke into my thoughts. “The police will be here soon. Let’s go to my bedroom. We can wait there.”

I walked on shaky legs, leaning on her for support. I hated this. Hated feeling weak, but shock had set in and the robe did little to stop the shivering.

She led me to the bed and patted my hand.

“Sit here, and I’ll get Elizabeth to make you some hot, sweet tea.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Please, Naomi. Humour an old lady. Now lie down. I’ll be back shortly.”

Reluctantly, I did as she suggested and curled into a ball as a steady stream of tears fell. I’d allow this time to reflect and come to terms with his assault, but I wouldn’t be a victim. Not again.