Chapter 12: Two at Once

Dominique carried the envelope to the bed and held it out to me without a word.

It was heavy cream paper, sealed with dark red wax.

I sat up in the sheets, naked, with Auguste's sweat still on my skin, and broke the seal.

The card inside was handwritten in black ink.

Eleven gentlemen request the company of Mademoiselle Rochefort at a private dinner, the last Saturday of the month, at a house in Sainte-Foy.

She will be the entertainment. The fee is ten thousand euros. Her protectors are welcome to attend.

I read it twice.

Ten thousand euros.

The air in the room had gone very still.

"Who knows about me?" I said.

"Someone who heard," said Auguste.

He had the card in his hand now.

"I know that handwriting. It belongs to a man I do business with."

"The host."

"The host. He is not a good man."

"Is he a dangerous one?"

"He is a rich one. In my world that is a different thing."

Auguste turned the card over and found nothing on the back.

"He wants a girl who will do it publicly. He has asked before. No girl ever said yes."

"I'll say yes."

"You haven't heard what it is."

"A table full of men," I said. "A girl at the center of it. Everything on my list, in front of an audience."

"I wrote it myself on page fourteen."

I had.

I had written it in smaller handwriting, in case no one ever read it.

Dominique sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand.

"You don't have to answer tonight," he said.

"I know."

"Armand and Léon should hear this."

"Yes." I looked at the card, at the black ink. "Tell them tomorrow. Tomorrow night they are both mine."

On Sunday I opened my door to Léon at seven and to Armand at seven fifteen.

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