Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Pickup
Kate took a deep sip of her gin and tonic as she anxiously drummed her fingers on the sticky wooden bar top of her neighborhood watering hole. Edwina was supposed to be meeting her for a drink, but her sister had yet to show. Kate furrowed her brow as she waited, hoping Edwina’s reason for being late was innocuous and not a result of her sweet, innocent sister meeting with danger in their slightly seedy area of London.
Just as Kate was checking her phone for the third time that minute, it buzzed in her hand, positively startling her. She blew out a relieved breath as she read the text.
Eddie: Didi, I’m so sorry! The time ran away from me. When the volunteer training ended, it turned into a bunch of us getting dinner and I didn’t want to miss out on the bonding. I figured I better get to know the people I’ll be spending the next week with! ☺️
The text was accompanied by a silly selfie Edwina had sent of herself and a few of what Kate guessed were her fellow volunteers. They looked young and carefree and Kate was relieved that her baby sister was getting along with her peers.
Kate responded with a heart reaction, and then quickly shot off a reply.
Kate: Bon, don’t worry. I’m glad you’re making friends. They love you already, I’m sure. Be safe, and I’m sure I’ll see you later tonight. You still heading to Mum’s for the weekend? She still good to take you to the train station Monday morning?
Eddie: Yep. She said she’ll drop me by on the way to work. No need for you to have to get up early for no reason. I know you’re not much of an early bird 😉. Now stay and have a drink…maybe you’ll meet someone and I won’t see you til the morning!
Kate: har har
Kate slipped her phone back into her pocket and took another sip of her drink, mulling over her sister’s plans for the next week. Even though Kate, ever protective, had initially balked at Edwina traveling to Paris with a bunch of other recent college graduates to volunteer at an inner-city school for displaced refugees, she had finally adjusted to the idea and was quite proud of Edwina’s kind heart and brave spirit. Their dad would have been over the moon with his youngest daughter, Mary was constantly reminding them. She always included Kate in that sentiment, but Kate knew that couldn’t be right. She was barely hanging on as a starving artist-cum-maths tutor-cum-house sitter-cum-dog walker-cum…well, pretty much anything that made a dent in the bills and allowed her sister to focus on her studies and humanitarian passions instead of the part-time jobs that Kate was constantly juggling.
At this thought, Kate sighed heavily and gestured for the barkeep to bring her the check. This is the last thing I should be spending money on. Blasted landlord has already left me three angry messages. As she threw money down on the counter, Kate absently pulled up the email she’d been reading and rereading all day.
Subject: Application Accepted – Sweet Escapes
Kathani,
Thank you for your recent application to Sweet Escapes, London’s premier website for connecting Sugar Daddies with Sugar Babies. Your file (headshots and video interview, background check, and medical documents) were reviewed and approved, and we look forward to you setting up your profile. Please remember that Sweet Escape’s top priority is the safety and discretion of our participants, so we appreciate you reviewing the guidelines below…
Kate huffed and put away her phone as she got up from the bar. She’d applied to the site on the recommendation of an art school colleague. It had been a moment of desperation last month, once again struggling to come up with rent for her and Edwina’s tiny two bedroom flat in the rough and tumble East End. She figured it was just another part-time money-maker in what has become her gig-economy lifestyle. And she’d appreciated the ego boost when her friend Bridget had told her that she’d “pull so many horny millionaires.” Apparently, Kate’s exotic dark skin and eyes, voluminous curls, and long, toned legs would catch the eye of many a Sugar Daddy.
Kate just hadn’t decided if it was right for her. She wasn’t against the sex, if it came to that. Kate believed sex work was work, and she figured if she got paid for her talents with the canvas or her maths GCSE prep lessons, was it so different to get paid to do something she enjoyed for free? She just didn’t want to enter into something that could one day involve her heart, that could hurt her feelings, or the feelings of her family. Feelings were messy, and Kate already had enough mess in her life.
As Kate walked out of the bar, someone bumped into her, spilling their vodka soda all over her loose button down. Kate shrieked as the cold liquid immediately seeped through her cotton shirt, and she quickly pulled it away from the tank underneath to keep at least one layer dry.
“Oy, sorry mate,” slurred the drunk man as he stumbled past her to the bar. Kate rolled her eyes angrily, but proceeded out into the warm London night. Thankfully it was still nice out, though the sun was going down, so Kate quickly removed her soiled top layer and threw it in her bag. Unfortunately, it just left her in a tiny white tank top and her well-loved jean shorts. At least she had her suede ankle boots to keep her…well, ankles warm if it got cool.
Kate walked to the corner where the local bus would come to pick her up, dropping her a few stops later outside her dingy apartment block. She waited there a few minutes, silently staring out at the London skyline, her mind wandering back to that email on her phone.
Thirty minutes prior:
Anthony muttered angrily under his breath as his late father’s lawyer, Nigel Berbrook, held court with a group of similarly pompous assholes. What the fuck was this party even for? Anthony thought once more, looking around the grand home of some uber-rich real estate tycoon. Anthony should feel completely comfortable being at a place like this, surrounded by London’s elite, but he was barely containing his frustration. He hated Berbrook, but out of respect for his father, kept him on the payroll and acquiesced to some of Nigel’s requests, like attending this event.
“There are people here you must meet, Lord Bridgerton,” Nigel had droned as they got out of his McLaren and he threw the keys at the valet. “If you insist on spending all your time in Kent, only coming to London a few weeks a year, I feel compelled to introduce you to some of the most important business contacts in London when you do grace us with your presence.”
Anthony had ground his teeth in lieu of a reply. Berbrook, though absolutely grating to Anthony and most of the Bridgerton children, had a slew of well-respected and well-connected clients and friends that would in the end be good contacts for Anthony, especially as he struggled to run Bridgerton Enterprises in the wake of his father’s death. Though it had been almost ten years since his passing, Anthony had only recently taken control over the day to day operations once his Aunt Billie, interim CEO, had retired a few years prior.
And this next week was especially important for Bridgerton Enterprises; it was the culmination of nearly six months of research, planning, and proposals to purchase Featherington Incorporated. Having grown up rubbing elbows with the Featherington family and knowing that their family business faced a dire fate after the mismanagement and subsequent incarceration of Lord Featherington himself, Bridgerton Enterprises’ board, with Berbrook as a loud spokesperson, was eager to acquire the company and hack it into pieces before selling the portions off to the highest bidders.
But now, as he took a light sip of his whiskey ginger, Anthony wanted to be anywhere else than around this crowd. He had suffered through a long week, balancing work from Aubrey Hall, playing part time parent to his seven younger siblings, and engaging in frequent arguments with his mother Violet Bridgerton as she harangued him about various topics--to listen to the board, have patience with Berbrook, talk Colin out of yet another international tour, pry information out of Frannie about her secret boyfriend, and the list went on.
He had actually been glad to escape to London for the weekend, where he would ensconce himself in the penthouse of the Mondritch Hotel and spend the weekend trying to relax before a stressful week of trying to fill his father’s oversized shoes.
But after Berbrook’s fourth semi-sexist joke and the subsequent laughter from his cronies, Anthony had enough. He walked out of the party without a word and asked the valet to pull Berbrook’s car around. Not one to question an authoritative man in a thousand-pound suit, even without a valet ticket, the man immediately ran to fetch the car.
Anthony slid into the bucket seat, smirking to himself as he pictured Berbrook’s reaction when he realized Anthony had stolen…no, borrowed…his prized car. What would he do? Nothing. Not when it was Viscount Bridgerton, CEO to a multi-million pound corporation, and Berbrook’s firm’s best client, who had been the one doing the “borrowing.”
As Anthony hit the gas, he laughed to himself, feeling free for the first time in…too long. He didn’t bother pay attention to his destination, choosing instead to enjoy the smooth ride and the beauty of the London city lights flickering on in the darkening night.
But soon the novelty wore off and Anthony realized he was in an unfamiliar neighborhood, not having paid much attention to where he’d come from or even where he was going. To compound matters, as he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, he realized it was dead. He remembered that he’d drained the last of the battery Facetiming earlier with Hyacinth as she energetically recounted her birthday party plans to him.
Anthony pulled up at a red light and cursed, pissed at himself for being so stupid. When he visited London, he never even bothered to drive, instead using hired car services for all his needs. Come to think of it, he hadn’t driven in London since he was a teenager, and he definitely had never been in this neighborhood before.
As he waited for the light to change, Anthony took in his surroundings. His gaze immediately froze as he saw beautiful woman leaning against a bus stop terminal. Her dark skin stood out against her tiny jean shorts and tight white tank top. His stomach swooped as he took note of her long dark curls swirling around her sharp, gorgeous features. Fuck me.
It dawned on Anthony slowly, as he contrasted the image of her with the less than savory neighborhood, that he was staring at a prostitute. Anthony was no stranger to “women of the night;” like most of his classmates, he had indulged in a few dalliances during his time at Oxford. After university he had explored the diversion a couple more times, solely seeking sex with absolutely no emotional attachment.
For no other reason than sheer necessity, Anthony promised himself, he found himself pulling up to the bus stop as soon as the light turned green. The rational side of his brain figured that the woman might know her way out of the area.
Anthony rolled down his window.
“Excuse me,” he called out, and the woman glanced at him, her eyes widening at being addressed before darting away as if she was determined to ignore his presence. Certainly not the reaction he expected from someone standing on the street waiting for prospective clients, but he forged ahead.
“I’m a little lost and could use some help getting to Mayfair. You don’t happen to know the area, do you?”
The woman turned back to him, taking in the ostentatious, his expensive watch on display as he gripped the wheel, and the mention of Mayfair. But instead of the expected appreciation at the obvious signs of wealth, she rolled her eyes at him.
“Poor little rich boy forgotten how to drive himself around? Where’s your driver?” she said dryly, inexplicably hitting the nail on the head.
Anthony narrowed his eyes at her gall. Surely this wasn’t the attitude she utilized to procure customers. Then it dawned on him. Maybe that’s what her problem is. I’m here asking for directions, when she is out here looking for paying customers. Anthony switched tack, doing his best to ooze charm.
“Look, I am trying to get back to the Mondritch Hotel in Mayfair. Do you know how to get there?”
The woman raised her eyebrows at the hotel’s name. She leaned in toward the open window, and Anthony couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of her cleavage in the waning light. He flicked his eyes back upwards but based on her glare, she’d caught him peeking.
“Don’t you have a phone? To Google it? Or call your chauffeur?”
He clenched his teeth and shook his head once. She sighed heavily.
“Got a pen? Paper? I don’t exactly have my cartography tools on me.”
Anthony couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, despite her unhelpful commentary. He opened the glove box, but embarrassingly, found only a couple of loose condoms and a nondescript baggy of little pills. He snapped it shut quickly, his ears burning at the woman’s judgmental stare.
“Erm, this is not my car. It’s my…associates. No pen or paper.”
Anthony sighed and looked pleadingly at her.
“Look, can you show me the way? I’ll um…I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your time.”
She furrowed her brow at this, and then leaned back and glanced at the sign on the bus stop as if reading something. After a moment of chewing her lip and staring intently at him, Anthony saw what seemed to be a decision flash in her eyes. She nodded, stepped back for a moment and fiddled with her phone, and then she was sliding into the car in cloud of sweet lily perfume.
Before Anthony could even ask her name, she was immediately instructing him in an authoritative voice.
“Go straight here, and take a left at the next light.”
Anthony did as she directed, merging into traffic.
“FYI I took a picture of your license plate and texted it to my friend. I let her know I was taking you to the Mondritch. Sorry to dash your kidnapping plans.”
Anthony laughed at this, surprised by her caustic tone paired with her wry humor.
“I promise. No kidnapping plans. I just want to get back to my hotel and relax. It’s been a long week.”
She said nothing at this but gestured for him to take a right. After a few quiet minutes of terse directions, Anthony began to see familiar store fronts and business names and realized they were entering Mayfair. Soon enough Anthony was pulling into the familiar circular drive of the Mondritch Hotel, a valet and a doorman hurrying up to the car to let the woman out and get the keys from Anthony.
“Welcome back to the Mondritch, Viscount Bridgerton.”
Anthony nodded and slipped the man a fifty pound note as he unfolded from the car. The valet jumped in and sped the car down the drive to…well, wherever valets put your car when you weren’t using it. Anthony wasn’t quite sure where that was. He glanced back at his guide; it was just the two of them standing under the awning staring at one another. Anthony took her in, glowing golden under the ethereal lighting of the high-end hotel. She was strikingly beautiful, despite standing out like a sore thumb against the luxury setting, what with her tiny shirts and tank top and a large purse slung over her shoulder. He ran his eyes appreciatively over her slim, strong arms, which were highlighted delectably when crossed them huffily as she took in the hotel’s entryway with a look of derision.
“Quite the digs, my lord,” she said with a snort.
Anthony smirked in reply. No use in disputing the truth. The Mondritch was the nicest hotel in London, and Anthony always stayed in the penthouse whenever he came to London for work.
“I wasn’t going to make you pay me for my time, but after learning you are literal nobility, I’d say you can afford a few quid for my services.”
At the mention of services, Anthony’s eyes darkened. It was hardly discreet, discussing this in the entrance of a high-profile London hotel, but he figured he’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity for a casual fuck that fell right into his lap.
“I’m happy to compensate you, Ms.…”
“Kate,” she said curtly, purposefully leaving off her surname.
“I’m happy to compensate you, Kate, but I’m afraid I just dispensed with my last cash. Why don’t we head inside, and I’ll buy you drink at the bar…to start? Then I’m sure we can come to an agreement that suits us both.”