Read Online Passion's Mistral by Charlotte Boyett-Compo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
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flick lint from her cotton skirt.
“Unless it is in the fantasy scenario, the helpers are not allowed to speak with the guests,” he said. “Since
you have opted not to participate in the pleasures offered at the Cay, the men will not answer any
questions you put to them so don’t bother trying.”
Silkie’s eyebrows shot up. “Not even Steve?” she inquired. “You know, the bellboy?”
Julian St. John’s eyes narrowed. “I know who the hell Steve is!”
“Since he and I have already spoken can’t I—?”
“Steven is not one of the helpers but if you would like to photograph his cock, feel free,” Julian snapped.
He got up from the chair. “If you want to question him about the size and shape and color of his prick, by
all means do so! I’m sure he’d love to tell you all about it!”
With that, the owner of Mistral Cay skirted the desk and strode angrily to the door, slamming the portal
shut behind him.
Silkie sat there for a moment, her head swiveled toward the closed door. She was stunned by both St.
John’s abrupt manner as well as the fury she had glimpsed in his molten glower. It was almost as though
he was exhibiting jealousy, male possessiveness, but since she did not know him, had never met him
before today, she knew that could not be the cause of his obvious anger. He certainly couldn’t be
enamored of her on such short acquaintance unless…
Unless Steve is his lover, she thought.
That notion didn’t set well with her and she slumped in the chair, considering it. There was far too much
maleness in Julian St. John to have it spoiled by learning he was gay.
Not that she had anything against gays, she thought. One of her best friends in college was gay and they
often met for lunch and a gab session when Paul was in town. Pondering her reaction to Julian’s possible
sexual orientation, she knew it was a purely female reaction not unlike the Father Whatashame ones of
her girlhood.
“Ohmygod!” she and the other girls at St. Ambrose College would say. “What a shame Fr. Bob is a
priest!”
What a shame she thought it would be if Julian St. John was gay.
“What a waste, too,” she muttered as she got to her feet.
“Give Steve Bertran a couple of weeks off,” Julian ordered Henri. “All expenses paid to Miami or L.A.
or wherever the fuck the little shit wants to go!”
Henri knew better than to ask why. He simply made a notation in the book he was never seen without.
“When would you like me to start sending helpers to Ms. Trevor?”
“You’ve picked a spot?” Julian snapped.
“As you suggested, it is within full view of the cabanas. I have provided a small tent and have had her
equipment set up.”
“Equipment never used before now,” Julian said with a snort.
“The price tags were still on two of the lenses.”
Another vicious snort came from Julian. “Did you place the call as I asked?” he demanded.
Henri sighed heavily. “Julian, don’t I always do as you ask?”
Julian ignored the question. “Have the helpers meet with me in about twenty minutes. If you need to pull
them from a scenario, do it.”
Such an order was outside the norm and Henri winced. “Julian, won’t that be impinging on the ladies’
entertainment? I mean—”
“Don’t argue with me, Bouvier! Just do it!”
Henri stiffened his posture. “As you wish.” He clicked his heels together, turned with military precision
and marched off, his back ramrod straight.
Julian ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the thick mane. He hated speaking to his best friend in
such a manner but his nerves were beginning to get the best of him.
As was an acute jealousy he had—until that day—never experienced.
“Steve Bertran won’t be showing you his wares, sweetness,” he swore as he shoved his hands into the
pockets of his black jeans.
Chapter Six
It wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. The first two sessions were clumsy attempts on her
part to be
“Unless it is in the fantasy scenario, the helpers are not allowed to speak with the guests,” he said. “Since
you have opted not to participate in the pleasures offered at the Cay, the men will not answer any
questions you put to them so don’t bother trying.”
Silkie’s eyebrows shot up. “Not even Steve?” she inquired. “You know, the bellboy?”
Julian St. John’s eyes narrowed. “I know who the hell Steve is!”
“Since he and I have already spoken can’t I—?”
“Steven is not one of the helpers but if you would like to photograph his cock, feel free,” Julian snapped.
He got up from the chair. “If you want to question him about the size and shape and color of his prick, by
all means do so! I’m sure he’d love to tell you all about it!”
With that, the owner of Mistral Cay skirted the desk and strode angrily to the door, slamming the portal
shut behind him.
Silkie sat there for a moment, her head swiveled toward the closed door. She was stunned by both St.
John’s abrupt manner as well as the fury she had glimpsed in his molten glower. It was almost as though
he was exhibiting jealousy, male possessiveness, but since she did not know him, had never met him
before today, she knew that could not be the cause of his obvious anger. He certainly couldn’t be
enamored of her on such short acquaintance unless…
Unless Steve is his lover, she thought.
That notion didn’t set well with her and she slumped in the chair, considering it. There was far too much
maleness in Julian St. John to have it spoiled by learning he was gay.
Not that she had anything against gays, she thought. One of her best friends in college was gay and they
often met for lunch and a gab session when Paul was in town. Pondering her reaction to Julian’s possible
sexual orientation, she knew it was a purely female reaction not unlike the Father Whatashame ones of
her girlhood.
“Ohmygod!” she and the other girls at St. Ambrose College would say. “What a shame Fr. Bob is a
priest!”
What a shame she thought it would be if Julian St. John was gay.
“What a waste, too,” she muttered as she got to her feet.
“Give Steve Bertran a couple of weeks off,” Julian ordered Henri. “All expenses paid to Miami or L.A.
or wherever the fuck the little shit wants to go!”
Henri knew better than to ask why. He simply made a notation in the book he was never seen without.
“When would you like me to start sending helpers to Ms. Trevor?”
“You’ve picked a spot?” Julian snapped.
“As you suggested, it is within full view of the cabanas. I have provided a small tent and have had her
equipment set up.”
“Equipment never used before now,” Julian said with a snort.
“The price tags were still on two of the lenses.”
Another vicious snort came from Julian. “Did you place the call as I asked?” he demanded.
Henri sighed heavily. “Julian, don’t I always do as you ask?”
Julian ignored the question. “Have the helpers meet with me in about twenty minutes. If you need to pull
them from a scenario, do it.”
Such an order was outside the norm and Henri winced. “Julian, won’t that be impinging on the ladies’
entertainment? I mean—”
“Don’t argue with me, Bouvier! Just do it!”
Henri stiffened his posture. “As you wish.” He clicked his heels together, turned with military precision
and marched off, his back ramrod straight.
Julian ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the thick mane. He hated speaking to his best friend in
such a manner but his nerves were beginning to get the best of him.
As was an acute jealousy he had—until that day—never experienced.
“Steve Bertran won’t be showing you his wares, sweetness,” he swore as he shoved his hands into the
pockets of his black jeans.
Chapter Six
It wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. The first two sessions were clumsy attempts on her
part to be
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