Part 1
Chapter 1
Peripheral
For almost ten years, Le Château had kept to itself up in the mountains, content to be a haven for the kind of above-board parties that its members found safer to enjoyhere.And for ten years, Monica Warren had carved herself a healthy living that she was proud of.
Ten years later…She sat in a meeting with her tax advisers, speechless.
“You’re sure about this?” The papers were in front of her. Some were not so official but emailed in confidence to Lysa Fischer, the head of Monica’s tax team. She had contacts within the IRS, and part of paying for some of the best in New England was having access tothis.
“Yes. This agent has never led me astray, Mrs. Warren.”
Monica pushed the paper aside and looked at her phone. At her small conference table, where she had a hundred monthly meetings with these people over the past decade, she alwaysoffered hot drinks and snacks. After all, they often traveled at least two hours from the city to speak with her in person. Many had toured her Château’s grounds to see for themselves that it wasnota “brothel.” Something they had gone to bat for her over with the IRS.
“Fuck.”
Her team averted their gazes as she succumbed to the worries that had been mounting in her head.I’m being investigated. It can’t be happening.Lysa’s IRS confidant had passed along to her that the premier client, Monica Warren of Le Château, was being quietly investigated for supposed missing funds and for running a brothel.Again.
Which was absurd. Monica played so hard by the book that she undoubtedly paid more to the US government than she was legally obliged to, but she saw it as padding her protection. This was the same woman who was careful to not look like she was paying bribes to the local government. The county was more than happy to have her taxes and look the other way, but the state? They would take her political donations every election cycle, but no longer did that offer some layer of protection if she kept her nose down.
“This is not a brothel,” she asserted to the team who already knew that. “This is a home of live-in escorts who are paid to spend their time with happy clients.Shouldsex occur, it’s done completely consensually and is not part of a package. Do they think I’m stupid?”
Lysa offered a sympathetic look but was inclined to say, “Sex work of any kind is a difficult game right now. More than usual. You’ve said yourself that your core employees herearesex workers.”
“Yes, in confidence, to you!”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Warren, but your clients call you ‘madam’ and your employees ‘the girls.’ Colloquially speaking, we all know what that means.”
“They are contracted employees who are given room and board in exchange for a cut of what they make with every client, never mind their patrons. As you know, we charge a pretty penny. More than enough to have made me a millionaire several times over. AndIpay my personal taxes just as regularly as I pay my corporate taxes!”
“There was the issue of one of your 1099 employees not paying theirs…”
“Which was not my issue. It only looked like it because this was their permanent address.” That had been a nightmare and had led to her long-time employee Yvette being let go from the Château.If you’re bringing IRS agents in here to investigate you, it could lead to bad things for the rest of us.Last Monica heard Yvette was high-end escorting in New York City. One of the places where Monica had scouted her and still scouted some of her live-in talent. Most of the women who came to work for her wanted steadier pay with known clients and a bigger price tag to charge. They set their boundaries while Monica played matchmaker. Was there often sex on the weekend nights? Of course. But on paper, it wasn’t paid for.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Warren,” Lysa apologized. “We’re on it, but don’t be surprised if we’re in contact with you again soon.”
Her heart thundered in her chest as she escorted her tax team out of the Château and returned to the second floor. She was supposed to be preparing to head home to the city, but she found her head cleared quicker if she indulged in a view of the hedge maze behind the large house.
“Didn’t go well, I take it.”
She didn’t have to turn around to recognize Judith, her number two who had retired from taking on new clients butstill ran the place in Monica’s absence. She had arrived from the city to take over for Monica.We never stop working, do we?Not without plenty of notice. Monica considered herself a family woman, but her sprawling empire was continuing to grow, and her weeknights were often consumed with more work. Judith took the edge off, of course, but Monica wondered when she would want more. When they’d both want to slow down for a while.I’m not as young as I used to be.Neither was Judith, whose crow’s feet and a hint of gray hair only made her more in demand with clients who couldn’t have her anymore.She loves it.The woman had two boyfriends and lived with one in the city when she was there, but everyone involved knew she plied her trade with anyone breathing and willing.
“We’re being investigated by the IRS,” Monica said to the woman standing next to her. “Don’t tell anyone else.”
Judith curtly nodded. “Just the Château? Or is the Salon also under investigation?” She referred to the lounge they co-ran in the city.
“Just the Château. They believe we are not paying enough while also running a brothel.”
“Of course they are. Well, they’re welcome to sniff around and…”
A loud moan echoed down the hallway. Such sounds were like white noise, even on a Monday afternoon, but the timing couldn’t be worse.
“Sierra, I presume?”
“Her regular Monday appointment, yes.”
“The only one who works on Mondays.”
