There were a few rules that Katherine Beckett had when it came to working the business of being a high-end call girl, rules that she never bent in order to keep her private life anonymous and to prevent clients from stalking her, a cause for concern for most of the girls in the business. Firstly, never, ever use your real name when dealing with clients; she'd chosen Katerina as her alter ego, because not only did middle-aged, portly men have a taste for women with exotic names and slight accents-taken from learning Russian during a semester in college-but because it was also fairly close to her true name, which would make it easier for her to react when they called her. Second, she only agreed to meet clients at high-priced hotels that had a plethora of working security cameras placed at every hallway corner and doorway. Too many girls had been raped and murdered due to not doing their homework and finding relatively safe meeting points to meet their clients at. And third, as long as she was in this business, there would be absolutely no relationships in her private life. Most men only wanted a call girl around when they had needs to be filled, but when it's your girlfriend or wife giving lap dances among other things to other men? It made it easier for her to not be involved with anyone outside of clients, drinks with the girls every other weekend and the occasional one-night stand.
With these rules, she'd managed to stay in the business for a decade and keep up her quota of ten clients a week. A low number, to be sure, when compared to other girls lower down on the step-ladder, but she charged a hefty price and hell, she was worth it. She looked damn good with her long legs that men just loved to stare at, her toned midsection and her well-endowed chest. Kate pulled in the profits and as such, got to pick who and what she worked.
And that included accompanying middle-aged, lonely bachelors as their companion of the night to all sorts of parties and functions. Her job for tonight was to accompany the millionaire novelist Richard Castle to a political function for his good friend who was running for Mayor of New York City, she'd be paid $10,000 dollars to be his date, and $2,500 for every following hour after the party ended, not that she was expecting to spend the night with Castle. He was a notorious playboy, infamous for having a different woman appear on his arm to every political and entertainment function and they all had one thing in common: they never lasted after that one night. Who was she to all of those actresses and models that made him look good? She was nothing more than a fancy prostitute who dressed a bit nicer than the other girls and had-she'd like to think-more class than they did, but what did that matter? He knew who she really was, what she really was, and in her experience, prostitutes did not come out of relationships -affairs-with millionaires rosy.
As a teenager, she'd been in love with the books he wrote, the stories that made sense when her home life was falling apart at the seams; her mother had been murdered in an armed robbery gone wrong at a convenience store, and her father had fallen into a bottle and never came out even now. They hadn't spoken in nearly nine years. Kate reminded him too much of her mother, and he couldn't even look at her without reaching for a bottle of Jack Daniel's; she'd been left to suffer the overwhelming burden of the student loan debts from the one year she'd completed at Stanford, and one thing lead to another, and here she was: a high-end prostitute with no friends or family to speak of, save for the collection of Richard Castle books on her bookshelf, all signed. And she was foolish for hoping he might remember who she was and not think less of her for doing what she did.
Luckily for Richard Castle, Kate's work phone rang, pulling her from her musings on how she would react around the mystery author, none of which seemed to be going well for either of them.
"Hello?" She didn't bother to sound sugary and sweet, as she would for a client; Vicky didn't give a damn how her girls acted towards her, so long as they made money and never withheld Vicky's shares of the profits.
"Are you ready for him?"
Ah, straight to the point, as usual.
"Just about," Kate lied, leaning her cheek against the phone as she stepped over to her armoire and opened the doors. Filled with glittering dresses, pair upon pair of stiletto high-heeled shoes and a small fortune in purses and clutches, it was almost enough to make Kate believe that she could put on one of these gowns and become someone else. The flowing emerald green dress with a sheer length of fabric running across her back could belong to a wealthy woman putting on a fundraiser for an addition to a museum. Or perhaps the sapphire blue gown that had a knee-high slit up the side of her leg could belong to a politician championing for the aid of college students and why there weren't more college students who could turn the country's future around.
But it wasn't meant to be, not for her.
"Well, hurry up! You have to be in front of the American Museum of Natural History by 8 p.m. and Mr. Castle's agent will meet you at the entrance and escort you over to Mr. Castle's vehicle." Vicky recited, reading off the details of the date from her laptop no doubt. Vicky may be one of the best madams in all of New York, but her memory was like Swiss Cheese: full of holes.
"Uh-huh, okay, and remind me why there's so much secrecy? Doesn't he know that I'm his companion tonight?" Oh, maybe this tight little red dress with matching heels would mesmerize Richard Castle and get a little more money for her. After all, she might be just a prostitute, but she had bigger dreams than all of this. She was saving up for something bigger than clients and "dates".
"Yes, but his agent would prefer if you two showed up and left separately for some reason, she didn't say."
"Fine by me," Kate said, pulling out a floor-length, shimmering golden dress that hugged her curves and showed off her chest in a modest fashion; perfect for a political party amongst New York's elite. Sweeping her hand down the length of the dress to brush off any lingering dust, she laid it down on her bed. It looked too beautiful to be sitting in her modest apartment. "It's not like I want to be Richard Castle's rumored new girlfriend on Page Six."
A burst of laughter emitted from the other line. "You're too much sometimes, Becks. I never know when you're serious or not. Whatever the papers happen to say, just remember that you have absolutely no connection with a client once the job is done. None of them would ever dare to be seen with us outside of whatever it is they hired us for. So don't let yourself think otherwise. We're nothing to them."
As if she needed Vicky to remind her of that. She thought about it every day of her life. "I got it, Vicky. I'm just there for a job, nothing more."
"Good girl, Becks. Now go make some money."
Kate turned off her phone, tossed it on the bed and sighed. Is that all she was really meant for? Just to make some money for people who didn't care what happened to her, who didn't care about her past? Well, at least Richard Castle was paying to care tonight. If it was one thing she could count on, it was the clients' ability to pretend that they cared about the girls they hired. And besides that, they'd have plenty of alcohol there, so at least she'd be buzzed enough to not care herself for awhile.
An hour later, she found herself gingerly stepping out of the cab a few feet away from the throng of people crowding to make their way up the steps into the museum. Kate had to admit, this seemed like a pretty fabulous life to live, if you didn't look through the thin veil and see the petty and dishonest natures of many of the attendants tonight. Still, the glamour was enough to draw anyone in. Oh, she had to pull herself together and not act like a star-struck teenager.
No one clamoured to take a picture of her or get an interview, which she was grateful for, but was attributed to the fact that to reporters, she was a nameless, faceless nobody who sometimes accompanied powerful men to parties and benefits.
"Katerina!" She turned at the sound of her alias being called to see a tall, statuette brunette walking fast towards her in sweeping skirts of crimson and four-inch heels. Paula, Richard Castle's agent, seemed to be just Castle's type; tall, curvaceous, with eyes of dark chocolate brown, it was almost a wonder that she had been chosen to accompany Castle.
"Yes?" She said, applying the right amount of a Russian accent to her voice without distorting her words to the point of incomprehension.
"Oh, thank goodness, Richard has been getting antsy, and when he gets antsy, it's like you can't even control him. But don't worry, I told him to be on his best behavior, even though I'm sure you're used to much more...inappropriate behavior than Richard can throw out." Paula said with a fake smile. She obviously disliked the idea of hiring a companion for her author client, but didn't care enough to offer herself up for sacrifice.
"Yes, yes, I have seen much."
"I'm...sure you have, now come along and you'll meet Richard." Paula took Kate's elbow and lead her past the crowd, eyes focused straight ahead on a stretch limo that presumably, Richard Castle was sitting inside. Kate tried to still her racing heart without letting Paula know, but just before they reached the limo, Paula jerked to a stop and whirled around to look Kate in the eyes. "I don't know how your dates usually go, but let me inform you of something: Richard Castle might be hiring your company for the evening, but you are not going home with him. He has other, more important things in his life, and you will never be one of them. Got it?"
Stunned, Kate nodded mutely; inside she burned with contained fury at the gall of this woman. How dare she presume to know what Kate was thinking, what she was feeling? Sure, she was a huge fan of the man and his books, but she wasn't so delusional to think that she'd ever be like Julia Roberts and marry the prickly rich man. No, those were fairytales. Once Paula was satisfied that she'd gotten her point through, she turned and lead Kate over to the limo; she tapped on the window, and several seconds later, Castle emerged from the limo and stole Kate's breath. He was tall, well-built and looked good in his tuxedo; his rich brown hair was fashionably styled just so, his baby blue eyes twinkled with mischief and a warm smile played along his lips. He was every bit the handsome man she'd seen on the back of book jackets.
"Rick, this is Katerina, your date for the evening. Katerina," Paula said, looking pointedly at Kate. "This is Mister Richard Castle."
"Hello, Katerina," Castle said, reaching out to take Kate's hand and place a kiss on her knuckles. He was well-practiced in the art of flirting. "How are you?"
"Very well, Mr. Castle," She said, doing a small bow of the head. Manners and respect went far with these high-class men. "Thank you so much for inviting me."
"Oh, it was nothing," He waved it off. "Paula arranged the whole thing. Now, shall we head inside?" He held out his arm, nearly causing her heart to skip a beat. She took his arm silently and gave a small smile.
"I'd be delighted, Mr. Castle."
"Rick, call me Rick." He said, waving casually to acquaintances and...wait a minute...was that Johnny Depp? No, it couldn't be.
"Is Mr. Castle your father?" She teased, expecting that playful attitude to hurl another quip back at her without hesitation; instead, she saw a shadow flick over the strong features of his face, and a muscle in his jaw clenched. "Oh, I'm sorry if I pried. Forgive me, sir." She hurriedly apologized, barely able to keep her accent in place. This man unnerved her more than she cared to admit.
"No, no, it's perfectly fine." He said, slightly less jovial than he'd been just moments ago. "I don't speak about my father, or my family in public. My public persona doesn't include them, and I'm sure your madam told you about that, didn't she?"
"Yes, she did." Well, Kate certainly felt chastised by Richard Castle. How was she supposed to know that such a harmless joke would cause such a dramatic change in him? Most clients were flattered when she brought out that line, all of them, except for Castle. She supposed that every person was entitled to set boundaries and lines that couldn't be crossed, and she'd simply overstepped that boundary. Lesson learned.
She and Castle walked along the maroon carpet slowly and silently, lined with velvet ropes and reporters and paparazzi clamoring for photographs and shouting questions. Socialites posed their gowns just so, giving the cameras a coy smile over their shoulder, and powerful politicians shook hands with the tamer reporters, flashing brilliant smiles all the while. Kate was dazzled by the wealth and power exuding out from all angles, and it took every bit of training she'd gone through to maintain a smile that didn't attract too much attention, but kept enough on her so the reporters would focus on Castle. With every delicate step she took, Kate told herself to keep it together, that this was the worst part of the evening. Mingling with the guests and drawing on her large inventory of what lines to use and what lines not to use was what she'd been trained to do. Saying just the right thing at just the right time made more money for Vicky, the service and Kate herself, so saying the wrong lines could cost her.
That, and she didn't feel like ruining the evening for Castle even further.
Well, this was certainly turning out to be quite an interesting evening, Rick Castle mused to himself, glancing at the beautiful companion Paula had hired for him for the night. She was tall, graceful and effortlessly beautiful in a golden gown that set off the highlights in her hair and complimented her sun-kissed skin, and save for a minor bump, had the best manners of any escort he'd ever seen at a political function. And boy, had he seen a lot of escorts adorning the arms of the rich and powerful politicians and benefactors.
When Paula had called him earlier that week to discuss who he was bringing along as his date, Rick had thrown out the comment that of course, his mother would be accompanying him. She just loved to dress up and show off for the patrons with her whimsical demeanor and recitation of various plays; Paula scoffed and ridiculed him for even thinking of the idea. Martha Rodgers was far too old and far too unpredictable to be his date, she said, he should be looking for a beautiful, young woman who was faceless and nameless to the press-Martha had some infamy, though he'd never admit to it-and wouldn't mind disappearing from his life the moment the party was over. His pride had been bruised a little when she'd suggested a high-class escort service that specialized in being the perfect companion at political functions. Naturally, he'd refused to consider hiring a woman to be his date; after all, who wouldn't want to cling to his arm and be in the spotlight for five minutes with him? Her response:
"Rick, you're delusional. You're a semi-famous author of mystery novels, and besides that, it's not like you're even that appealing to younger women. They want Chris Evans or Johnny Depp, not Richard Castle. So you either have a choice: don't go to the function and suffer through book sales losses or hire some nobody prostitute who looks good in a dress and go. It's your choice."
"Paula, why do I have to hire a woman to be my date? Why can't I just take...Alexis?" He threw out his daughter's name, desperately hoping that her Swiss-Cheese memory had managed to forget who Alexis was.
"Damn it, Rick, you can't bring a fifteen-year-old girl to a political function! Do you not want to keep some anonymity in your life? For your daughter's sake, at least, think before you speak. I swear, it's like I'm dealing with a child here. Don't worry yourself with this. I'll hire a nice girl with a brain-because I know how much you hate a busty, boring date-and that's that. I'll call with the details later."
He'd have to thank Paula for taking the decision-making out of his hands-again-and picking out a great girl for him. She glided through the crowd with ease, smiling daintily at this politician or that famous movie actress who starred on a short-lived television program a few years back. Rick was amazed at Katerina's ability to appear as a woman who belonged at parties like this, who should be a woman out changing the world, instead of what she actually was. And this time, when they were drawn in opposite directions, as it happens so often during these events, he found himself looking back towards his date.
"Ricky!" Gina, he mentally groaned at the sound of his ex-wife's voice; their divorce had only been finalized for three months, and despite their solid working relationship, he was still hesitant about interacting in public. Gina, oh Gina, she was an independent, powerful businesswoman and incredibly strong-willed when it came to professional and personal matters, and it sometimes seemed to Rick as though she could hardly differentiate between the two. Their marriage had been hot and heavy, filled with insatiable passion at the beginning, but over time, too much of Gina's "work" attitude and Rick's "childishness" had bled into that, too. He never blamed her for any of it, no more than he blamed himself.
Still, it was an awkward feeling that shot up his spine.
"Gina!" He plastered on a beaming, toothy smile and turned around to see Gina walking toward him in five-inch heels and ebony silk, leading a uniformed police officer and another man towards him. One was the Police Commissioner, a stern-faced, by-the-book man with little liking for politicians and the constant barrage of red-tape he was forced to endure-an off-the-record remark by Bob during one of his monthly poker games. "Commissioner! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Mr. Castle, I see you've managed to keep yourself out trouble this year."
Ah, and there was that former IA sense of humor he loved so much. "Yes, sir, I have. My daughter wouldn't allow me to sully her reputation in her first year of high school."
"Rick, the Commissioner just wanted to come over to make sure that we-meaning you-don't plan to pull any stunts in order to come up with a new Storm book." Gina explained, clearly perturbed at being included in any of his stunts he'd done in the past to spark some inspiration. It was difficult to come up with good, solid ideas when his actress mother was always lauding about this author or that author, insinuating that his ideas just weren't good enough.
"You don't have to worry about me, Commissioner. My daughter and my lovely date for the occasion this evening," He said, motioning towards Katerina, who was the belle of the ball amongst the more literary of the gathering. "Wouldn't allow me to make a fool of myself."
Commissioner Sherman's mouth twisted into a sour scowl. "You would bring such a woman to an event such as this? Have you no shame at all, Mr. Castle? Is it your goal to sully Robert Weldon's chances for the mayorship?"
Rick stiffened in response.
"You may be able to play at being a gentleman, you may be able to fool everyone else in this room into thinking you're something that you're not, but not me. I know you, Mr. Castle, and all you are is a little ruffian playing at being a man."
With that final statement said in close proximity to Rick's face, Sherman turned sharply on his heel and strode off in the direction of the open bar.
Gina huffed in exasperation. "So much for that being good press for you."
"I'm sorry, Gina." He said without meaning it. What could he be sorry for that he hadn't already apologized for thousands of times before?
"Oh please, Rick, for once you didn't do anything wrong. The Commissioner's just ticked that Mr. Weldon has plans to oust him and introduce a more public-friendly face into the office."
He chuckled at that. Oh, the irony of a grown man making comments about being childish when he himself was pouting like a child. Gina caught it and smacked his shoulder.
"Don't push him, Rick. He's still in office, still in power, and that makes him a dangerous man to cross, especially if he decides that all those stunts you pulled are still within the statute of limitation. Get her out of here and go somewhere, anywhere. Bring her back, or sleep with her, I don't care. Just don't push him anymore tonight, all right? I have to talk to some more people, so I'll see you later at the meeting. Don't miss it!" She called over her shoulder as she walked away, sporting a rare grin that let Rick know he wasn't in too much trouble, at least with Gina.
Now all he had to do was explain the situation to Katerina, but how?
The party was certainly livening up to be one of her more memorable soirees that she'd attended as a date, what with socialites sneaking off to the storage closets with the help, older ladies filling up their smooth-necked wine glasses repeatedly during the course of the evening, and of course, the Police Commissioner's little meltdown with Richard Castle. She watched that particular disaster with a careful eye, wondering when would be the right time to step in and charm the Commissioner into leaving Castle alone, but then his body language changed drastically. There was something more going on between the two men than a disagreement over politics or whether the caviar seemed a bit spoiled.
Once the encounter seemed to be over and Sherman strode off to drink his floundering career into darkness, she carefully made her way over to Castle, keeping the simmering Commissioner in the corner of her eye.
He seemed to be eyeing her quite pointedly as well. Most likely he'd try to ruin her life in some way, shape or form to make a point. He was never very good at being honest, especially when it came to encountering people that he didn't want intruding into his soon-to-be former circle.
She'd have to talk to Vicky about him, just to be on the safe side. In the meantime, she slid a hand onto Castle's shoulder and whispered "Everything okay?" into his ear. Castle startled before seeing who she was and sighed heavily through his nose.
"Yeah, just some mental bruises from Sherman's tirade." Castle pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away whatever headache was surely coming on, Kate suspected.
"Anything I should be worried about?" She asked, wondering if he would be one of the honest ones she saw so rarely in her line of work.
"If you're worried about Sherman exposing your profession, then yes, you should be."
Kate straightened, fixing Castle with a firm look. "I'm not concerned about being exposed, but you should be concerned about your reputation if he ever decides to expose me. Authors aren't exempt from their careers suffering permanently. You won't be easily forgiven by anyone for stooping so low as to hire me for the evening, despite the fact that you had no part."
He looked at her with a bemused expression. "Why do you care?"
"About you?"
He shrugged in response.
"Mr. Castle, I don't know what you expect of me, whether it's because of what I am, or what you've experienced at these sorts of parties, but I'm not the sort of woman who enjoys a client's misfortune. I do have some humanity, you know."
Castle smiled. "No, that's not what I meant."
She frowned. Just what was he getting at? "Then what did you mean?"
He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Kate gaped openly at Castle, unable to coincide this sleek, well-dressed man who fit in and laughed normally with most of the politicians and movie stars that went to $1,000 dollar a plate parties, and yet, could act like such a child enjoying holding a secret over someone's head. She had it in her mind to give a snappy retort, but instead, she smiled her making-men's-knees-melt smile. His smirk dropped, and his ocean blue eyes darkened in reaction to her smile.
"I'll see you around, Castle."
And then Kate turned around and walked confidently towards the ballroom exit, knowing-and enjoying-full well that Richard Castle's eyes were planted firmly on her swaying hips. Thank you, Charlize Theron for the advice, she thought.
Several Days Later
He'd been unable to stop thinking about Katerina ever since the fundraiser the other night, unable to stop thinking about that seductive way of walking she had dressed in gold silk that hugged her body. She'd left so suddenly, and he'd almost thought about going after her and begging her to extend the arrangement they had, but then he thought of Alexis and how disappointed she'd be if he didn't return at the promised time. He hated breaking a promise to his impressionable daughter, even if it meant losing track of the woman who'd caught his attention by being more concerned about what could happen to his reputation rather than his. Oh, how his younger self would weep.
So, to make it up to himself, he'd decided that he'd splurge-calorie-wise-on a bacon-wrapped, chocolate-covered cronut that a local bakery near his loft made. They were extraordinarily delicious, and enough to make his jeans tighter in places they didn't need to be, even if it made his backside look amazing. According to some single mothers of Alexis' friends.
Opening the door of the bakery, Rick stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a woman facing away from him in line. She wore unremarkable jeans, ankle boots and short coat, but when she stepped forward, he knew. He knew who she was exactly by the sway of her hips.
"Katerina!" He exclaimed.
She whirled around and observed him with wide eyes. Obviously she wasn't expecting to encounter him here of all places. She stepped out of line.
"Mr. Castle, what are you doing here?"
"I live near here, what are you doing here?"
"I do, too."
"I can't stop thinking about you."
Katerina's cheeks bloomed pink, and she dropped her head, avoiding his gaze. "You don't even know my name."
"Sure I do! Katerina, right?"
"No, that's just my...stage name, I guess you can call it. It makes dealing with clients easier, because if they don't know my real name, it's harder to find me. It's helped."
That seemed like a pretty sound decision to him.
"I'm Rick Castle," He said, holding out his hand towards her. So he didn't know her real name. He was willing to make the effort to get to know her without the exchanging of money and promises that didn't mean a thing. And it looked like it was working.
She smiled a true smile and took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Katherine Beckett. Call me Kate, Rick."
And that was that.