Excerpt
From the Prologue:

Twenty-two year old Morgan Blair was still shaking his head in disbelief as he approached the Paris hotel in which he was staying. He had only gone to the restaurant on his younger brother's recommendation, and after ten minutes of watching the scantily clad waitresses and dancers, began to wonder how Patrick, at 18, had gained admittance to the place. No doubt Patrick would only grin and claim that money could buy a person's way in anywhere.
A block away from the hotel, Morgan noticed the two young women standing on a corner, drawing attention to themselves. One was brown haired, the other blonde, and both were dressed in skimpy outfits that left very little to the imagination. Tight, low cut blouses, very short skirts, high heel shoes that were very nearly stilts, they were the quintessential streetwalkers of most people's imagination. Moving closer, he heard the dark haired one say something to a man who had stopped to ogle them. "Don't look if you're not interested in making it worth our while, ami," she said in a heavy French accent that couldn't possibly be real.