Escorting The Billionaire #2(4)

 

 

 

 

 

James had now seen my flea-trap apartment. He knew about my brother. He’d been inside me every which way, and he knew what I tasted like. He knew what I sounded like when I came…

 

What I sounded like screaming his name.

 

He had all of my ugly pieces laid before him, exposed.

 

I didn’t want to be in this position—getting back into his car, Kai studiously not looking at me.

 

I knew my face was puffy, and I knew James knew why.

 

I hated him.

 

But I needed him.

 

Not him, I reminded myself—I needed his money. I had to keep Tommy at the home. If I could finish this job, I would make enough money to pay for his expenses for a long time. And I could try to earn as much as possible in the meantime, to finally get ahead for once in my life. Maybe I could even stop turning tricks. Go back to school. Get a day job.

 

This could be a dream come true. It would be like a winning lottery ticket.

 

But to get to that place, I had to be with James again.

 

And all I wanted to do was run.

 

I sighed, resigned, and slid into the seat. James closed the door behind us and stared out the window. He didn’t bother trying to touch me again after our awkward embrace upstairs. And yet, he’d told Elena that he now wanted me for sex.

 

He was buying. I would give him what he wanted. Even though I wanted to run, I would make myself stay. I would go to the remaining events and the wedding, and then I would spend the following week on the beach with his family. I would pretend to be his adoring girlfriend. I would bend over backward for him, come when he called, and suck his cock so hard he would have an atomic orgasm. If that’s what he wanted.

 

We drove over the bridge and back into the city. The early-morning traffic was just picking up. I looked up at the buildings in the Financial District, and I remembered how he’d wrapped his arms around me last night, the way he’d looked at me. I thought I’d seen something in his eyes, something that mirrored what I’d been feeling. My heart twisted. It was all a lie, and it was no one’s fault but my own. I’d lied to myself, and I could no longer pretend that there was something between us.

 

Don’t think about it, I warned myself.

 

If I’d ever felt like a whore, it was now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

James ignored me the rest of the way to the Stratum. He ignored me in the lobby and in the elevator, opting instead to send out texts furiously on his phone.

 

That was fine by me.

 

I’d only been gone from the apartment for a little while, but it didn’t seem the same when I came back. It seemed colder, less inviting. Exactly like James.

 

“Where’s the dinner tonight?” I asked, willing my voice to stay neutral.

 

“This afternoon is actually the photo shoot, followed by a cocktail hour,” he said. “Evie somehow wrangled New England Brides Magazine into featuring the wedding in an upcoming issue. They want to get pictures of the families and the wedding party ahead of time. Then we’re going for drinks somewhere in the Leather District. I’d like you to come, of course,” he said.

 

“Of course,” I said. Anything he asked of me, I was going to do. I was here to perform.

 

He put down his phone and looked at me. “You seem like you’re being… accommodating,” he said. There was an undercurrent to his voice that tugged at me.

 

I shrugged. “I’m here to do whatever you want, James. I’m yours for the next nine nights.”

 

“Is that all I have left?”

 

“If I’m doing the math right,” I said.

 

He walked over to me slowly. I noticed for the first time that he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, not his customary suit, and that he hadn’t shaved. He looked a little rough around the edges. It was only a few hours ago that he’d held me in his arms, his skin on my skin. Heat pooled in my belly as he approached me, but an icy fear circled my heart. I didn’t want to want him. I didn’t want to look at his big stupid biceps and the shadow of a sexy beard forming on his face.

 

He came close to me and then stopped. I froze in fear, worried he was going to touch me, worried that I was going to have to perform already, when I couldn’t even bear to be near him like this. “We have all day before the shoot. I have to make a few more calls, but then I’m free,” he said. “What would you like to do?”

 

I looked at him and shivered. Was it really only a few days ago that we went to the Red Sox game, laughing and drinking beer? Was it really only last night that he’d made love to me and run his hands down my body reverently? Things between us had changed so quickly that I had emotional whiplash.