Escorting The Billionaire #2(9)

 

“That dress you had on last night worked for me,” he said, grinning.

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s dirty,” I said and smiled back at him. “Plus, I don’t want to wear anything that’s going to have us going at it under the table again. I don’t think your mother would approve.” I pulled out a conservative grey sheath and showed it to him. “What about this?”

 

“It’s fine,” he said. “But we’ll still probably go at it. It doesn’t matter what you wear. I know what you look like underneath—and I like it.” I went to him and kissed him on the lips, dropping the dress onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back, hard, and that wasn’t the only thing that was hard.

 

I ran my hands over him, relishing the feel of his enormous, sculpted chest, but then I stepped back. “Too bad we don’t have time for that right now,” I said innocently. “You have to be photographed for your New England Brides Magazine spread.”

 

He sighed raggedly. “This fucking wedding.”

 

I started to put the grey dress on. “I don’t know—I’m enjoying it so far,” I said, and I meant it.

 

He came and zipped up the back for me. “I am, too. And that was the last thing I expected.” He ran his hand gently down my back, sending shivers through me.

 

His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it, reading the screen intently. “I have to deal with this. Sorry,” he said, and started quickly tapping out messages on his phone. “But we have to get going, too.”

 

I put on some metallic sandals, lipstick, and a bunch of bangles. Then I grabbed his hand, leading him to the elevator and out to the car while he dealt with his business. It was beautiful outside, and Kai was waiting with a friendly smile. James was holding my hand while he barked into his phone. It all seemed so normal, so natural. For one moment, I imagined that this was my real life, and I was his real girlfriend.

 

It was perfect. It was absofuckinglutely perfect.

 

He was on his call during the drive to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, where the photo shoot was taking place. I took the time to look at my phone, worried that my mother had managed to end up in jail.

 

To my surprise, I had three voicemails. The first was from my mother. “Audrey, they towed the car, and I can’t afford to get it. Call me. Please.”

 

The second was from Elena. “Dre, call me as soon as you get this. On my cell.”

 

I looked over at James, and he was still on his phone, listening intently to something. Blowing out a shaky breath, I called her back immediately. “Dre,” she said after it had barely started to ring.

 

“Hi, Elena,” I said nervously. She rarely, if ever, called us while we were on a job. “What’s up?”

 

“Your mother is what’s up,” she said. “She came by the office this afternoon. She said she knew you’d made big money recently and that she needed some of it.”

 

All the blood drained from my face. “Elena, I’m so sorry,” I said.

 

“It gets better. I told her that she was not welcome in our office. She smelled, Dre. She was butt-ass drunk in broad daylight, and she was belligerent. I proceeded to tell her that you were making your regular salary and that I didn’t know anything else, and then I asked her to leave.”

 

“What happened then?” I asked.

 

“She went into the bathroom and stole a bunch of those mini hand soaps,” Elena said, sighing. “Then she left. But I have a bad feeling she’ll be back again tomorrow. Dre, I can’t have this sort of drama associated with my business. I run a luxury company. I can’t have your alcoholic, bag-lady-looking mother coming in and yelling at me in front of clients.”

 

“I know,” I said. I could feel myself turning crimson red. My mother had been ruining things for me since I was a child. I was so ashamed of her. For years, I’d felt bad because of that shame. I’d always felt as if I should be spending my time trying to help her more, not being embarrassed by her.

 

But now I was a grown woman, and I’d been taking care of myself for a long time. And I’d also taken care of Tommy because she couldn’t—and she never had. I’d seen her ruin everything that she touched, take advantage of everyone who came into contact with her. And now she was threatening my livelihood, the livelihood that was keeping her son healthy and safe.

 

I didn’t feel bad anymore that I was ashamed of her. She was worthy of my shame.

 

“I’ll talk to her,” I said. “She won’t be coming back.”