Watching him rendered me tongue-tied to the point where I was grateful he didn’t want to indulge in conversation. But tongue-tied didn’t mean paralyzed. My gaze was constantly drawn to him, although I didn’t gather the courage to meet his eyes again—twice was more than enough. Especially when both times the sensation of sliding at rocket speed toward a dark, but blissfully fatalistic end knocked my breath out of my body.
And when my pathetic attempts to resist staring worked, I could feel him watching me, those piercing, soulless eyes probing me.
My breath draws out now in a long, shuddering exhale as I recall those eyes.
God—
Heavy fists pound the door. I jump and release a husky croak. “What?”
“Time to vacate, lady!”
I shove the phone into my back pocket and thoughts of Quinn Blackwood to the back of my mind. I quickly re-braid my hair and stuff it back under the baseball cap, grab my stuff and open the door.
The manager smirks at me, flanked by two burly guys in dark clothing. They don’t have any distinguishing badges. In fact, they look more like street thugs than DOH, but then what the fuck do I know? I sidle past them, hurry down the stairs and cross the parking lot, avoiding the gazes of other guests who’re vacating the premises.
I lower my head and strike out towards the subway.
I’m still terrified to go anywhere near the internet, which is why the first thing I did when Fionnella handed me the phone was to turn the wi-fi service off, regardless of her assurance that it was untraceable. If Clayton could track someone to Alaska, he could track me here. I know that. But that doesn’t mean I intend to make it easy for him.
As my bag grows heavy in my hand, the subject of my homelessness looms insurmountably large in my mind. I consider asking directions to the shelter but even I know you can’t book a place at a shelter in advance just to stash your luggage. And with my money almost gone, I don’t even have a hope of finding a place to stay tonight. The rat-infested piss hole I’m walking away from cost forty-five dollars a night for the privilege. My only choice is to take all my stuff with me to my appointment and figure out what to do afterward.#p#分页标题#e#
I arrive with more than fifty minutes to spare. I find a spot under a tree in a park a couple of blocks away from the penthouse and drop down onto the grass. In order not to attract too many stares, I pretend interest in my phone. Time drags and with it a sudden intensity of hunger.
My stomach knows it’s about to be fed and it has the temerity to grow impatient. When it growls and clenches one more time, I put away the phone and dig through my smaller backpack. I stashed an emergency chocolate bar in there a week ago and I almost moan in relief when my hand closes over it.
I’m on the run from Clayton Getty. I’ve been recently evicted from my exorbitant hellhole. I’m sitting in a park, waiting to present myself to a team of strangers in a fuck off apartment in order to begin a cycle of prepping to whore myself on film with a man I’ve never met, in return for a million dollars.
I figure I’ve earned an emergency chocolate bar.
10
FIRST TAKE
Lucky
I arrive at the penthouse at the arranged time of six-thirty. The uniformed doorman holds the door open without questioning my status, and calls the elevator for me. I make eye contact long enough to murmur thanks and breathe a sigh of relief when the doors shut. The relief lasts as long as it takes for me to tug the cap off my head and stuff it into my bag. I’m beset by a whole new set of nerves when I exit the elevator to find Fionnella waiting for me, minus her clipboard. For the first time, she’s less than total sparkle.
“There you are. We need to get straight to it. The boss wants the first shots done tonight.”
“Shots?”
She nods and falls into step with me when I reach her. “Yes. Todd can’t start until we have you properly prepped.”
I’m ushered down the hall to the great room and straight across to the grooming area. She introduces me to Angela, the technician who was absent on Monday and yesterday, when I met with the fitness trainer. The petite woman with a mop of dark brown hair beckons me into her section and pulls the curtain closed.
“I’ll leave you to it. We need to finalize your lingerie choices.” Fionnella stops when her gaze lands on my extra piece of luggage. She glances back up but doesn’t voice the question lingering in her eyes. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll get you something for when you’re done waxing. You can eat while your hair is being done.”
Satisfied with her schedule, she nods and exits.