Chapter One
What the hell am I doing? Clara Baines stared at her reflection. Nothing in the world should make her answer the ad in the business section of her local newspaper. The money meant nothing to her if she no longer held any self-respect. Right? But she needed money, fast. Her father’s debt collectors were demanding restitution. If he didn’t have the money soon, they were going to take their displeasure out on her. They had already paid her a surprise visit to give her a firm warning. Being felt up by a thug wasn’t on her list of things to experience before she turned twenty-five.
She pulled back her long raven colored hair into a ponytail. The locks were too long and thick to leave flying loose. She wore no makeup as she wanted to look earthy, also she didn’t like the feel of the stuff on her face.
Phoning the ad in the paper, she hadn’t really expected to get a date. However, the quick conversation had led to a date in a local café. The mystery man requesting she wear a red scarf. When she asked how she would recognize him, he informed her not to worry. He would be the one to find her.
“This is it,” she said to the mirror. She had to work late and there would be no going out for her. Clara couldn’t remember a Friday when she did get a chance to go out. No matter how many times she tried to get out of the current meeting she always came back to the same thing, her father’s debt and her own safety. Grabbing her bag on the way from her bedroom, she walked out her front door.
She purchased coffee and a bagel at the stand outside the office where she worked. People were all about bumping her. Before entering the building she was determined to drink her beverage. Lunch would be another matter. Her life could end before she got to her lunch break.
Everyone moved to their cubicles as she walked up to her desk. Her job grew less thrilling with every passing day. At twenty-five she was nothing more than the office slave sorting files and complaints while being asked constantly to make coffee. She’d been transferred to the top floor for the executives’ convenience. Most of the tea making people spent a great deal of time along the bottom floor dealing with the mail or packages. Claire didn’t understand why she’d been moved to the top floor.
She recognized the glares she received from the other women who worked on the same floor. They clearly felt her beneath them. None of the women on the top floor ever set foot on the lower levels. Their taunts always made her feel small no matter how many times she tried to ignore them. The women made her feel like they knew she wasn’t supposed to be on the same floor with them.
Clara held no control on where management put her.
During the morning rush where everyone tried to catch up and get ready for the weekend, Matthew Johnson, the company’s owner stopped by her desk. He always sent letters down for her to type, then lingered until she started to squirm under his watchful gaze. Without fail, he found reasons to visit her desk every day. The guy had such a great body. His suit always molded nicely to him, highlighting how big he was.
Clara, being the fuller woman, knew what it meant to have a man who could take her. All of her dates ended in disappointment as none of them wanted to date the ‘fat’ girl. That continued to be her label—the fat friend to the skinny girl. She knew her friend, Tara, meant well. She just wished blind dating would bring her something more than disappointment.
By lunch time her nerves were frayed. She checked the clock constantly waiting for the time when she could leave to go to her meeting. The moment her lunch hour came she ran to the café, wrapping the red scarf around her neck. She ordered a coffee with another bagel, and then took a seat where the man on the phone had told her to.
With her back to the door, she tried not to keep glancing around. She knew the chance of the stranger staying would be a long shot after he saw her. Luckily, the coffee tasted delicious. She lifted her bagel to her mouth when he sat down. Her boss stared at her, waved to the waitress then removed his jacket.
For several moments she stared at him, not knowing what to do. His piercing brown eyes studied her.
“Mr. Johnson, I’m supposed to meet someone here,” she said, trying not to stammer. How could anyone tell their boss to go away?
“I know who you’re supposed to meet, Clara. You’re sitting right in front of him.” His voice made her freeze. The article in the paper requested a paid physical companion. She placed her bagel on the plate, her appetite gone. Reading the advert in the paper left her with no illusions. A paid physical companion pretty much asked for a woman willing to have sex. She wasn’t stupid.
“I think I made a mistake.” She reached for her bag with the intention to stand when he stopped her, his hand on her wrist.