* * *
Ben couldn’t believe everything Ryan had told him. She was a survivor. No wonder she’d gotten into escorting. She didn’t have a ton of nice clothes or a nice place because she’d probably had to use every cent she’d made to get her out from under the weight of her past. He had no idea how someone so genuine and funny and kind could have a history like hers. It made his issues with his family seem silly and petty. Though . . . “I haven’t been completely honest with you about why I hired you,” he said.
Ryan’s eyes had been fixated on where her fingers were tracing his abs, but her gaze jerked up to meet his when he spoke. Her eyes narrowed in what he assumed was curiosity.
Here goes nothing. “My brother’s fiancée and I dated all through high school. Natasha and I were inseparable when we were young, and started dating as soon as we were old enough to figure out what that was.” Ben chuckled a little at the memory: Twelve-year-old Natasha cornering him at recess and telling him they were boyfriend and girlfriend. He’d agreed easily, and the relationship had stuck. “We decided on different colleges, but that didn’t matter to us. We were going to make it work. Natasha ended up getting into Hudnell, and my brother was still there getting his master’s, so I asked him to look out for her.”
“Oh no,” Ryan whispered.
“Oh yes.” Ben’s jaw flexed instinctively, the story making some of the old, but not completely dormant anger he’d felt back then creep in. “He looked out for her all right. They came home for Christmas and broke the news to me.”
“What did you do?”
“Broke his jaw.”
Ryan flattened her palm on his chest and slid it around him. “Good.”
Ben laughed. “I also said . . . a lot of shit. How he was jealous of me, that all he’d ever be good for was getting my leftovers, all kinds of shit. Our relationship was already strained, but my words coupled with my hitting him broke us completely. He told me he hated me and I didn’t doubt it. Still don’t. If it weren’t for my mom insisting, not only would he not have made me best man, he probably wouldn’t have invited me at all.” Ben grunted. “Probably makes him hate me even more, if that’s possible.”
Ryan pressed a kiss to the inside of his bicep before resting her head back on it. “So why did that make you go out and find me?”
“Because I can’t let it go. It’s not the fact that they’re together. Obviously that worked out for the best. But I can’t show up to that wedding alone, or with someone I barely know, because even the thought of it makes me feel like that kid who got his girlfriend stolen by his big brother again.” Ben sighed. “I know I probably sound insecure and pathetic, but he got the girl. He can’t have my pride too.”
The truth was, Ben didn’t always feel comfortable in his own skin. His career garnered him a lot of attention, both from genuine fans of the sport and from women who were fans of his money, but Ben had never been comfortable in the spotlight. He was too reserved for it, too shy. The people in his life who were supposed to love him unconditionally for who he was didn’t even understand him—he wasn’t about to open himself up to criticism from strangers too. So he spent as much time where he was comfortable: with his best friends who knew everything about him and liked him anyway.
For a while after that, Ryan just hugged him. And he was thankful because it was exactly what he needed. Only Jace and Gabe knew his history with his brother, but that was mostly because they’d been friends when it all went down. He’d never told a single person since, but he was glad he’d shared the story with Ryan. And if he were honest with himself, it felt good to tell someone else. To lay it out there for someone he knew wouldn’t judge him. Ryan was a safe space for him—just like Jace and Gabe were.
And he swore to himself there and then that he’d be one for her too.
Chapter Twenty-One
After their talk, things were easier between them. More natural. But while Ryan was able to relax into Ben’s company, there was a still a general feeling of isolation Ryan couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that Ben tried to dissuade her from going out, but rather that she didn’t really have anywhere to go. She didn’t have another job to go to and the few friends she did have would’ve asked questions she couldn’t answer. Well, all except one. Which is why, over breakfast one morning, Ryan found herself blurting out, “Can I have a friend over?”
Ben’s eyes narrowed slightly as he set his spoon down into his bowl. “That makes me feel weird.”
Ryan’s face twisted in confusion. “What does?”
“You asked that like you were a teenager asking your father for permission.”
Smirking at him, Ryan replied, “And that makes you feel weird? You have a daddy kink I didn’t know about?”
“Why would I feel weird about it if I had a kink like that?”
Ryan took a bite of her bagel. “Solid point. Though you did seemed to like it when I called you sugar daddy.”
“I guess if you take my being horrified as me liking it, then sure.”
She shrugged before putting down her bagel and then rubbing her hands together to dislodge any crumbs. “Still, it’s your place so I do need permission. Especially since it could violate our arrangement.”
Ben’s head jerked up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the person I’d invite over is my roommate Camille. She knows about our . . . thing.”
“Thing?”
“You said I could tell someone vaguely what was going on, and she’s that person. But if I invite her over here, she’s going to figure out who you are. Though it will help me get her off my back because she’s been asking for me to give her your address in case I turned up in the Delaware River.”
Ben raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not saying that I’m worried about that. But put yourself in her shoes. She doesn’t have a lot of concrete information to work with if something were to happen to me other than an anonymous famous guy is paying me to pretend I’m his girlfriend.”
“Why’d you even tell her that much?” Ben didn’t sound angry, but his face didn’t give much away.
“Because it had been a long, weird night and I needed to tell someone. I couldn’t have known that I’d end up living with you.”
Ben sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I need to be really careful about protecting my identity. People can’t know about you being an escort. If word ever got out—”
“Your friends know,” she interrupted. The words sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it. Hearing him call her an escort stung her for reasons she couldn’t explain. It was what she was. Or at least what she was supposed to be. It shouldn’t make a knot form in her chest to hear Ben say the words.
“Yeah, but they’re my friends who I know I can trust with my secret.” Ben leaned forward, pushed his plate back, and put his arms on the table. “Can’t you meet her somewhere else? Why does she need to come here?”
Because she thinks you’re a serial killer with the heads of past victims in the walls. “She’s concerned about our situation. Letting her come here would at least—in her mind—give her a place to send the police if I go missing. You wouldn’t even need to be here. She’s not MacGyver. She wouldn’t be able to track down who owns the place.”
Ben shook his head and laughed.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because MacGyver wasn’t a detective. He was a guy who made weird shit with normal crap around the house.”
“MacGyver was a secret agent. My analogy totally works.”
“He was?” Ben asked. When Ryan nodded, he added, “It still sounds weird.”
“Fine. Columbo. How’s that?”
“Do you know any TV references from this century?” he asked.
“You’re being really annoying.”
“What can I say? It’s what I do best.”
Ryan gave him an unimpressed look in return.
Ben ran a hand over his face. “You trust her?”
“Yes.” Ryan hadn’
t hesitated in responding, but even after thinking it over she realized it was true. She trusted Camille.
“Okay, fine. Invite her over.”
Ryan jumped up and circled the table so she could throw her arms around Ben. “Thanks.”
“Jesus Christ, stop attacking me,” Ben grumbled as he tried to unwind her arms from his neck.
But Ryan wasn’t letting go. Instead, she sat on his lap and looked intently at him. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Ben’s hands gently gripped her forearms, his thumbs rubbing over the soft skin. “Thank you for trusting me not to dump you in the Delaware.”
Ryan smiled as she pressed her lips to Ben’s. The kiss started soft and intimate, but it escalated quickly and naturally—a coming together of bodies that intrinsically knew what they wanted and knew they could have it now that sex with him actually relieved the pressure of the lie she was living.
And when Ben laid her out on his bed and pushed inside of her, her brain formed a stray thought that surprised her: This must be what coming home feels like. It had been a long time since she’d had a home, and the one she’d had hadn’t ever fully felt like hers. Even though her grandparents had loved her, she’d also felt like a burden to them. But she wasn’t a burden here. Here she was wanted—needed even—and the knowledge made the sex more intense, made her orgasm wash over her like a tidal wave, made her cling to Ben as he thrust into her and chased his own release. When he caught it, the look on his face was beautiful and pure and . . . fuck, she wanted to sear it into her brain so she could recall the memory whenever she needed to.
Because she was pretty sure no one would ever look at her like that again. The thought was both thrilling and devastating.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ryan called Camille later that morning, and since it was Monday and the salon she worked in was closed, Camille was free all day. Ryan gave her the address and Camille said she’d see her in about an hour.
Even though Ryan had expected Ben to leave, he didn’t. When she asked him if he was sure he wanted to stay, he said, “Sure. Maybe it’ll help her not worry so much if she meets me.” He did add that he and the guys were going to go out later and they might come over first, but that was it. Ben acted as if he didn’t have a single reservation about having a stranger in his house. Ryan didn’t know if he’d become a better actor after their one class or if he truly trusted her that much. She wasn’t certain which she preferred.
Closer to two hours later, the front desk called up to say that Camille had arrived. Ben told them to send her up, and three minutes later, Camille was walking into Ben’s apartment with eyes as wide as saucers.
Ryan walked over and gave her a hug.
“This is some place,” Camille said in her ear. “Does he run a drug cartel?”
Ryan laughed as she pulled back. “No. Why?”
Camille shrugged. “I watched Scarface earlier.”
Rolling her eyes good naturedly, Ryan turned so she could introduce Ben and Camille.
“Nice to meet you,” Ben said as he held out his hand for her to shake.
“Holy shit.”
Ben looked at Camille like she’d just escaped from a sanitarium. “Um, excuse me?”
“You’re Ben Williamson.” She turned to Ryan and pointed at Ben. “You’re living with Ben Williamson?”
“Yeah.” Ryan dragged the word out. In all the time she’d stayed with Camille, Ryan had no idea she was a hockey fan. “You’ve heard of him?”
Ben’s and Camille’s gazes both flew to her. Ben looked a little insulted, but it was Camille who spoke. “Are you kidding? I grew up in a hockey family. All three of my brothers played, and my dad coached.” Her eyes dropped to where Ben still held out his hand and she gasped. “Sorry.” She shook it vigorously. “It’s great to meet you.”
Ryan glanced at her friend. She might not know much about hockey, but Ryan did know it was expensive to play. If Camille’s family had been able to afford three boys playing it, they probably would have had a decent income. Since Ryan didn’t normally like to divulge too much of her own past, she typically didn’t ask questions about people’s upbringings. But now she couldn’t help but wonder what Camille’s story was, and how she’d found herself living in a hole-in-the-wall in one of Philly’s worst neighborhoods.
Camille held his hand a little longer than a typical handshake called for and flushed when she realized it. There was an awkward second of silence before Ben excused himself.
As soon as he left, Camille rounded on Ryan. “How could you not tell me you were staying with Ben Williamson?”
“Can you stop using his full name? It’s strange.”
Camille glared at her.
“Sorry. I didn’t know you’d know who he was. And I wasn’t supposed to tell you anyway.”
“He’s one of the best players in the league. Of course I know who he is.”
“I didn’t,” Ryan said.
“Well, there’s clearly something very wrong with you, then.”
“Gee, thanks.” Ryan led Camille over to the couch and they sat down.
“At least now I know why he didn’t want you telling anyone. Word of this could destroy his career.”
A sick feeling spread through Ryan’s gut. Obviously she’d known it could be bad for his job. He’d even told her as much. But hearing it from someone else notched her anxiety up a few thousand degrees. “Could it really destroy it? Athletes get caught doing dumb stuff all the time.”
“I guess that’s true. It probably wouldn’t destroy it, but he’s got a reputation for being a stand-up guy. So it’d definitely hurt his appeal.”
“No pressure,” Ryan muttered.
“It’s not like you’re going to go shouting it from the roof. And I won’t ever say anything. Pinky swear.” Camille held up her little finger.
Ryan smiled as she hooked hers with Camille’s. Even though she hadn’t put much faith in a pinky swear since elementary school, the gesture made her feel better. The two girls sat and chatted for a while, catching up on building gossip mostly. Camille seemed content to leave the topic of Ryan’s “job” alone now that she’d met Ben, and Ryan was thankful for it.
A while later, they were interrupted by banging on the front door. “Open up, asshole. I need to use your bathroom before we go.”
Gabe. Ryan started to get up, but Ben hurried into the room and toward the door. “Sorry,” he said to them as he reached the door. “And I also apologize for everything that comes out of his mouth once he gets in here. He can be a little . . . much.”
“I’m sure I can handle it,” Camille replied.
Ben nodded and pulled open the door. “You jackass. I have neighbors, you know.”
“Well, that was your first mistake,” Gabe said as he hurried in.
Jace followed. “I managed to keep him from knocking again. It’s the most I could do.”
As the men walked more fully into the room, Gabe’s eyes zeroed in on the couch. He drew himself up to his full height and swaggered over—or as much as he could swagger while wearing a knee brace. “And who do we have here?”
“This is Ryan’s friend Camille,” Ben said, though he sounded like it pained him to make the introduction.
Gabe grabbed Camille’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Pleasure.”
Camille wiped it off on her jeans. “Thanks.”
Wagging a finger at her, Gabe smiled. “Oh, I like you.”
“Lucky me,” Camille deadpanned.
Ryan wasn’t sure if Camille knew who Gabe was or not. Her face was impassive, if not mildly irritated. But even if she didn’t, Gabe was quick to introduce himself.
“I’m Gabriel Torres. I play shortstop for the Premieres.”
“I know,” Camille replied simply.
Gabe relaxed back into the couch, his need to go to the bathroom seemingly forgotten. “So tell me more about yourself, Camille.”
“What do you want to know?”
Gabe gestur
ed toward Ryan. “How do you know the lovely Ryan here? Are you in the escorting business as well?”
“For fuck’s sake, Torres,” Ben growled.
“What? It was only a question.” Gabe looked genuinely confused as to what was wrong with what he’d said.
“You’re such an ass,” Jace added.
Gabe’s face fell, all the confidence dropping from it. “What’d I say?” he asked as he looked at everyone in the room.
Camille reached over and patted his knee—the one without the brace. “It’s typically not proper etiquette to ask if someone is an escort within seconds of meeting them.”
Seeming to mull this over for a few seconds, Gabe’s face was taut with concentration until he pointed a finger at Ben. “But that’s what he did.”
Ryan turned toward Ben. “He’s got ya there,” she said with a laugh.
After that, everyone was laughing. Ryan’s eyes roamed over the people in the living room. She’d never in a million years think that she’d be sitting around laughing with three millionaires. And what was more, she genuinely liked all of them. Jace seemed like a nice guy, and Gabe’s silliness made him endearing. And then there was Ben. Ben was . . . well, Ben was everything. He was all the things Ryan could imagine wanting in a boyfriend.
Her eyes took in the room and a dull throb of melancholy settled into her as she thought about how she’d never truly have a life like this one. All of this was temporary. And it was going to hurt like hell when she had to give it up.
* * *
After Gabe finally used the bathroom—and flirted unsuccessfully with Camille for a few more minutes—Ben attempted to herd the guys out the door.
“Where you guys headed?” Ryan asked casually.
Ben said, “Lunch,” as Jace said, “Meeting,” and Gabe said, “A date.”
Camille lifted one manicured eyebrow while Ryan bit her lower lip. “So you’re all going on a date together for lunch but calling it a ‘meeting.’ Got it.” Ryan’s words were teasing but the look in her eyes as they focused on Ben was a cross between anxious and curious.
“These guys are having a lunch meeting,” Gabe said as he jerked a thumb at Ben and Jace. “And I’m meeting a date so I don’t get bored waiting for them to finish.”
The Proposition Page 14