by Sybil Bartel
I held the back of her neck and leaned to her ear. “What did you think would happen when you agreed to pay me to fuck you?”
She shivered and whispered, “You said dinner.”
I stroked the side of her perfect neck. “You don’t like it when I make you come?”
She tugged on the hem of her dress. “That was more than conversation.”
Any other woman, the virtuous act would’ve had me walking the fuck out. Instead, I was fighting a smile and rocking a raging hard-on. “Don’t worry, I won’t charge you for that orgasm.”
Her blush was fucking priceless. “If you’re going to bait me all night, I’m going home.”
The high of making her come tanked. “You already said that.” I pushed her wine glass toward her. “Drink.”
She was too polite to cross her arms, but her hands remained clasped in her lap. “No thank you.”
I wanted to break her. I wanted her hair wild, body thrashing, nails digging into my flesh as she yelled my name and soaked my dick. I wanted to watch those fucking manners disappear as she begged me to spank her ass. “You know what your problem is?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.” She looked everywhere but at me.
I waited.
It took three seconds. She turned and gave me those gorgeous green eyes. “What?”
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
“No.”
“Kiss you?”
“No.”
Goddamn, she was a sexy little liar. “Make you come?”
“No. Is this conversation going somewhere? I think you have your answer.”
“You wanna fuck a woman?”
“No.”
I liked her indignation too damn much. “You’re problem is that you lie to yourself. The reason you told me to call another woman is the same reason why you lied about wanting a husband.” I had a fucking mountain of limitations, but reading people wasn’t one of them. “You going to tell me why you’re really here?”
She inhaled like she was fighting for patience, but the look in her eyes and her hesitation said she was reaching for confidence. “You are a very sexual man, Mr. Brandt, as you should be in your line of work. But it may surprise you to know that not only do I not want a husband, but I am not looking for commitment or attachments.”
I ignored her dig about my occupation. “Did I ask you to marry me?”
She ducked her head and her voice went quiet. “No, you didn’t.”
I tipped her chin. “You didn’t answer my question, Red.”
Her gaze averted, she exhaled. “You’re going to be with another client tonight anyway. What’s the difference?”
There it was. I knew every word out of her mouth had been a lie. She talked a good game, but she was exactly as I pegged her. She didn’t want to be some asshole’s pound toy because she was horny. She was paying for dick because hurt was at the root of this for her.
And I wanted to know who the fuck had broken her. “Who was it?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who fucking broke your heart?” Because I wanted to kill him.
“There’s no—”
“That’s why you’re doing this.” She was fucking scared.
“What I do is none of your concern.”
She was right, but from the second I laid eyes on her, I wanted to fucking protect her. But if I took money from her only to stick my dick balls deep, I was no better than the asshole that’d driven her to hire an escort in the first place. The only difference was, when I left her after I fucked her, I’d be five grand richer.
I vowed then and there, I was never taking this girl’s money. She deserved better, but it was all I had. “When you’re with me, everything you do is my concern.” I nodded at her wine. “Drink.”
She stood with the kind of grace that should’ve been backed by confidence. “Call your next client. I’m not going to be with you for long. Excuse me.” She strode toward the restrooms.
The waiter came back and fate decided to fuck me in the ass. My phone vibrated with a new text as he set a double whiskey in front of me.
“Your drink, sir.”
“Thanks.” I read the text from another one of Vega’s clients four times before I understood it.
What time are we meeting tonight, sexy?
I glanced up to see Red as she disappeared around the corner, and the past three years mocked me.
Alcohol and women.
That was my life. There wasn’t a plan B, not if I wanted to stay fucking sane, but goddamn it I was tired.
I downed half my drink then my thumbs fumbled across the screen, because I hadn’t made a single smart decision since I’d told Red to meet me for dinner.
Now. Pietra’s. You don’t want to share, don’t come.
I sent the text and threw back the rest of the whiskey before signaling for another.
I didn’t know if he would do it. I almost prayed he wouldn’t. The part of my heart not completely broken foolishly thought he wouldn’t even consider calling another client while he was out with me. But that only made me an even bigger fool. This was his job, and I meant nothing more to him than a paycheck and I needed to keep reminding myself of that. That was why I’d told him to call another client.
But my jaw wasn’t clenched and my nostrils weren’t flared because I was angry. I was fighting tears like David fought Goliath.
I wasn’t special to him. It didn’t mean a thing when he’d kissed me like he’d needed me to breathe. That’s what he did. He took women to restaurants and did dirty things to their bodies then counted on them falling for his broken hero angst and ruggedly handsome features.
My traitorous body ached for his wicked hands, and I shivered at the fresh memory of them inside me, but I wasn’t going down this road. Not again. Not ever. So I straightened my hair and my dress. I couldn’t do a thing about the color of my cheeks or the ache between my legs, except hold my head high, and that’s what I did. I walked back out to that table intent on finishing what I’d started, because that’s what my daddy taught me to do. It wasn’t what you did, it was how you did it.
My bravado held to the very second I allowed myself to make eye contact with him. Then deep brown eyes took me in, stole my breath and held me captive. My body drawn to his, my lungs begging for oxygen, I walked to the table in a trance. Knowing I would never see a chair in a restaurant the same way again, I sat.
At a loss for words, I said nothing.
“I’m not taking you on as a client.” Deep, quiet, his voice soaked into my skin before his words registered.
The sting was worse than an insult. “Then dinner….” Oh my God. And what he’d done to me in the chair? Humiliation heated my cheeks and I needed to leave. But as I picked up my purse, the waiter appeared and set plates in front of us with a flourish.
The scent of shellfish and herbs assaulted my senses and I wanted to vomit.
Huge fingers closed around my wrist. “Put your bag down.” His lips touched my temple, and he issued a command like a tender request from a lover. “Stay. Eat your food.” He pulled back and his next words were so soft, I couldn’t be sure I heard them correctly. “You’ll get what you want.”
“Bon appétit.” The waiter set my napkin in my lap then retreated.
I stared at my plate and the food blurred. What I wanted? Or what I needed? Because I needed to not like him. I needed to not have had the best orgasm of my life in a restaurant in South Beach. I needed to not hate every single thing in my life the second I’d laid eyes on him.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Like a moth drawn to the flame, I looked up.
His tousled dirty-blond hair in direct contrast to his measured stare, he looked at me like he saw right through me. “Red.” He wasn’t saying the color of my hair. He was using his name for me and he was drawing it out in warning.
The wine and the smell of food churned my stomach and I didn’t care what he wanted. “I have to go.”
He set his drink
down and his gaze strayed to my neck then back to my eyes. “Take a breath. Right now.”
My breath short, my heart pounding, I panicked. “I can get a cab.” I’d heard what he’d said. I knew what he meant. I was getting my wish and his next client was coming. God help me, I needed to get out of here before that happened.
“You’re not going to take a cab.” His tone turned one hundred percent authoritative. “Take a breath and I’ll drive you home.”
“Your dinner.” I knew how expensive Pietra’s was. “Stay.” I pushed to my feet.
He was up and at my side before I was standing. He took my chin and forced me to look up at him. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re panicking.”
“I’m not,” I lied. “I just need to leave. The wine made me dizzy.” I sucked in a breath and grasped for the old me, the person I was before I’d knocked on his door. “Thank you for your time. Thank you for meeting me, but it just didn’t work out.”
“It worked too well. That’s why you’re running.”
“No, no.” I forced a fake smile. “I’m not running anywhere. Enjoy your next client.” I choked on the word enjoy.
“That was your idea.”
“Right, of course.” My façade was cracking. “I’ll find my own way out. Stay.” She could eat my dinner. She could sit in my chair. She could…. I shook the thought away and told myself Jared wasn’t a keeper. I could do this. It was just like Alex, no attachment, no feelings. But nothing that was happening now had ever happened with Alex. Compared to the way my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest every time I even looked at Jared, my hour with Alex had felt like nothing more than a turn in the road.
Jared threw some bills on the table and took my upper arm. “Come on.” He was leading me out of the restaurant through the bar before I could protest.
My eyes on the exit, I didn’t see her.
“Jared,” a voice purred.
Older than me, thinner than me, her makeup perfect, and hair styled by the best Miami had to offer, she was dressed in a black dress. Dripping money and confidence, she scanned the length of Jared’s body then barely glanced at me.
“Hey.” The rough voice he used on me, he used on her.
Thick jealousy crawled up my throat like bile.
She smiled like a movie star. “This is going to be fun.”
My heart lodged in my throat. Had he? Did she think…? Oh my God. “I was just leaving. You two… have fun.” Oh my God, his fingers still…. No. This wasn’t happening. I tried to move away, but a strong hand wrapped around my neck.
“We were just leaving,” Jared corrected.
“Oh no, it’s okay, stay.” My stomach crushed in on itself. I had to do this. I knew I did. I didn’t get to care who he slept with. He was an escort.
The brunette looked between us, but then her gaze landed on me. “I think someone needs a drink.”
I held a hand up and fake laughed at the bitch. “Oh no, already had enough. But please, have a great night, you two.” I pivoted and fled.
In my haste, I didn’t consider where I was going. Five paces and I was back in the restaurant. Then a familiar face landed in my line of sight and I froze.
Alex Vega. My first and only full male escort experience sat with a stunning brunette because God hated me. I turned to flee and Jared’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as he and his other client stepped up beside me.
“Hey, Sarge,” Jared’s voice rumbled out of his chest.
Alex looked up and anger contorted his features. “Jared,” he bit out. His hand possessively on the beautiful brunette, he tipped his chin, but he didn’t look at me or Jared’s other client. “What are you doing here?”
Jared smiled, but it was off. “A little dinner.” He checked out Alex’s date. “A little fun.”
My brain made the connection to Jared’s nickname for Alex, and I blurted out a stupid question. “You were in the military?” I should have guessed. Both he and Jared were dominant, controlling, and alpha to the core. They screamed military.
Jared’s arm stiffened and his smile dropped. “Staff Sergeant Alexander Vega, Second Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion, United States Marine Corp. You’re looking at a real live hero, ladies. He saved my life.” He practically spat the words out.
Jared’s other client leered at Alex. “Oh, he’s a hero all right.” She licked her lips. “Too bad he’s not working tonight.” She rubbed a hand down Jared’s chest. “He’s missing all the fun.”
Oh my God.
I was going to be sick. Did they just switch clients at will?
Alex’s date seemed to figure it out at the exact same time as I did. Her face went white and she pushed away from Alex. “Excuse me.” She got up and fled.
Alex growled words at Jared as he threw money on the table.
My mind reeling, my stomach rolling, I registered none of it. They switched clients. They shared. Jared wasn’t taking over for Alex. I hadn’t been passed off. I’d been shuffled. Like an inconvenience you had to handle when something better came along. We were just a paycheck to them. I knew this. I’d hired them. I’d known what I was getting myself into. But until this very second, the dirty truth of it hadn’t sunk in.
I was worse than pathetic.
Jared said something to Alex, but I didn’t hear a word of it. I was staring after the brunette, wondering which one of us was the bigger fool, when Jared kissed me on the cheek.
He kissed me on the cheek. Like I was important. I wasn’t important, not to him, not to Alex, not to any man.
An anger I’d never felt brewed into a storm, and my life became crystal clear. Every screwed-up piece of it. My hand was in my purse, closing over my envelope of shame before I could think it through.
I slammed my foil-embossed monogrammed envelope against Jared’s chest. “Here. I already got what I wanted.” I glared at the brunette. “Your turn. But you might want to make sure he cleans up first.”
My dignity in the toilet, I walked out.
Inhaling, I rubbed a hand over my face.
“Oh good,” a female voice purred. “You’re up.” A warm body brushed against my ribs as a small hand cupped my junk.
“Shit.” My back sore as fuck, I grabbed the wrist and pulled the ballsy brunette’s hand away. “Why are you still here?” I sat up from the goddamn couch where I’d passed out last night. Fucking alcohol.
The brunette giggled. “You’re hard.”
I was hard because I needed to take a piss. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and gave her two seconds of my attention. “I told you I’m not fucking you.” Five drinks in to a mind-numbing survival plan last night, I’d watched Red walk out on me. The storm raging, my head fucked, I drank until I couldn’t feel my fucking legs. Then the brunette drove me and my car home. My last coherent memory was shutting the hurricane shutters, wondering if the wind would toss me off the fucking balcony.
The brunette licked her lips. “That was last night.”
“Nothing’s changed.” I pushed her away, swung my legs to the floor and stood.
“Why?” She pouted.
If it weren’t for Red and the fucking hurricane-force winds barreling down last night, I never would’ve gotten drunk with her. She had clinger written all over her, but I’d needed the distraction from the raging storm, both inside my head and the one pounding the coast.
“I’m getting in the shower. You’ll be gone before I get out.” I didn’t leave any room for negotiation in my tone.
“My car’s at the restaurant.”
“If you can afford Vega, you can afford a fucking cab.”
She got up in a huff in only her underwear and grabbed her purse. “You’re an asshole.”
I didn’t even blink. Women either hated me or worshipped me. I didn’t give a shit which—until a redhead walked out on me last night. Now Red was the only damn thing I could think about and this brunette was pissing me the fuck off. “You wan
t to see how much of an asshole, keep standing there.” My dick, conditioned for this exact kind of challenge, pulsed, but I crossed my arms.
Her gaze swung south and she licked her lips.
Fuck no. “Out. Now.”
She smirked, but she grabbed clothes off the floor. “Maybe I’ll come by later when you’re in a better mood.” She pulled her dress over her head.
I was on her so fast, she didn’t see it coming. My thumb and index finger grabbed her jaw, my fingers put pressure on her neck and I did what they taught me to never do in the Marines. I showed mercy. “You step foot near my place again, you’ll fucking regret it.”
Her eyes went wide as fuck but her voice was all bravado. “Are you threatening me?”
“No.” I hated women like her. They thought their money bought them any privilege they wanted. I wasn’t her fuck toy. “I’m making you a promise.” I released her. “Get out.”
She couldn’t move fast enough. Thirty seconds later, I was locking my front door after her ass ran to the elevator. Lucky for her and her five-inch heels, the power was on and she didn’t have to walk down seventeen flights.
I threw on shorts, grabbed my personal cell phone and started opening the hurricane shutters as I called the asshole that’d gotten me neck-deep in this business. Not that I was complaining, my fucking condo and car were paid off.
Vega picked up on the second ring. “Hold up.” I heard the rustle of covers then a door shutting. “You fucking asshole, you did that on purpose.”
He was right. I’d called the hostess and sweet-talked my way into a reservation after he’d told me where he was going. Curiosity was a bitch. I didn’t know what the fuck my excuse was for taking Red. Maybe I had shit to prove. “You’re right. I had to see what woman you were giving it up for.”
“I’m not giving up shit,” he bit out.
I smirked. I’d seen the woman he was with. Classy, gorgeous and young. She was a forever girl. I probably would’ve fucked her if I’d seen her first. But that’s all I would’ve done with her. “So you’re taking clients again?”
“No, you are.” He didn’t hesitate.
I smirked again as I opened the last shutter and surveyed the damage from the storm. Debris was everywhere on the beach, but all the high-rises looked like mine, intact. “I’m taking the day off, bro.” Maybe I’d take every fucking day off. But I wasn’t about to tell him that, so I threw out a lie. “After last night, I’m gonna need Astroglide for a week.” I walked back inside my condo to start coffee, but my eyes landed on my keys and the envelope.