Reason to Believe (White Lace)

by Gina Gordon

  If she brought her clients here, then that meant Marco knew about her previous occupation.

  “So, he…” I looked between them, waiting for one of them to respond. Marco just looked away.

  “Marco knows about me. It was sort of obvious when I’d bring in a different guy every couple of weeks.”

  “Grace is good for business.” He looked up, a sympathetic smile. “Was good.”

  “I’m still going to be schmoozing corporates.” She sidled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Marco, I’ll keep referring.”

  With a knot in my stomach, I turned away and stepped onto the circular pedestal in front of a three-way mirror. Marco took his time measuring my shoulders, arms, neck, and waist. Then he crouched and worked his way up my legs, making me more uncomfortable the closer he got to…

  He went for the inseam. I had no problem with men getting it on. There had been many times while filming that situations escalated into the bisexual category. Still, I was uncomfortable with the idea of a man touching my junk.

  Thankfully, he didn’t. He was surprisingly discreet and when he stood and spat out an “all done,” I let out the breath I hadn’t even known I was holding in.

  The whole time, Grace was on her phone. Another thing I didn’t know why I let bother me. I couldn’t help but feel like she would rather be somewhere else. Even worse, there was also a part of me that wondered if she was making dates with other men.

  “What kind of suit are you thinking of?” Marco asked, looking at me with an easy smile.

  “A…black one?” A suit was a suit, wasn’t it?

  I looked over to Grace. She gave me a cute smile. “Could we try on a couple styles, Marco? I’m not sure what we’re looking for yet.”

  “Of course. Take whatever you want off the racks. Let me know if you need anything.”

  I hustled into the back and settled in the second change room. When Grace returned, she pulled back the curtain with no shame and caught me in only my boxer briefs. “Just come on in.”

  “Like I haven’t seen it before.” She thrust pants at me then turned with a flip of her head. I caught the faint smell of strawberry after she was gone.

  She left me to dress and I put on the first jacket, one that crossed over itself at the front. When I stepped out, she laughed.

  “Exactly the reception I was looking for.”

  “Double-breasted isn’t your thing.” She walked up to me, turning me so that I faced the mirror. “What do you think?”

  I studied my reflection. There was only one description that came to mind. “I look like a pimp.”

  She laughed, pressing her hand to her mouth trying to stifle it. “What?”

  “I look like a pimp. I work in porn, for fuck’s sake.”

  But despite her distaste for the style of jacket, by the way she was looking at me, I had a feeling pimp wasn’t the word she would use to describe me. I knew that look. I’d seen it the first night in my office, and the second, and now I saw it here in the change room. Our eyes met and something in the air changed. Electricity sparked between us and there was no mistaking that this excursion had taken a sexy detour.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. I should be concentrating on work. But when she smoothed her hands over my shoulders, my brain refused to cooperate because the only thing functioning right now was my blood pumping its way to my cock.

  Our eyes met in the mirror and she bit her lip. Fuck it. That was the go-ahead.

  I twirled her around to face me, but even before she could steady herself she lowered, getting down on her knees in front of me.

  I had promised myself no sex. Now here she was on her knees in front of me and I wanted nothing more than for those hands to make their way inside my pants. If I didn’t touch her, that still counted toward my promise, didn’t it?

  “You sure you want to do this here?”

  “I’m sure you’ve done things a lot more kinky than sex in a change room.” She smirked, her red nail trailing down the length of my erection imprinted on my jeans.

  I groaned. “Do you want to compare notes?” I grabbed the shiny strands of her hair, so soft and silky in my hand, and pulled her closer. “Or do you want to suck my cock?”

  Heat sparked in her eyes and she wasted zero time advancing on me. Her nimble fingers worked my belt and zipper with precision.

  Second thoughts flooded my brain. This is exactly what you didn’t want. Random sex. Haven’t you had enough of that?

  “Wait! We promised no sex.”

  Not even acknowledging my words, she pulled my cock out of my jeans and boxers. “I don’t remember making any promises.” She huffed between long licks up my shaft. “And this isn’t sex.”

  “Semantics.” But I challenged my own argument. Grace wasn’t random. A blow job wasn’t really sex—of the penetration persuasion. And she definitely didn’t care about my vow. Her mouth was already working my shaft, her red lips sliding up and down the full length.

  “Grace.” I couldn’t look away. Those lips. That tongue. “I can’t have…goddamn.” I fisted my hand and punched into the wall, holding myself up as I buckled over from pleasure.

  She didn’t respond. She just kept sucking, moaning around my shaft, sending zings of pleasure shooting through my body.

  “You love doing this, don’t you?” She wanted to do it, so who was I to deny her what she wanted? “You want my cock so bad you’re willing to get on your knees for it.” Right now I’d tell myself anything to quiet the voices of guilt and shame.

  But it didn’t work.

  Why was she here? Why was she doing this? Not just sucking my cock, but helping me buy a suit and prepare for one of the most intimidating things I’d ever agreed to do.

  She pulled off, sucking in a huge breath. “I want it.” Her hot breath was magic on my shaft. “I need it.”

  I knew she was telling me exactly what I wanted to hear, but it didn’t stop me from pushing aside every single doubt. It didn’t stop me from guiding her back to my cock with my hand in her hair and taking control, holding her head in place while I thrust inside her mouth.

  “And you’re so fucking good at it.” I had to give credit where credit was due; she was good. Damn good. So good it felt like she could pull the orgasm from my body with one long, slow suck.

  My orgasm burrowed at the base of my spine and finally found its exit route. She sucked, and pumped her fist down my shaft, and it was all too much. With a groan, I came, spilling into her mouth.

  Normally after I had an orgasm I was flying high, like I’d just ingested the best drugs money could buy. But right now, I’d never felt so low.

  She might have agreed to help me, and it might have even been out of the kindness of her heart, but deep down I knew she was using me to sate some kind of weird need for sex she wasn’t able to handle or control now that she was no longer an escort.

  Spending time with Grace was my own sick form of déjà vu, bringing back every single memory of my childhood and reminding me just how easy promises can be broken. And I wasn’t going down that road again. Eventually she’d be gone, on to the next guy who had something new and shiny she could enjoy.

  This was the last time I’d let Grace Nolan make a promise I knew she wouldn’t be able to keep.

  For my own sanity, I needed to get that through my skull.

  Or there would be nothing left of me for anyone to claim.

  Chapter 9

  Grace

  I sat in my office at Elle Cosmetics. I had to admit, the fact that this was my office for the foreseeable future made me happy. I had always thought that going into business for myself would make me happiest. But over the last week, I’d made friends—okay, maybe acquaintances, but definitely people who knew me. Grace Nolan. University graduate. Foster cat mother. And ambitious go-getter.

  For the first time in a long time I felt like an actual person. I felt like me. And even though I was still tryi
ng to navigate the woman I wanted to be, I’d never felt so close to figuring it all out.

  But the best part about this new job, I didn’t have to make up an elaborate lie to cover up that I had been an escort. I didn’t have to tap dance around the truth of my occupation, because this was my occupation. Somehow this full-time gig made it all seem more real. More than I’d ever felt working short-term contracts. The usual knot that sat in my stomach was suddenly gone. I was a normal woman, with a normal job, and a normal future.

  This week I had interviewed all but one member of the management team and got a good handle on the mindset of the men working for Colette. She was the only female executive. If she wanted to move forward, that definitely had to change. Especially since she had some old-school workers sitting around her table who had entered the workforce before computers had been invented.

  My desk phone buzzed for the hundredth time that morning. I didn’t have to look to know it was Everly with yet another text about the party. The poor girl was going to give herself a heart attack if she didn’t scale down her stress level. And I knew that reaching out to me was just her way of coping. Even if I didn’t have any advice, a simple “good idea” or “great job” was just what she needed to take a deep breath. Since she’d quit law school and had no plan for the future, she’d become unsure of herself, and it pained me to see my brilliant friend uneasy.

  As I typed up my report and recommendations, I thought about the evening ahead, when I’d pick up my new foster cat. Sadie was going to kill me, but I hadn’t been able to say no when Alexandra called and asked if I had room for one more. These cats needed a home and I had four walls and a lot of affection ready to offer.

  I caught a glimpse of Marta Sampson walking by my office and I called out to her. She hovered in my doorway, her blond hair pulled high into a ponytail. She had delicate features and pale skin. She looked like a Barbie, except her breasts were abnormally large for someone with such a small frame.

  “What’s up, Grace?” She smiled at me, the same smile she’d given me my very first day when she’d introduced herself, coffee in hand.

  “What can you tell me about the executive vice president of client relations?” It was the most bullshit title I’d ever encountered.

  Her smile quickly turned down in almost a sneer. “That’s Scott. Colette’s younger brother. He’s hardly around, does zero work, but has a salary double mine.”

  That wasn’t bitter. Not one little bit.

  Marta was one of three human resource advisors and as far as I could tell, had a steady supply of work and was helpful to others.

  “Last year one of the marketing guys caught him doing coke in the bathroom at the Christmas party. A few months ago, I caught him with some random chick under his desk when I tried to get his signature on something. And let’s not forget what should have been a sexual harassment complaint, when he propositioned the temp in the kitchenette.”

  This guy was a train wreck.

  “So he’s a showpiece.” Not the first time I’d encountered such a thing, especially in a family run company.

  “I wouldn’t even say that.” She walked farther into my office, sitting in the blue fabric chair on the opposite side of the desk. My desk. “He’s nothing I’d want to show off. He creeps me out.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I don’t feel bad telling you any of this, because none of it was learned in a professional capacity. It’s just office gossip, but how he manages to get away with so much is beyond me.”

  “Is he on vacation?” He’d been the only executive I couldn’t get hold of this week.

  “He only puts in an appearance on Fridays. He should waltz in around 10:30.”

  Wasn’t he the model employee. He was going to be a complication, because I had to advise Colette that his position was redundant, even irrelevant. From what I’d put together over the last week, there wasn’t anything he could possibly contribute that benefited the company—additionally, he was potentially a liability. I had no idea how she was going to react. Family loyalty was a tricky business, and considering my own parents were assholes, I had no personal experience to draw from.

  “Meet me in the kitchen around 10:30.” She laughed. “We’ll get front row seats for the freak show.”

  I nodded as she walked out, an extra swing in her step at our plans for a covert operation.

  I was still typing my notes from the interviews when Colette knocked on my door then entered. As always, she caught my eye. Despite her lack of fashion sense, she was beautiful in an upper-class way I could never pull off. I was aware of my good looks, used them to my advantage more times than I could count, and I was sexy. There was a glint of dirty in every look I tried on.

  “How did your first week go?” she asked, sitting in the same chair Marta had just vacated.

  “Fantastic. I got everything I needed and will have a recommendation for you by the end of next week.”

  “Cheap, smart, and fast.” She let her hand fall to the arm of the chair. “I knew I made the right decision hiring you.”

  I sat back, reclining just a little. “Well, I won’t argue with that.” The better I worked for Colette, the more likely I was to get a referral when this was all said and done.

  “The faster we can get a plan ready, the faster I can make changes. And believe me, this office needs some change. Over the last few months morale has really sunk, and I’m fully aware there are certain things contributing to…” She left her sentence hanging. Immediately, I wondered if her brother was the thought she couldn’t say out loud. She waved her hand in front of her, shaking off her thoughts. “Anyway, I want to move forward in a new direction with positive and happy people by my side.”

  “By the time we’re done…” I pushed my keyboard away from me. “…you’ll have exactly the company you want.”

  With a double-tap to the arm of the chair, my boss stood and made her way to the door.

  “Colette?” I called out right before she breached the doorway. “I just want to thank you again for this opportunity. It wasn’t where I expected to be, but I’m glad you convinced me.”

  “Me, too, Grace.” She rapped her knuckle on the doorframe. “Me, too.”

  I continued writing up my report. I must have lost track of time because Marta appeared in my doorway out of nowhere. “Office Ass is in the building,” she said, out of breath and flushed. “I repeat, Office Ass is in the building.”

  I giggled. Marta was unexpectedly funny, and I enjoyed her frivolity, especially considering this was an office and I had expected to be bored out of my mind.

  I had to admit, I was more curious than I should have been, but with an introduction like the one Marta had given me, I couldn’t help but follow her to the kitchenette to get a coffee so that I could see the Office Ass—Scott—in action.

  “How do you know he’ll come here?” I whispered.

  I felt like I was in high school. Like Marta and I were hatching some sort of covert plan to catch a glimpse of the hottest, most popular boy in school. Although in this case it was the least popular, most disturbing guy in school.

  “He does the same thing as soon as he gets in the office. He rinses his plastic cup in the sink and puts his second protein-shake-thing in the fridge.” She snorted. “As if he’s even remotely buff.”

  I was seriously starting to feel like a visitor at the zoo waiting for the animals to finally show themselves behind the glass. I poured some half-and-half into my coffee, using a plastic stir stick until the liquid was a creamy beige.

  “Here he comes,” Marta whispered as she paced behind me in the small kitchenette.

  “Good morning, Marta.” I could tell with only three words that he’d given her a once-over. But when the male voice said, “Good morning, new girl,” I froze.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and a shiver raced down my spine. I was officially creeped out. His voice was mellow, cocky. And eerily familiar.

  “Can I get to the sink, pleas
e?” His breath touched my neck, and now that his voice was closer, there was no mistaking it. I stepped away, turning my head to the right, letting my hair fall in front of my face.

  This was my worst nightmare. Happening right now. In this kitchenette, at a place I had just admitted I loved working.

  I turned my back to him, not wanting to confirm my suspicion.

  “This is Grace Nolan,” Marta said. “Colette hired her for a special project.”

  I appreciated Marta’s introduction, but I didn’t want to be introduced. I wanted to disappear. Yet I had nowhere to hide, and no choice but to turn around and face him. And when I did, I confirmed that I did in fact know that voice. I remembered it whispering in my ear. I remembered it taunting me. Belittling me. It was a voice I’d never forget.

  Sadie and I, along with two other girls, had been hired to work a college party. Fifteen guys all ready and waiting to get with a hooker.

  I remembered him specifically, because he’d said disturbing things. Comments that for the only time made me contemplate whether or not I wanted to continue as an escort. The memory was as clear as if it were yesterday, even though it had been last year.

  I also remembered he’d wanted a threesome, and I was pretty sure it had more to do with watching his friend than it had to do with me. But I wasn’t one to judge. I had been the one getting paid after all.

  He looked me up and down, first starting with my breasts, then lower. When he finally looked at my face, it took him a moment, but there was no mistaking when he recognized me.

  Something sinister washed over his face and it sent a chill racing up my spine, numbing me. And I couldn’t afford to be numb, not right now. I couldn’t afford to be off my game, because this guy thrived on control. On power. That much I knew.

  This was the moment I had feared. The moment that I knew would eventually come, but I hadn’t expected it to be so soon or so close. And of all men, it had to be this one. The one who’d churned my stomach.

  “Grace…” My name came out of his mouth, slithering over my body. “It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, and I wanted to puke at the thought of him touching me, but I had appearances to maintain.