by RJ Scott
“Who the fuck are you?” Gabriel asked, his voice tight.
“Cam Stafford.” Cam waved a hand at the elevator. “This is my hotel. Stafford. You know, Stafford Royal.”
At that moment Gabriel should be saying he was a guest there, but if Cam was the owner of this place, then he’d know Gabriel was lying. A visitor, then—a beautician, or a masseur. Fuck, his head was empty of anything useful. So he sat quietly, not moving a muscle. The elevator would move in a bit, and he would stop it at the next floor. If Cam had called security, then Gabriel could talk his way out of things—he had specific words he knew to say.
Cam tapped a finger on his thigh. “I need to talk to you about hiring you.”
He allowed some time for a reply, but Gabriel was happy sitting there working the silent treatment. Cam wasn’t angry; he didn’t look like he was calling Gabriel on his career choices. Suspicion coiled inside him that there was something going on here that he couldn’t get a handle on.
And then Cam sighed and continued talking.
“So far, on the occasions my security manager has identified you working here, there’s been no drugs, no damage to property, no unexplained noise—”
“What the hell is it you think I do?” Gabriel snapped, and as he spoke he shifted a little against the wall of the elevator. The carpet was soft, but his back was as fucked as his knees and he just wanted out of this box.
“You provide…” Cam paused, seemingly searching for exactly the right words. “A service.”
“What the fuck?” Gabriel couldn’t hold that burst of temper inside him. This was the most surreal thing he’d ever been in the middle of.
“As I was saying, as escorts go, you’re one of the cleaner ones, or so I’ve been told.”
“Clean?”
“Tidy, personable. A remarkably acceptable escort for hire.”
“I’m not an escort. I get paid for sex,” Gabriel interjected harshly. He’d never considered himself an escort. He was making money. He had sex for money. It was simple and not something he needed flowering up as being an escort. “I have sex and I leave—there’s no fucking escorting.”
Cam wrinkled his nose and nodded. “Good to know. But differences between your definition of prostitution and mine are not why we’re here.”
Gabriel refused to react. He knew his place, and he was happy with that place until everything was done. Then he might want something else, but not right now. This Cam guy spoke like he’d had all kinds of education that someone like Gabriel could never have accessed.
“Actually, the reason we’re talking is that I want to hire you. For four hours, maybe five, and I will pay to cover any pre-existing clients you might have booked in at the time I need you.”
“What?” Gabriel was bewildered by all of this, because what the hell was this asshole on?
Cam ignored his reaction and forged ahead. “Of course, you’ll need to sign a non-disclosure, and the money would be cash with no audit trail. That is if you do taxes at all.”
“Jesus…”
“I will cover the cost of any and all clothes you need to purchase. That includes an obscenely expensive suit; the budget for that will be pre-agreed. The first hour of the booking is to ascertain suitable cover stories and/or share information.”
“What the fuck?”
Cam sighed again. He did that a lot, and it was starting to piss Gabriel off big time.
“You’re not listening—”
“What the hell is going on here? Is this some kind of sting? Are the cops waiting for me?”
“God, no, this is a genuine business transaction. How much do you charge for an hour?”
Gabriel stared at Cam for the longest time, but he didn’t look away. He probably thought Gabriel was assessing how rich Cam was, or what particular limit he could push to for money. Actually Gabriel, for all his training from Stefan, hadn’t had to deal with quite this situation before, and he felt lost.
I wish Stefan were here. He’d know what to do.
“Five hundred an hour,” Gabriel finally said. He didn’t qualify the amount with any provisos about who he had to cancel, or whether or not there was an extra percentage on top. Nope. He just laid it out there.
“Whatever we do?” Cam asked thoughtfully.
This he could do. He had hard limits and he knew them by heart. “You can’t tie me up, no drugs, no pain. I’m in charge, five hundred an hour, take it or leave it, makes no difference to me.”
Cam nodded. “Okay.”
What? As easy as that? I should have asked for more. “Okay?”
“Yeah. The only pain will be that you need to be anywhere near my god-awful extended family.”
“What?” Gabriel shuffled where he sat. “What?” he asked again.
“This isn’t for sex; I need someone to pretend to like me enough to go to a family event, and for that to happen in a discreet way.”
It was at moments like this that Gabriel wished he had a handy expression that would cover the shock he was feeling. Not sex. Not a night of sex, which was what he’d thought Cam meant, but…what? A night of family? Like a proper escort?
“I don’t understand,” he said finally, because he really fucking didn’t.
“It’s a business transaction,” Cam said.
“For real?”
There had to be something off here. Why would Cam have looked at him and thought he was suitable to fit in with a family?
“No sex.” Cam shuffled a little. “I want you to pretend we just met, you were a guest at the hotel, and the event next week is our first date. I thought that through so you wouldn’t have to remember too many things about me, or what kind of relationship we’d had so far. Hell, you don’t even have to know a thing about me; just that we met in an elevator.”
“Sitting, eating, pretending, no sex.”
“Yep.”
“For five hours.”
“Are you saying you can’t do that?”
No, of course I can’t do that.
Instead he imagined Stefan sitting there and what he would say right now. “Let’s talk money,” he said. Money was important.
Cam tapped his lower lip with his finger and looked thoughtful, staring off at the wall behind Gabriel. “We already did.”
“But you’d be interrupting my busiest time…”
“I didn’t tell you when it was.”
“When is it?” Gabriel asked.
“A week from Friday.”
“Yep, I’d have to turn away clients.”
“And?”
“That changes things. So, two five for the evening, no sex.”
“Five hundred total.”
“What the hell?” Gabriel wasn’t used to negotiating. “Eighteen, and that’s as low as I go.”
Cam didn’t even flinch. He held out a hand. “I’ll go to six, and that is as high as I will go.”
Gabriel hesitated. He’d actually managed to get another hundred out of the man, and that was another hundred in Stefan’s hands. He shook on it.
Stefan will be proud.
Cam was still talking, and that swell of pleasure at what Stefan would think diminished abruptly.
“I’ll need you in your new and hideously expensive suit, seven p.m., a week from Friday, room 1502. My security manager will talk to you about a budget for clothes.”
Gabriel entered the details into his phone and pocketed the cell. Six hundred dollars, take off what he paid Stefan, meant he’d be able to save some.
Cam tapped his ear. “You can take us down,” he said.
What did Cam mean? Who was he talking to? “What are you doing?” Gabriel said.
Cam frowned and pulled his legs up to his chest. “Six?” he said again.
“Who are you talking to?”
“My security man. He’s supposed to be starting up the elevator now.”
“What?”
“Seems my plan has backfired,” Cam murmured.
“Wait. The elevator stopping
—that was planned?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus, why couldn’t you talk to me on the fucking street?” Anger mixed with healthy fear. This was wrong; this whole situation was wrong. He needed someone to talk him down. He needed to get out of this damn tin box.
“I don’t discuss personal and private matters in public.”
“Get us down, then,” Gabriel ordered, aware he was letting some of his fear soak into his words.
“I’m trying.” He tapped his ear again. “Six?”
“Why isn’t the elevator moving?”
“I don’t know. Six?” Cam said firmly.
Nothing.
Panic was swelling; Stefan was going to kill him. Gabriel pulled out his phone again and held it above his head, hoping to see bars appear. Nothing. “You don’t have a signal in your elevators?” he asked.
“Our elevators are secure and private spaces,” Cam said.
“Wi-Fi?”
“Nope.”
Gabriel reached over Cam, pressing the same buttons as before.
“Six has control of the elevator.”
Gabriel forced himself to relax. Cam sounded so sure that this situation would be fixed.
Get me the hell out.
Now.
CHAPTER FIVE
Just my fucking luck.
That was all Gabriel could think as he sat on the thick carpet in his most expensive suit staring at Short, Blond and Cute opposite him. This man, Cam Stafford—this weirdo who wore dark glasses—owned the hotel. Another rich fucker who was messing with Gabriel’s well-ordered life.
He checked his phone again. Still no damn signal, and Stefan would blow his nut when Gabriel didn’t make it to his eleven-fifteen.
Shit. Stefan will have to deal with the fallout, and I’ll pay for it
But it was his fault. He was the one who’d got stuck in a stupid elevator.
Quietly there was relief mixed in with the panic; Gabriel didn’t even like threesomes that much, added to which he very seldom saw a large percentage of the cash, not after Stefan’s overheads. Of course, following that train of thought had him very aware that he’d just negotiated money that would have put him that much closer to the target he was aiming for.
Freedom from owing a single cent of blood money to anyone.
He banged his head against the wall, and caught Cam looking his way.
“What?” he demanded of the man who’d trapped him in this godforsaken hole of a space.
“Are you okay?” Cam asked.
“Am I okay? Jesus. I’m stuck in an elevator and I can’t get over how fucking creepy it is the way you were watching me in the hotel.”
Cam looked confused, and Gabriel wanted to smack the confusion right out of him. Of course, he wouldn’t; Cam was a paycheck, and Gabriel was all about the money. Added to which, the guy was pretty and clean, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get it up for him if it came to it. As long as he had his mouth shut. Maybe he could gag Cam when they were fucking.
Stefan’s voice was in his head. Maybe you should stop fucking swearing and pretend to have some respect for a client. They always fall for a man on his knees who shows them respect.
“You’re a prostitute,” Cam said.
Gabriel lifted his chin. Here it came, some grandstanding shit about Gabriel’s place in this world.
“And?”
“Someone in your line of work could bring drugs into my hotel, so of course security was watching you.”
Gabriel sighed. Someone wanted to call him a hooker, a prostitute, a whore, then that was okay—he was all of those things and worse. But drugs? That shit wasn’t right. He didn’t take drugs, not willingly anyway. And he was for sure not having anything to do with the trafficking of them. He’d lost way too many people through that kind of poison.
Just people he knew. Not friends, Gabriel didn’t have friends.
With the possible exception of Stefan, who stubbornly remained in his life despite Gabriel’s best tries at driving him away. The worst times were when Stefan held him so gently, cradled his face, and told him how close he was to leaving him on his own after he’d messed something up.
No, not friends, just people who drifted in and out of his life ending up dead from drugs.
“Statistically there’s a correlation between sex work and drugs,” Cam continued with a small shrug of his shoulders.
Jesus, the asshole sounded so dry. “I have a statistic for you,” Gabriel said before he could stop himself. Before the Stefan in his head could stop him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s guaranteed that only douches wear sunglasses indoors. One hundred percent always.”
Cam snorted a laugh. “I like that,” he said, and slipped the offending glasses off and into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
His eyes were an incredible icy blue framed by long, dark lashes. Add in the plump, kissable lips and he was the entire package. Clearly he’d shaved today, but his five o’ clock shadow was darker than his hair. That was the only thing out of place on an otherwise perfectly put-together man. The kind Gabriel might even give a discount to if he had any control over the situation.
“Better?” Cam asked, gesturing at his face.
Gabriel stayed silent; he didn’t think Cam actually wanted an answer, and Gabriel knew when to keep quiet.
Tonight couldn’t get any more surreal, and the elevator was way too small a space to be trapped in. Stefan wasn’t just going to be pissed, he was going to worry. Since that major fuckup four weeks back, when Gabriel had messed himself up and ended up not being able to work for ten days, the deal was you shared addresses, you fucked, you left, and then you freaking texted that you were out. He checked his phone again; there were no bars, and he couldn’t get a thing out to Stefan, which meant Stefan was probably considering visiting the room where Gabriel had just left a very happy business guy on his first trip to Dallas.
He banged his head back against the wall; now the night was surreal and a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
He wanted to ask what the hell Cam had been thinking, trapping him in this fucking elevator, but it didn’t seem Cam had been thinking at all. They sat in silence; he wasn’t used to talking to clients. His mom had always said he’d done enough talking as a kid, but that particular character trait had been beaten out of him after she’d died. Every word he said now was measured, and he’d run out of the energy for small talk.
“How was tonight?” Cam asked. “Was this guy one of your regulars? Because we don’t have a note that he’s stayed here before.”
Gabriel shot him a look of horror. The man wanted to talk about tonight?
Cam didn’t back down, only focused on him steadily, and Gabe felt compelled to answer.
“No.”
“No what? No you don’t want to talk about it, or no he’s not one of your regulars?”
“No I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Well, what else can we do?”
Gabriel’s words spilled out before he could stop them. “Two hundred cash for the best blowjob you’ll ever have.”
Cam merely raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “That seems a lot.”
“It’s worth it.”
“How do you do it differently from any other guy I’ve had?”
Oh jeez, had Cam just asked me for details.
Hell if Gabriel was going to give the idiot any kind of particulars on just how quickly he could get a man off.
“I’m not talking if you’re not paying,” he said firmly.
Cam fell quiet for a moment, and Gabriel thought he’d stopped. Then he started up again.
“You must meet so many interesting people.”
“Seriously?” Gabriel couldn’t understand what the hell was going on here. He wanted to tell Cam to stop making polite conversation.
“It’s what I do,” Cam said. “I can be polite, I mean.”
Had Cam read his mind? Gabriel shook his head. “You’re
not paying me to talk to you, so I’m not talking.”
There. That would stop the idiot from talking and making things awkward for the booking tomorrow night. But no, Cam was reaching into his jacket and pulling out his wallet. He plucked notes from the side of it, and hell there was a lot of money in there. A couple of hundred at least. Old Gabriel would have snatched that, and for a moment he could see himself taking the wallet and running.
Running where, you idiot? You’re in a freaking elevator with nowhere to run to. “How much to talk?” Cam asked.
“Fuck you,” Gabriel snapped. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to be called on his shit. He wanted things not to be so messed up right here and now.
Cam slid the notes through his fingers, rubbing them, then passed over a handful. With practiced eyes, Gabriel could see it was two hundred dollars in tens and twenties. For a split second Gabriel ignored the money, then he snatched it from Cam and shoved it in his pocket.
“That gets you ten minutes. Mouth or hand?”
A tilt of his head was the only indication that Cam had heard him. “A man uses his mouth to talk, but not, I guess, if the audience is deaf. Then you could use your hands. But I’m not deaf, so you’ll need to use your mouth to answer my question.”
Gabriel spluttered in an effort to come up with an answer. What was Cam Stafford taking? He narrowed his eyes at Cam, who was focused very intensely on a point beyond Gabriel’s shoulder. In fact there was just something about the way he wasn’t looking at Gabriel that made him suddenly wary. Was the guy on drugs? His pupils looked normal, but what if he wasn’t the owner of the hotel and was instead some druggie who dressed well and would end up hurting Gabriel? Instinct had him shoving the money he’d just been given further into his pocket—no way was the asshole getting that back. He waited for this Cam guy to call him on it, but he was strangely quiet, like he hadn’t even noticed what Gabriel was doing.
Fear curled inside him, but that was okay—he could handle fear, and it made his senses sharpen. Cam didn’t look like a murderer, but Gabriel had seen the slickest and most expensively suited men hurt kids and adults alike.