by Leigh James
Escorting the Groom
The Escort Collection, Book Four)
Leigh James
CMG PUBLISHING, LLC
Contents
Copyright
1. Lucas
2. Lucas
3. Lucas
4. Lucas
5. Lucas
6. Lucas
7. Lucas
8. Blake
9. Blake
10. Blake
11. Blake
12. Blake
13. Blake
14. Blake
15. Blake
16. Blake
17. Lucas
18. Blake
19. Lucas
20. Blake
21. Lucas
22. Blake
23. Lucas
24. Blake
Epilogue
Afterword
Special Thanks
About the Author
Also By Leigh James
Copyright © 2016 by Leigh James.
Published by CMG Publishing, LLC
Cover Design © 2016 by Cormar Creations
Editing by Red Adept Editing.
Proofreading by Dana Waganer at www.danaproofwrite.com.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. v.8.30.2016
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Chapter One
Lucas
"Can you interrupt Mr. Preston, please? Tell him it's his cousin, Lucas. It's urgent." I stalked around my townhouse with my cell phone gripped in my hand. The midafternoon sun shone brightly into the living room. As soon as I got off the phone, I was going out for a punishing run in the Boston humidity.
As if I could outrun what I was about to do.
"Lucas," James said. "This is a surprise. When was the last time I saw you? My wedding?"
"Something like that." I looked out the window, wishing I didn't need to have this conversation. "It's been a long time. How are you? How're Audrey and the kids?" The question felt perfunctory on my lips.
"Great," James said. "Our youngest just started walking. So we're still living in a babyproofed house, but we're getting there."
I felt a headache coming on. "How many kids do you have, again?"
James exhaled, annoyed. "Three, Lucas. We have three."
"That's a lot of kids."
"So what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call to?" my cousin asked, cutting right to the chase. "I'm sure you didn't call to chat about my kids, seeing as you can't remember how many I have."
"Right." I cleared my throat. "It's about my trust…" I let my voice trail off.
"If I remember correctly, it had some pretty specific provisions."
I winced. "Yeah. It's like yours—it's a generation-skipping trust. But mine has some interesting contingencies."
"Such as?"
I gripped my cell phone harder. "Such as… I have to get married before I turn thirty-five. Otherwise, my sister gets everything."
James let out a low whistle. He had no love for my sister, Serena. "That would suck."
"I know. That's the point."
"How old are you?" James asked.
"Thirty-four. And I'm not dating anyone. That's why I'm calling you." I took a deep breath. "I need the name of that agency. The one Audrey used to… you know. Where she worked when you met her." I couldn't bring myself to elaborate any more than that. James's wife, Audrey, was an escort when they'd started dating. It had been the family scandal of the decade, right before the one I had somewhat recently starred in.
"You're hiring an escort to marry?" James asked.
"You married one," I said, a bit defensively.
"That's because I fell in love with her, asshole," he barked.
"I didn't get in touch so you could pass judgment." I tried to keep my voice even. "I just need the information."
"When's your birthday?" James sounded as though he'd calmed down. And as if he was laughing at me.
"In three weeks."
He stopped laughing. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
I stared out the window, taking in my penthouse view. The Boston Common stretched out, picturesque and green, in front of me. "No, I'm not."
"Jesus, Lucas. Nothing like the last minute." I pictured my handsome, rugged cousin pacing around his office in Southern California.
"I've been going back and forth about this." I took a deep breath. "But I can't let Serena inherit all the money in that trust. It's billions of dollars." I winced as I pictured my sister running off between fundraising luncheons to squeeze in another Botox injection. "And I've just run out of time to meet Miss Right."
"I think this is a bad idea," James said.
"It's obviously a bad idea."
He sighed. "The name of the agency is AccommoDating. They're in the South End of Boston. The madam's name is Elena. Tell her I sent you. She always liked me."
"Why do I doubt that?" I quipped.
"Because you're not as dumb as you're acting right now." James was quiet for a second. "You're not really going through with this, are you?"
I coughed. "I don't really think I have a choice. I don't want to ask a friend to do it—"
"Since when do you have friends?" My cousin knew me and my work-obsessed habits too well.
"Right. I'm calling Elena. Wish me luck."
"This is a wedding I don't want to miss. You better send out the invites soon. My kids are playing baseball, and I'm coaching. We're busy, but I'll fit you in."
I promised to keep him posted before I hung up, scratching my head. My cousin, James Preston, had been a bachelor billionaire for as long as I could remember. He was also a real-estate mogul and a total prick. The idea of him happily married, with three kids and a babyproofed house, was baffling.
And yet, the inscrutability of his situation paled in comparison to what I was about to do.
BLAKE
"I'd like it if you'd stay," Ethan said, trailing his fingers up my arm.
I fell back against his Egyptian cotton sheets. "Of course I'll stay." Ethan was one of my regular Johns. He was funny and kind, and his apartment in the Leather District next to downtown Boston was gorgeous. He always treated me with a high level of respect, more like a treasured girlfriend than a hired plaything.
"Blake, I've been thinking…" He waited until I turned to him expectantly. "What if I put you up somewhere? Bought you a nice apartment? I'd take care of you, baby. You wouldn't have to work for the service anymore. I'd pay all your bills."
I ran my finger along his jawline. "Ah, you're sweet." I smiled at him playfully, trying to lighten my sudden feeling of suffocation. In some ways, it would be lovely to be Ethan's kept woman, to be able to leave hooking behind. But I'd rather make my own money and then retire.
And be alone.
His eyes pierced mine. "I mean it. A nice girl like you? You're the total package. Beautiful. Smart." He tucked a lock of my long blond hair behind my ear. "You don't need to do this anymore. Let me give you a new life."
Ethan was handsome, and he had more money than God, but he hadn't been able to find the right woman to settle down with. "Ethan, that means a lot to me, but I can't."
His brow furrowed in disappointment, but he didn't look surprised. "Why not?"
I sat up and started getting dressed. "I don't do relationships. Not anymore. But I appreciate the offer."
"Did somebody hurt you?" he asked s
oftly.
"Once upon a time, they did." And no one else was getting an opportunity for a repeat performance. I shrugged and gave him a small, forced smile.
"That's a shame."
I nodded. "It is." It was a shame, but I couldn't go back and change the past. I just had to move forward, the only way I knew how, the only way I wouldn't get my heart broken.
Alone.
"This isn't your typical assignment, Blake." My boss, Elena, pursed her lips, which were expertly coated in her signature maroon lipstick. Elena was the madam and CEO of AccommoDating, Inc., the escort service where I'd worked for about a year.
"What's ever been a typical assignment? This is the escort business, after all." I raised an eyebrow at her. "You're going to need to be more specific. Way more specific."
She adjusted the collar of her sleek black blazer. "What if I told you he was offering you a million dollars?"
I opened my mouth then closed it, momentarily stunned. Holy guacamole. "I'd ask you what he wanted in exchange," I said, recovering. "'Cause it's gotta be something big."
"The client is Lucas Ford. Have you ever heard of him?"
Lucas Ford was one of Boston's elite CEOs, a technology billionaire. "Yes."
I kept up with business news, reading up on all the latest stocks and business reports. After I paid my expenses and took care of my mom, I heavily invested what remained of my income. I was saving for a future that did not include working as an escort, even though it had proved to be lucrative. "He's a technology mogul, right?"
Elena was pacing now. "Right."
"I read about him in the Globe recently. He's in his thirties. Gorgeous, too, if I'm remembering correctly." What I also remembered from the article was that Ford was a venture capitalist who routinely bought and dismantled other people's companies. He didn't do interviews, and he had a reputation for being ruthless. A former employee had said he had "no empathy" and ate up other companies in a "zombie-like fashion." After reading the article, I remember thinking that although he was hot, he sounded like a dick.
And now he was about to become my client. Great.
"He's very good-looking," Elena agreed. "He owns several technology start-ups. He's a billionaire from a long line of billionaires. His family, the Fords, is one of the country's wealthiest. They're old Boston-Brahmin money."
I twirled a lock of my blond hair, intrigued in spite of myself. "Okay… but what does any of this have to do with me? Why is Lucas Ford hiring an escort, and why is he spending so much money—aside from the fact that he can afford to?" He had to be into some seriously kinky shit if he was offering a million dollars. I shuddered.
Elena pulled down her thick-framed glasses to look at me. "He was referred here by his cousin, James Preston. Do you remember I told you one of our girls married her client?"
I nodded. "There was more than one though, right?" Elena often told us about her "success" stories, in which one of her working girls ended up marrying a rich client.
The madam shrugged. "It's happened over the years."
"So what about the cousin? This James?" I asked, nudging her back to the matter at hand. Cinderella stories were great and all, but I wanted to get back to the important part. About the million dollars. The million dollars would be much better than any fairytale—because then I would get to rescue myself, and my mom, and we wouldn't have to depend on anybody else ever again.
Because that never seemed to work out too well. For either of us.
"James recommended our service. Lucas doesn't need just an escort. He needs someone to…" She started pacing again, no longer looking at me.
"Elena." I was losing patience and my imagination was running wild. "What is it?"
She sighed. "Lucas has a trust. It's substantial. If he wants to inherit it, he has to be married by the time he turns thirty-five. And it has to last." She waved her hand. "I'm not completely clear about the details on the time frame. He mentioned something about a year."
I raised an eyebrow. "He needs a wife?"
"That's right. By the time he turns thirty-five."
Both eyebrows rose. "How old is he?"
Elena stopped pacing and turned to me. "Thirty-four and eleven-twelfths. His birthday's next month."
"So you want me to… marry him? Really soon?"
Elena nodded at me. She had the decency to look ashamed.
I, on the other hand, had no such decency. "I'll do it," I said immediately. It felt wrong—the idea of marrying some crazy venture-capitalist billionaire for money—but I refused to let myself think it through. That kind of money would change my life forever. And that was what I needed.
Desperation could drive you to do crazy things. I was about to be Exhibit A of just that.
Chapter Two
Lucas
I fought my nerves as Ian, my driver, pulled onto Tremont Street in the South End of Boston. I was rarely anxious, but this afternoon was proving to be an exception. I forced myself to focus on my surroundings. The neighborhood was picturesque, with neat rows of brick townhouses.
Ian double-parked my Range Rover and let me out. I groaned inwardly before I went to meet Elena and my escort, Blake Maxwell. Elena had sent me her picture; Blake was drop-dead gorgeous. Other than that, I only knew that she was blond, healthy, and twenty-eight years old.
And she'd agreed to marry me in exchange for a million dollars.
My heart was heavy as I trudged up the steps. My parents had drilled it into our heads, from the time Serena and I were children, that we had to comply with the terms of the trust in order to inherit the family fortune. Otherwise, the money would go to some distant cousins.
Serena had already married, thereby complying with the terms of the trust. She'd known exactly what she was doing when she married Robert and divorced him a few years later. She was officially home free, scheduled to inherit billions of dollars.
Unless I took half of them from her.
My mother had been adamant on her deathbed. Get married. Inherit the money and split it with my sister. My mother saw Serena for who she really was: a spoiled, snobbish party girl, interested more in the state of her manicure than the state of the world. I love your sister, but don't let her get all of it. Those were some of my mother's last words to me.
That was why I was here: to honor my mother's wishes. Had my sister been a more responsible human being, I would've let her have the trust. All of it. I had plenty of money of my own. But Serena only cared about parties, luxurious vacations, and spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on high-end filler for her face and high-end fashion for her closet. I didn't want to see her sink my family fortune into lip plumper, Prada boots and donations to her beloved college sorority.
Serena would completely lose it if she knew that Blake was an escort—which was the only thing about this predicament that was awesome.
I walked through the doors of AccommoDating's airy, bright office. A tall, attractive woman approached me, her short hair spiky and highlighted. "You must be Mr. Ford." She shook my hand firmly. "I'm Elena. We spoke on the phone."
"Please, call me Lucas." I nodded at Elena, who looked more like a high-powered corporate attorney than a madam. "I reviewed the contracts you sent over, and everything looks in order. I signed them an hour ago. And I wired the deposit money into the account per your instructions."
"I know." Elena smiled at me. "Please, sit."
I sat down, warily scanning the office for signs of the escort.
"After I take my agency fee, the rest of the money will go to Blake directly," Elena said. "In the interim, as stated in the contract, you are responsible for all of her expenses. Food, clothing, housing. Her terms are complete at your one-year anniversary."
I cleared my throat. "I had my lawyer add one additional term: if I'm satisfied with her performance, she'll get a bonus of another million dollars at the end of the year." I'd decided that was one way to avoid any drama or poor behavior over the next twelve months: offer my escort an additi
onal monetary incentive to behave.
Elena looked stunned. She pulled her glasses down on her nose and studied me. "I'm sorry?"
"I'll pay her double if she does a good job. It's to encourage good behavior," I explained. "That means no excessive partying, no drugs, no boyfriends or extra-marital activity, and she has to be pleasant and appropriate at all times. She can't ever breach the confidentiality agreement. My family has to believe that our relationship is real. If she does all those things for a year, then I'll give her another million dollars. It's worth it to me—this is very important."
Elena opened her mouth then closed it, studying me. "I'll tell Blake that," she said after a moment. "She'll be thrilled."
"Is there anything else?" I cracked my knuckles, antsy, eager to be on my way. "I have meetings this afternoon."
"I'll make sure Blake's ready." The madam got up, hustled to the front desk, and handed me her card. "Please call me if there are any issues. I know that Blake is more than up to the task—she's a true professional, and this kind of money will be life-changing for her."
"Then it's win-win," I said confidently. Inside, I felt anything but. This is fucking crazy. What made it even worse? It was all my idea.
But once I made a choice, I acted on it. I followed through. That was how I'd gotten ahead in the high-tech industry, becoming a billionaire in my own right before I'd even turned thirty. I was a venture capitalist, and I was considered a ruthless one: I bought new companies and sold them at whim, never letting personal attachment become a factor in my business dealings. I rarely, if ever, doubted myself. And as I sat in the office and waited for my escort, I realized why: self-doubt was creeping and invasive, a choking weed wrapping itself around my insides.
I roughly brushed the doubt off, eradicating it from my mental landscape. This was just an unfortunate circumstance, a blip on the radar. I was hiring this girl for the greater good. She was going to help me, and I was going to help her.