"We're gonna get too attached," I yell at his back before he leaves the room. My voice cracks a little, but that doesn't stop him from walking away.
"Too fuckin' late for that, sweetheart."
Thirty-Three
I don't waste any time.
Pulling myself together, I get dressed and take a taxi to Sanctuary Cove, where I ask to speak with Christine. It's late and I have class early in the morning, but I can't wait any longer to put a stop to this.
I take in her ornate office while I wait, looking around at how exquisitely designed it is. I'm a little edgy, the effects of the pill still working over me. I don't want to get fired, but I need to get it out and talk to her.
I can't allow James to ever see me again. As much as it's going to hurt, it's for the best. Nothing good could come from us being together. Except maybe sex, but even that comes with emotional strings I'm not trying to tie in a bow.
A door opens and Madam Christine walks in. There's no an expression on her serene face and I'm not sure how to handle that. I dig my teeth into the side of my cheek. Should I stand? Do I shake her hand and greet her? I hope I didn't interrupt anything.
She takes a seat behind her desk and leans back casually. I've never seen black hair so straight and sleek looking.
"I take it this is about your job tonight?"
My stomach knots, heart pounding. Fuck.
"Did someone complain?"
Her lips curve, but her voice is soft, pleased. "Quite the contrary, actually." Christine pauses and studies me. The way she looks at me makes me think she's trying to get a psychic reading on me. "You were praised. Not only did you get a very generous tip from Reece, but from James as well."
I falter, my jaw bobbing. "I didn't know I was given a tip."
Madam Christine reaches into her desk and pulls out an envelope and places it on the table. She slides it across to me. It's about two inches thick of what I'm sure is hundred-dollar bills.
"Thank you."
"James wants you as his own." I catch the slightest smile on her face. A rare commodity. "Do you know the pay involved with that? The requirement?"
I blink a few times, trying to process what she said. Christine is beyond thrilled. I can understand why. Her clients are being serviced, and she's getting richer off me. Only she doesn't know the whole story.
I'm surprised James got to her before I could. Even though he knows how I feel and where we stand, he still wants me and doesn't think of the consequences the way I do.
"No, I'm not aware."
"It's a hundred thousand monthly, a fully furnished and paid-for apartment wherever you choose, an American Express Black Card, and a personal driver. One year of your time is required. When that time is up, both parties can either go into a new contract or go their separate ways."
Jesus Christ. I almost don’t want to refuse an offer like that.
It's surreal to think that I could make over a million dollars in one year, but I know in those three hundred and sixty-five days that I would lose a part of myself I'd never get back. That's not something I would give to any client, not just James.
I avert my gaze and look down, thinking about the offer, shocked that I'm going to turn it down.
"What if I say no?" I ask quietly.
She lifts her hands as if to shrug. "Then you say no. I'd never push one of my girls into something they don't want. I'm not a pimp, Valentina. You come to me willingly, and you’re free to leave at your own will. Of course the money is fantastic, but being a full-time live-in girlfriend is demanding. You have to surrender part of yourself and be all in. It’s technically a full-time job. I was told that if you say no, to offer two hundred grand a month.”
My eyes widen and my lips part. She can’t be serious.
“I’ll be honest, my men don’t usually offer that kind of pay.”
My eyes are massive and my jaw is hanging open. She looks proud.
I sit in silence for a minute or so, contemplating how I’ll respond to the offer but also tell her that I can’t see James again. I’m sure anyone would say I’m stupid. It’s only a year, and I’d become a millionaire, but my emotional well-being is not something I'm willing to sacrifice. I have to protect myself. No one else is going to do it for me.
It's the right decision to decline.
I release a soft, regretful sigh. Not even money will win me over this time.
"Christine, I'm going to decline the offer, and while I do, I don't want to take James as a client anymore."
"If you give up a client, you give up everything he offers in the future. There's no turning back."
"I understand."
Her brows angle and she tilts her head to the side. "Did he do something wrong? Hurt you? Make you do something you didn't agree to?"
Yeah, he made me fall for him.
My teeth dig into my bottom lip. It would be so easy to lie, but something tells me she'd see right through it and I really don't want to do that anyway.
"No, I just think he should find another girl. It's best for both of us. We're already too close and I don't want us to fall further." I exhale a heavy breath and let it all out. "James is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. I feel like it would be too easy to fall in love with him, and I don't want that. I'm not looking for love, and I don't think he is either. We connected on a deeper level I think both of us didn't want to acknowledge, which is why I refused his last two jobs. I feel like I sound so stupid, but I'm not naive, and he pretty much admitted to me that he's in too deep. It has to stop before it goes further. In all honesty, I don't think he'll be surprised I said no."
"Did you have sex with him?"
"No."
Her brows lift. "Interesting."
She doesn't say anything else and it causes my stomach to harden.
"I'm sorry."
"Do not ever be sorry for using your head and playing it smart. It doesn't happen often, but there are clients and girls who do fall for each other. It never ends well. Never. Money can buy a lot of things, but it can't buy common sense. I'm glad you told me."
"He made me orgasm for him…a few times. I tried so hard to fight it off—"
She shakes her head and puts her hand up.
Now I know why she has that rule that I thought was so stupid in the beginning. It makes sense now. That feel-good feeling is undoubtedly tied to emotion and something everyone chases. We all want to feel happy and carefree, and whatever causes that short-term feeling is one we will continue to seek, regardless if it's good for us or not. I've always loved sex and if someone is able to give it to me how I like it, you can bet your ass I'd be going back for more. But tie in feelings and it ruins everything and makes it all a complicated mess.
"Stop. It's impossible not to when you're both into each other."
I frown. "You're not angry? I'm not going to get fired?"
"Did you come for Reece?"
My cheeks heat thinking about how hard I orgasmed because of him, how incredible it felt, how I would do it again if I could. But I didn't really come for him then.
"I came, but only while I was watching James. If James wasn't there, I wouldn't have." I pause. "Well, maybe after Reece I might have."
"Then no. But I bet you understand why I have the rules I do now."
I nod. "I do. They make perfect sense."
"I'll make sure James is never one of your clients again. Do you want Reece on that list too?"
"No, he's not an issue. He's harmless." I chuckle thinking about how I took control of him earlier and the look of elation on his face. "I do think he's secretly into submission, though, and would die if a girl took control." I give her a knowing look and the corners of her mouth curve up. "He seems too macho to ask, you know?"
She nods, her eyes agree. "They usually are. Thanks for the tip."
Stepping out of Sanctuary Cove and back into the real world, my shoulders feel lighter, but my heart is undeniably heavier. I'll never see James again. The thought crushes my
As I eat up the pavement with each step I take, I keep telling myself it's better this way and that I don't regret my decision one bit, even though it makes me emotional.
I want to cry. I don't want to never see him again.
I regret my decision. Of course I regret it, but I know it was the right one.
Exhaling a tired sigh, I walk a couple of blocks to the subway and catch sight of the woman I usually see when I leave Christine's. I don't know what it is that draws me to her, but it's something in my gut that I can't fight.
She's probably just trying to stay warm and avoid the snowfall that's supposed to take place starting after midnight. I walk over to her and recognition forms in her eyes.
My pockets are lined with cash, and I hand her a wad of bills. Her jaw trembles and I feel for this woman as tears brim her eyes.
"Why do you always give me money?" she asks.
"I just felt like you need help and I can do that for you. I know what it's like to struggle and go hungry."
She can't stop saying thank you and calling me an angel.
Yeah. I'm an angel with black wings born with no morals or modesty, and legs for days that spread like holy water.
But at least I put them to good use.
Thirty-Four
Ever since I was ten, Grammy and I volunteered at a soup kitchen on Christmas Eve. She never had money to donate, but she taught me that time was more valuable. She'd say, "The holidays are hardest on the needy and we have to give back, especially when they need our help the most."
I continued our tradition, even when I went off to college. Today I’m volunteering at a kitchen in the city, then I’ll go to her home in Queens and sleep there so we can spend Christmas Day together.
I offer a plate of food with a gentle smile to a woman holding a toddler. Something in my gut draws me to her. There’s a story behind her eyes, and I can’t help but wonder how she and her kid got to this point. I feel bad for them. No one should live on the streets, especially a child.
As I pass the next plate to a girl who doesn’t look much older than eighteen, I’m reminded that there’s a story behind every person's eyes. We don’t know what these people have been through. I’m not naive. I’m sure there are some who take advantage, but I like to believe most aren’t like that. Why would anyone willingly want to live in a shelter, or starve?
Seeing so many women struggle makes me think about all the cash I have hidden at home and the money I make now, and suddenly, the idea running through me like a freight train, I know what I want to do with my degree after graduation.
I’m going to open a nonprofit shelter for women and children.
I finish my shift at the soup kitchen with renewed energy and head home to clean up and grab my bags. Grammy is already asleep by the time I arrive. It's late and I don't want to wake her, so I quietly place my gifts under her tree and plan to cook her breakfast when I get up.
"You outdid yourself this year," Grammy says the next morning after we exchange gifts.
I swear she looks thinner since the last time I saw her, but it's hard to tell with all the layers she's wearing. It's a white Christmas this year, and even with the heat turned on high, she’s standing in the kitchen sporting the fleece-lined boots I got her.
"Did you get more prescriptions recently?" I ask as she measures out her morning medication into a small ramekin.
There's a slight tremble to her hands as she carries it back to the kitchen table. I look at the colorful pills with a feeling of dread. There seems to be a few more than usual and that worries me. She normally tells me when she gets new prescriptions.
She holds one pill up to show me. "My cholesterol skyrocketed." She places it down then picks up another. "The doctor gave me a new one for osteoporosis, and this one is for anemia. Apparently my levels were low. And this one is for high blood pressure."
Satisfied that it’s nothing serious, I take a bite of one of the cinnamon rolls I’d made from scratch, then address her original comment.
"I told you I make good money now as a shot girl and I wanted to spoil you." I had to tell her last month that I’d switched jobs when she questioned where the extra thousand in her account had come from. "When people are drunk, money flies, so I make sure to keep the shots coming all night."
"Aubrey," she groans. "I know what else happens when men are drunk, sweetie. I don’t want anything to happen to you."
I smile at her concern. "All I do is flash my pearly whites and the money rolls in. Nothing to worry about."
"As long as you’re not flashing anything else."
Dread forms in the pit of my stomach from lying to her, but I push it aside and ignore it. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. She’s my world, and the very last thing I want to do is hurt her.
"Grams, I want to spoil you and your cats."
Grammy's eyes soften with love. Taking the pills all at once, she gulps hard. "You played me, young lady." She jests, and I smirk. "Giving me gifts for my cats."
I chuckle and a smile spreads across my face. The way to her heart is through her cats. I may have gone a little overboard, but she deserves it. On top of all the cat gifts, I had a monthly food delivery set up for them.
"I did what I had to do. I figured it would be better on your arthritis not to have to lug those heavy boxes and bags inside."
"You have no idea. I didn't even know I could order a subscription thingy. I wish I had known sooner."
Swallowing the last bite of my sweet bread, I set my fork down. "I only just found out myself after I did some internet searching for ‘lady in the shoe’ gifts."
Her eyes twinkle with laughter. "Have I turned into that lady?"
"Uh, yeah, you have. But if they make you happy, then who cares?"
She looks over at her tabbies playing in the obstacle tower. "Life is too short to be anything but happy, Aubrey. You, my cats, you all set my soul on fire with love and so much joy. Those little fur babies love unconditionally, and it’s something this world needs more of." She looks back at me with clarity in her eyes. "No matter how outrageous, how weird, how strange your view might seem to someone else, you should never settle for anything less."
I swallow hard and avert my gaze to her cats. I've yet to tell her about Daniel, but with good reason. I don't have to guess for a second that she wouldn't approve. She'd tell me to dump his butt—not ass, because she won't curse—and move on to another fish. While Daniel doesn't set my soul on fire, he helps ground me and makes me feel stable at this moment in my life, and I'm okay with that. I'm not settling for good. I'm settling for just this moment.
"This is by far the best Christmas I've ever had," she says, her voice cracking a little.
Her words take me away from my thoughts and I observe her while she looks at her cats with longing. Grammy is happy, and I know the tears in her eyes she's trying to conceal are from joy.
"It's one I'm going to cherish forever and ever."
Thirty-Five
It's too early to be up. I’d tossed and turned all night again with all the shit on my mind. Lately the lack of sleep has been worse, and I can't figure out why. It's like a glass of water sitting on the counter that starts trembling because of a grumble in the distance. The closer the tremor gets, the more it vibrates. Then it stops. Then it starts up again. It's unsettling, and I don't like it.
Expelling a heavy breath, I go straight to the kitchen and pour a glass of orange juice. It's mid-January and I'm ready to get back to my schedule—and my life.
"I miss school. I can’t wait for classes to start back up."
"Only you would say that. Winter break is too short for me," Natalie says.
She's sitting on the couch bundled up. The winter has been cruel this year, and as much as I love the cold, I'm ready for it to be over.
I drink a full glass, pour another, and drink that too.
"I need the distraction from the weird-ass clients I've had lately."
She looks over at me. A sly smile spreads across her lips. "Spill. We can exchange war stories."
I close my eyes and shake my head, trying not to think about last night. "I can't. I don't want to relive it."
"Bitch, you better tell me," she says, then gets up and comes into the kitchen.
She pops a bottle of champagne and makes us mimosas. Then we take our drinks to the couch and get cozy under a shared blanket.
"I'm beginning to think Christine should make the men take a breathalyzer test before every job."
She frowns. "Why?"
"Last night, my client…" I sigh dramatically. "He wobbled when he walked and was so fucking drunk that he was flicking his cigarette ashes into his sparkling pink wine and then drinking from it. It was disgusting, Nat. I'm sure he saw the look on my face because there was no way to hide my repulsion. I tried to get him to ash into something else, but he wasn't even making any sense and seemed content, so I let it go. He smoked—and then drank—a lot of cigarettes."
"That's Clive," she says, then casually takes a sip.
My eyes widen. "You've had him?"
"We've all had him."
My face pinches up in repugnance. "So this is a regular thing for him?"
Natalie nods but doesn't seem bothered.
"From what I hear, he lost his entire family during a home invasion many years ago. It was gruesome, and he's never been the same since. He’s totally harmless, though. Honestly. I bet you didn't have to do any sex shit, did you?"
I shake my head. "No. I was surprised."
"He doesn't ever sleep with any of the girls or want sexual shit in return. He just wants someone to ramble to."
My heart softens a bit for him at that. "That's kind of sad."
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