Escorting the Billionaire (The Escort Collection 1)

She sneered at me. “Look at you in that dress. Pretending to be something you’re not. Who do you think you are?”

I shrugged at her, defeated. “I’m no one, Ma. I just don’t think what you’re doing is right. James already gave you twenty thousand dollars. He paid for Tommy to stay at the center for I don’t even know how long. He’s a good guy. You trying to punish him for hiring me isn’t fair.”

Hot, ugly tears sprang to my eyes again, and I struggled to hold them back; I had to go to the reception, and I had to be presentable. “I already told you I’d give you money. I can, a lot of it—two hundred thousand dollars. The rest is for Tommy. But you have to get out of here right now. ’Cause otherwise I’ll never get it.”

Her eyes almost popped out of her head. “That much?”

“Yes, that much. But not if I get fired first.”

I just wanted her to go, but she wasn’t budging. Not yet. She grabbed her cigarettes out of her purse and lit one. She exhaled and looked at me, her foot tapping. I could almost hear the wheels turning greedily in her head. “That’s fine to start with,” she said. “But I want you to tell your boyfriend that I need a salary. That money ain’t gonna last forever.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, and he’s not putting you on salary.”

“I beg your pardon,” said a voice from behind me, making me jump, “but I would say that I’m at least a candidate for boyfriend at this point.”

I sighed and turned to James. The sun was hitting him from behind, making him look like some lit-up action hero, showing up just in time to save me from my mother’s evil clutches. I cringed—I didn’t want him here, rescuing me, anywhere near the filth that was my mom. I wanted him to take the sun and his billions of dollars and go back where he came from, safe from me and my ugly world.

“You’re just my date,” I said, raising my eyebrows at him and trying to keep my tone light.

He shrugged but smiled at me. “I feel so used.”

“You two are cute,” my mother said, blowing smoke in my direction and then turning to James. “And I’m gonna tell your parents just how much it warms my heart.”

“That’s not a great idea,” James said, his tone changing dangerously. I watched as he drew up to his full height, the easy humor leaving his face.

So this is what it looked like when James Preston was really pissed. I would have to remind myself not to make him angry—even though it was pretty hot.

My mother shifted, just a little, as if she was on her guard now. “I wouldn’t try anything, if I were you,” she said to him. “Even if you don’t let me talk to them today, I will get to them. After I talk to The Tribune and anybody else who’ll listen.”

“You’re not going to do that,” James said, watching her icily. “Because after I went and saw you yesterday and gave you a very generous amount of money out of the kindness of my heart, I called an old friend of mine. Who used to be Boston PD. Now he does private detective work.”

“Is that so?” My mother tried to appear disinterested while smoking her cigarette down to the filter.

“I now have him on salary, Mrs. Reynolds. He was thrilled with the amount and promised to be hyper-vigilant when it comes to your case. He assures me that any probation violations you commit will be promptly reported to the East Boston PD. He did a quick search online and said that he already had a lot of material to work with, actually.”

“Really,” she said, but I could hear the bluff in her voice. “So what?”

“So what is that if you keep harassing my girlfriend or come near my family, I’m going to have him turn in his lengthy file immediately.” He held up his fancy cell phone, which was as large as a Pop-Tart. It glinted in the sun. “He’s in my contacts, Mrs. Reynolds. And he is ready, willing, and able to send you back to county as soon as I instruct him to.”

She snorted and stubbed her cigarette out. “You’re a real prick, you know that? Masquerading as a gentleman. Just like Little Miss Whore over here in her ball gown. You two deserve each other.”

“Yes,” he said as she huffed and walked away. “I know that.”

James

When I’d seen her leaving the church, I only had one thought: No.

Then I’d found her with her piss-poor excuse of a mother, and I’d tried to make everything okay. We watched as her mother hobbled off into the afternoon, lighting another cigarette immediately and muttering to herself.

I held out my arm to Audrey. “Well,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Audrey asked.

“No. That’s your mother. I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that.”

She stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh, hell yes, you should have. She showed up here to ruin the wedding. She was in the church, James. She was going to make a scene.”

“I’m still sorry.”