Escorting the Player (The Escort Collection 3)

With the signing money Elena had given me, I paid my landlord for the next three months' rent as soon as I got home. It was a huge relief. Lila was nowhere to be found in the apartment, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I wouldn't have to lie to her face, which I genuinely sucked at. A curse because whatever she was out doing was probably something that she shouldn't.

I packed up the toiletries and personal items I needed and wrote her a note. Dear Lila, I'm heading out of town for a while. Rent's taken care of. You can reach me at this number—for emergencies only! I jotted down the number for the loaner phone Elena had given me, the one I wasn't supposed to make personal calls from. But I felt better leaving my sister with a way to contact me.

I wanted to remind Lila that she still needed to get a job, and beg her to keep the apartment tidy while I was gone, but I knew she'd just roll her eyes at that.

I swallowed back the bitter taste in my mouth as I folded the note. Because we had no television and no Internet connection, I hoped that Lila wasn't going to see pictures of me with Chase Layne anytime soon. I was walking a fine line between taking care of her and being taken advantage of by her.

I loved my sister, but I didn't trust her—I couldn't. Lila would go nuts if she heard how much money I was making. And then she would find a way to spend it—all of it—and then I'd be back to square one. Again.

Not this time.

I locked up the apartment and headed downstairs. There was a hired Town Car waiting for me. I slid into the backseat and relaxed against the clean interior. As the driver nodded at me politely and pulled down the street, I looked up at my apartment building. I was thrilled to be leaving it behind. I was also thrilled I was going to pretend to be someone else. I'd never taken a vacation, but aside from the fact that this was an escort assignment, it sounded like the ultimate escape.

Avery Banks has left the building, I thought, a little wildly.

Hello, Avery Brighton. I liked my new name. It was new and shiny, full of promise.

Everything that I wasn't.

Chapter Six

CHASE

"I can't believe you hired a hooker for me," I said, pacing around my kitchen. "This is a bad idea. Fucked up. I'm not one of those ballplayers. I don't want my reputation getting completely ruined."

"Will you relax? No one's going to know she's a hooker!" Eric was looking through my refrigerator, which had recently been stocked by the maid service he'd hired. "And for the record, she's an escort, not a hooker. This is going to work. Trust me. This will give you the confidence you need, and you'll go down in history as one of the best quarterbacks that ever played. Just like you've always wanted."

I snorted and continued to pace. The house was immaculate again and was about to be listed by a real estate agent. Jessica had decided that she didn't want it, after all. She just wanted the proceeds of the sale. I had a few choice words for her about that, but I was keeping them to myself…for now. I didn't want to start a pissing contest with her.

"I don't want a prostitute—or an escort, or whatever—living with me," I said. The idea made me want to throw up.

"Relax. She's a nice girl, Chase."

I stopped pacing and threw up my arms. "How do you know?"

"Because I saw her picture. She looks very, very nice." Eric grinned at me. "I think you'll like her."

I cracked my knuckles, wishing that I was cracking Eric's face. I had no idea what this girl was going to be like. I was worried she was going to be user, or a smoker, or just a mess in general. "This better not turn into a disaster. I'm in enough trouble as it is. You need to keep her in line."

The grin slid off Eric's face. "You have to at least give her a chance," he said. "This isn't going to work if you keep acting like you have your period."

The doorbell rang and my stomach lurched. I sat down and buried my face in my hands. "I can't believe we're doing this. I seriously feel sick."

"For a big, tough quarterback, you're really being a pussy," Eric said, striding out to get the door.

I held my breath as I heard him exchange pleasantries with someone.

If she's a smoker, she's fired, was all I could think as I went out to meet her.

I rounded the corner and stopped dead in my tracks.

The escort—if this was, indeed, the escort—looked like she was in her early twenties. She had long, blond, wavy hair and a fresh face devoid of makeup. She was wearing a Dartmouth T-shirt and leggings. I could tell she had real boobs, just like Eric promised, and they were fantastic. She smiled at me nervously.

She was stunning, just in the T-shirt. She seemed innocent enough. Nice, even.

"I'm Avery," she said, that same nervous smile plastered to her face. Her voice was sweet with an undercurrent of anxiety, like she was trying to be pleasing.

I'm fucked. She was absolutely gorgeous. My cock, long dormant, actually twitched.