Falling In (The Surrender Trilogy 1)

Scout wouldn’t have to sleep at the shelter, at least for a short length of time. There would be no more guarding her belongings and cold, restless nights of sleeping with one eye open. This could be that chance to finally rest peacefully.

She’d have an actual bed, complete with clean linens and plush pillows. Her skin prickled with longing for such luxuries. She’d be warm. Winter was coming and she didn’t savor the idea of coughing through another bitter season, chilled to the bone and unable to thaw until the arrival of spring.

Would their arrangement last that long? Even if it got her out of the unforgiving elements for a week it seemed worth it. Her narrowed perspective of life was so limited, she could barely fathom what such a life would entail, what such comfort would feel like. Something deep down in her heart, something that was frightened and indignant, told her chances like this didn’t come around more than once in a lifetime.

And then there was Pearl. Her mother would tell her to do it. She’d done the same for much less.

Scout could say no and continue on her slow trek out of poverty, but Mr. Patras was offering her a speed pass to the top. Her mind segmented as she rationalized the situation. Flashes of bodies rapidly flickered through her mind, colliding flesh and ticking clocks. Sex took only a few minutes. The more she considered his offer, the more curious she grew.

He was a stunning man. Her options for experimentation had never been so promising. There was a good chance she might enjoy him touching her. If not, she would simply send her mind somewhere else and all those luxuries could be hers.

It was a business deal. Her mind and emotions didn’t have to come into play, only her body. The survivor in her eagerly awaited her acceptance. Mr. Patras was a handsome man. He smelled nice and had clean hands and nice teeth.

Her practical side told her sex was a small price to pay for the easy lifestyle he could provide, but her prideful side, that part of her that demanded she was better than that, indignantly objected. Shutting her eyes, she muzzled her pride in order to think.

Obviously, he found her attractive if he was bartering to have her body. Something inside of her preened that an upper-class man like Mr. Patras would see her as desirable. She wasn’t fancy. She didn’t pretty herself up in any way. Yet, he wanted her. However, he didn’t have a clue about her real-life circumstances outside of the hotel. Scout was intelligent enough to know, if he assumed she was homeless he’d be more likely to chase her away with the dirty end of a broom than sweep her off her feet.

At first it seemed like she’d be sacrificing a great deal to oblige him, but now she wasn’t sure who would actually be taking advantage. When she walked away, she’d be leaving him with nothing more than a memory, but she might earn uncountable assets in the process. She could use, pawn, or recycle a good amount of what he’d provide. That was headway.

Money was power. She wasn’t materialistic. There was an infinite divide between her desire to have enough financial stability to not freeze, starve, or die another Jane Doe and the desire to be dressed up and paraded about like some fancy aristocrat. She didn’t care for superfluous wealth. She only desired stability, something she never had. Yet, no amount of rationalization let her dismiss the fact that, at the end of the day, she’d still be his loosely defined hooker.

No.

The rejection to his offer rang in her head, but temptation to take it fought hard against her will. Scout needed to get off the streets. Perhaps this was the fastest way to accomplish that. Attending parties with other rich people could lead to meeting someone who could offer her more than a minimum wage job.

Her gaze returned to the long, tapered legs beside her. He’d been waiting quietly as she considered his offer. One ankle crossed casually over his knee. His lean torso was barely camouflaged by his clothing. Her gaze caught on the shining, narrow silver buckle of his black leather belt.

“Look your fill, Evelyn. I plan to do the same.”

Her stare jerked to his and his eyes creased with laughter. “I was looking at your belt,” she informed him, offended he’d think she was looking anywhere else. As curious as she was, his quick accusation reminded her that the scales of life experience were extremely tipped in his favor. She’d have to be cautious about how much of her true self she allowed him to see.

“Of course.” He peeked at his watch and sighed. “I’d hate to eat and run, but I have a meeting I need to get to downtown. Can my driver give you a ride home?”