Escorting the Billionaire - Part 3

“What if he doesn’t care?” I asked. I sounded defiant but inside, I was crumbling. “What if he says what I am doesn’t matter to him?”

Celia Preston paused just long enough to look at me with disdain. “Do you realize that if you have children, they will be like royalty in this country? Everyone will know about them—where they go to school, what kind of activities they enjoy. That their mother was a prostitute. Do you think that’s what they deserve? Their lives ruined because you were too selfish to walk away? Do you think I want my son living like that? Married to a whore?”

I fought back my tears. I wouldn’t let her know she was wounding me. That she was winning.

“I know underneath it all, you’re a decent girl,” she said, watching me. “You’re ashamed of yourself. And you should be, Audrey. You’re infected with poverty and filth. So don’t ruin the man you love. Part of loving is knowing when to let go.”

“Who did you ever love?” I asked hoarsely, my voice barely coming out.

Celia snorted. “I love my sons, Audrey. I love James and Todd both. And I want what’s best for them. And that’s not you, dear. I think you know that,” she said and patted my hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve made arrangements for you to fly back first thing in the morning. And I’m still going to give you some money, like I promised.”

“What if I say no?” I asked.

“Oh dear,” she said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Too many things could go wrong.”

“What does that mean?”

“Use your imagination,” Celia said wickedly. “I know I will.”

* * *

“What the hell happened back there?” James asked, looking at me in alarm. I must have been as white as a ghost.

“Jenny was upset,” I said.

“And my mother?”

I could feel her eyes on me from across the table. “She just wanted to check in.”

Dinner was already on the table, and I picked at my food listlessly. Holy Christ, Celia Preston had just scared me. Her thinly veiled threat had left my heart hammering in my chest, wondering what lengths she would go to keep me from her son.

I thought about that for a second. And then I dropped my fork on the table.

Celia Preston has been scary since I first met her, I thought, but I’ve never been afraid of her. Until just now.

“What’s the matter?” James asked, his brow furrowed. “Do you feel okay?”

“No,” I said. “No, I don’t.”

“Then let’s go back to our room. I can have room service bring me something.” He stood and clapped Todd on the back. “Audrey’s not feeling well—we’re going to turn in.”

“Hope you feel better soon, Audrey,” Todd called.

I hoped so, too. But I doubted it.

* * *

“What is it?” he asked once we were safely inside.

“I don’t know how much I should tell you,” I said, pacing.

He stepped in front of me, and I stopped. “Tell me everything.”

“Well, first of all, before I forget—Jenny’s in love with Cole. He offered to set her up when we get back to Boston. He offered to buy her a townhouse, a car, the whole deal.”

“Okay,” James said, clearly confused.

“She’s upset about it. She wants more. And she’s mad at herself for having feelings.”

“Okay,” James said again. He still sounded lost. “I know Cole cares about her. I can see it on his face. I’ll talk to him.”

“Promise?” I asked.

“I promise.”

“Okay. Moving on, your mother knows that Jenny and I are prostitutes.”

“Huh?” James asked, completely taken aback. “What the f**k?”

I started pacing again, and this time, James got out of my way. “She said she thought you had… feelings for me… and so she decided to have me checked out. She hired someone to investigate me, and she found out that I work for Elena. She knows about my mother and my brother. She found out about Jenny, too. She knows where I live.” I shivered.

“And?” James asked.

“And she’s sending me home on a flight tomorrow morning. And paying me to never come back.”

James

My head was pounding. “You know I won’t let you go anywhere—not without me.”

“You should let me finish ’cause that’s not all she said,” Audrey whispered. A blush was creeping up her neck, which was never a good sign.

“What else?” I asked. Ice-cold fury was pulsing through me. My mother had crossed her final line with me. “What else did she say?”