Escorting the Billionaire - Part 2

This could be a dream come true. It would be like a winning lottery ticket.

But to get to that place, I had to be with James again.

And all I wanted to do was run.

I sighed, resigned, and slid into the seat. James closed the door behind us and stared out the window. He didn’t bother trying to touch me again after our awkward embrace upstairs. And yet, he’d told Elena that he now wanted me for sex.

He was buying. I would give him what he wanted. Even though I wanted to run, I would make myself stay. I would go to the remaining events and the wedding, and then I would spend the following week on the beach with his family. I would pretend to be his adoring girlfriend. I would bend over backward for him, come when he called, and suck his co**ck so hard he would have an atomic orgasm. If that’s what he wanted.

We drove over the bridge and back into the city. The early-morning traffic was just picking up. I looked up at the buildings in the Financial District, and I remembered how he’d wrapped his arms around me last night, the way he’d looked at me. I thought I’d seen something in his eyes, something that mirrored what I’d been feeling. My heart twisted. It was all a lie, and it was no one’s fault but my own. I’d lied to myself, and I could no longer pretend that there was something between us.

Don’t think about it, I warned myself.

If I’d ever felt like a whore, it was now.

* * *

James ignored me the rest of the way to the Stratum. He ignored me in the lobby and in the elevator, opting instead to send out texts furiously on his phone.

That was fine by me.

I’d only been gone from the apartment for a little while, but it didn’t seem the same when I came back. It seemed colder, less inviting. Exactly like James.

“Where’s the dinner tonight?” I asked, willing my voice to stay neutral.

“This afternoon is actually the photo shoot, followed by a co**cktail hour,” he said. “Evie somehow wrangled New England Brides Magazine into featuring the wedding in an upcoming issue. They want to get pictures of the families and the wedding party ahead of time. Then we’re going for drinks somewhere in the Leather District. I’d like you to come, of course,” he said.

“Of course,” I said. Anything he asked of me, I was going to do. I was here to perform.

He put down his phone and looked at me. “You seem like you’re being… accommodating,” he said. There was an undercurrent to his voice that tugged at me.

I shrugged. “I’m here to do whatever you want, James. I’m yours for the next nine nights.”

“Is that all I have left?”

“If I’m doing the math right,” I said.

He walked over to me slowly. I noticed for the first time that he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, not his customary suit, and that he hadn’t shaved. He looked a little rough around the edges. It was only a few hours ago that he’d held me in his arms, his skin on my skin. Heat pooled in my belly as he approached me, but an icy fear circled my heart. I didn’t want to want him. I didn’t want to look at his big stupid biceps and the shadow of a sexy beard forming on his face.

He came close to me and then stopped. I froze in fear, worried he was going to touch me, worried that I was going to have to perform already, when I couldn’t even bear to be near him like this. “We have all day before the shoot. I have to make a few more calls, but then I’m free,” he said. “What would you like to do?”

I looked at him and shivered. Was it really only a few days ago that we went to the Red Sox game, laughing and drinking beer? Was it really only last night that he’d made love to me and run his hands down my body reverently? Things between us had changed so quickly that I had emotional whiplash.

“Whatever you’d like, James,” I said, hoping I sounded obedient.

“I’ll see you in my bedroom in fifteen minutes, then,” he said. His face was impassive, and his voice gave nothing away.

I wanted to run from the apartment, screaming. I didn’t want this. “Of course,” I said, squashing my feelings. I didn’t want this, but I needed it. Knowing the difference was what being an adult was all about.

That’s why being an adult sucked so hard.

I left and went to my room so that I could change. I chose some expensive lingerie that Elena had packed for me. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. If a whore was what he wanted, a whore was what he was going to get.

* * *

The one trick that Jenny had taught me was to think of it like a movie. If it was bad, she’d said, pretend you were watching it and that it was happening to someone else. If the movie took a turn for the worst and got really scary, just close your eyes, she said. Then it would be as if it never happened.