Billionaire's Escort

"No, just leave it. I'll give the maids an extra-large bonus in the morning. Let's go take a shower."

"I don't feel right about just leaving it for them," I fussed. "You go take a shower, I'll stay and clean this up quickly and then I'll join you."

"Are you disobeying me again?" He glared playfully, making a mock angry scowl as he pulled me close and kissed my lips lovingly.

"No, sir. I'll be a good girl." I grinned at him with sparkling eyes and let him lead me upstairs to the shower in his massive bedroom suite.

The hot water felt good on my skin, but there were painful welts on my ass that made me wince when the spray of water hit them.

"I have a salve in my top drawer that will sooth the pain and help them heal faster," he said apologetically.

"I'll find it," I said, as I wrapped a soft towel around my body and left him to enjoy the hot water for a few minutes alone.

The salve was easy to find in his dresser drawer and I sighed with relief as I applied to cool cream to my sensitive skin.

"I don't have anything to put on. You tore my dress," I called out, as I heard Ethan exiting the shower.

"Look in the box under my bed," he called out. I did and found a large box wrapped with a pink paper with a ribbon tied in an intricate bow. Like an eager child on Christmas morning, I ripped into the box and gasped at the beautiful, cashmere pajamas inside, as well as panties and a camisole top. They fit perfectly and felt wonderfully soft on my skin.

Feeling comfy and playful, I jumped on his bed and piled the pillows behind me, so I was sitting up. It reminded me of when I was kid and I would watch television in my parents’ bed. I found the remote control easily on his nightstand and turned it on. An image of Ethan filled the screen. He was being interviewed by a reporter on a popular show.

"Hey, look. It's you!" I cried out happily, but Ethan stuck his head out of the bathroom door and pointed at the cell phone in his hand.

"Someone just called. It might be important."

I knew it would be one of the downfalls of being in a relationship with a billionaire. Ethan would constantly have demands on his time and people desperately needing his attention. The secret would be for me to have something that kept me busy of my own; something that fulfilled me and made me feel happy. My modeling career was the perfect solution.

Since Ethan was on the phone, I decided to enjoy watching the interview. The reporter was talking to him about the party Friday night.

"The All American is an impressive motorcycle, but what everyone's really buzzing about is this ravishing model you have showcasing the bike on the cover and the inside photo spread. Who is she and where did you find her?" the reporter asked, making my heart skip a beat.

"Miss Kayla Brandt. She came into our L.A. offices during our walk-in auditions with no agent and virtually no experience. But when she got on that bike, she just blew me away. You can see she has a natural charm that just lights up the page. When she smiles into the camera, you feel like she's smiling just at you. I knew I had to have her for the cover."

"It looks like the two of you were quite cozy at the launch party. Tell me, is there anything between the two of you?"

"Miss Brandt did a terrific job showcasing the All American in this month's issue of Speed Magazine. I respect her tremendously and felt a real connection with her when we were working together on the cover shoot. So, it was really good to see her again at the party."

"Are the rumors true that you two are now a couple?" the reporter pressed.

I felt my heart leap into my throat. I couldn't wait to hear Ethan validate our relationship on national television. I'd never been one who needed to show off my romantic relationships publically, but this would validate it to everyone who had their doubts (like my mother) that what we had for each other was real. What came next out of Ethan's mouth hit me like a punch to the gut, and made me double over, gasping for breath.

"No, we're just very close friends."

How could he say that? How could he deny our relationship like that, after the weekend at the hotel and now tonight in the dining room?

I realized that my mother had been right. Ethan wasn't invested in our relationship like I was. To him, I was nothing more than the flavor of the month; this issue’s model to fuck and then toss aside when the next issue came out. It made me sick to my stomach, and yet I couldn't stop watching the interview.

Now the reporter was asking him about something different. "Everyone is speculating on the one question you never seem to want to answer. Please tell our viewers now, Mr. Colson: how did you come up with the name of your company, Speed Motorcycles?"

Ethan turned ghostly pale and held up his hand covering the lens. "Sorry, I forgot I have an important video conference with someone half-way around the world that I really can't delay. It would be an insult to them to keep them waiting. Thanks for coming in and thanks for the interview. I love your show. I watch it all the time."

I watched in surprise as Ethan forced the reporter to back out his office and then closed the door in his face.

"There you have it," the reporter said straight into the camera. "Why won't Ethan Colson answer this simple question? What does he have to hide? All I can say for certain is, he won't be able to keep it secret

for long."

The interview ended, and I shut off the television. It dredged up all the things I wanted to talk to Ethan about. Why wouldn't he reveal how he had come up with the name of his company? What was the secret addiction Gwyneth had forewarned me about in the lobby of the hotel? What was I to him? Was I a girlfriend like he had told his friends at the party or nothing more than a fling like he had told the reporter?