Billionaire's Escort

“Well, do you remember how I mentioned that my colleague was writing a book about the quarter-life crisis? We were talking a little bit about your situation, and he said that he’d be more than happy to discuss things with you. He’s learned quite a bit from the research he’s conducted, and I think it would be great if you would get in touch with him and set up a time to meet.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said. “Listen, Mom, I am actually kind of busy right now, so I think I better go. If you want to meet up for coffee or something, maybe we can do that.”

“That might be nice,” she said. “My schedule’s pretty busy though. So I don’t want to set anything up yet, but I’ll get back to you. And if you change your mind about Carl and letting him talk to you, just let me know! I think it’d be really good for you. Very helpful. Beneficial. Extremely—”

“Okay, Mom, I get it,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with your writing.”

“Same to you!” she said, a little too jovially.

I tried not to roll my eyes when I hung up the phone. Sometimes my mother felt more like a competitive sister than a mother. Part of me was just dying to call her back and say I just lost my virginity to the hottest guy you have ever seen! but that would just start a whole conversation I didn’t want to have with her.

And besides. Things were actually going really well for me. Aside from the fact that I still had a stalker, I could not remember a time when I’d been happier. Having sex had suddenly made the world seem like a whole different place, so much more exciting, so many more possibilities.

Chapter Seventeen

Ian

The next morning I was distracted, thinking about Daisy, as I was getting ready for work. I was sitting there at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of cereal, replaying the sex in my mind. It had been hard to wait, that day we went out on the boat—I’d wanted to do her right then and there—but I was big into delayed gratification, so I made her wait. And it had been worth it. More than worth it. It was, of course, making myself wait, too, and my dick had been at about half mast ever since, her being the only thing that I could really think about. That’s exactly what I was thinking about when my phone started going off; I reached over and picked it up without looking at the screen.

“Ian! Finally! Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

I let out a big sigh, right into the microphone, so Annie would probably have to pull the phone away from her ear, it’d be so loud on her end.

“I’ve been busy. I also thought I told you that I’m frankly not interested in having anything to do with you anymore. It didn’t have to be that way, but you knew from the beginning that it was casual, what we had between us.”

“Who’s the new girl you’ve got working for you? I called; a woman answered. I know you’ve hired my replacement.”

“Of course we did. What did you think—I’d start answering the phones there myself? That we’d erect some sort of shrine to you because you were no longer employed there? Give me a fucking break.”

“It was fast, is all I’m saying.”

“At the end of the day, we’re a business, so yeah, we’re going to hire a replacement when there’s a vacancy.”

“I bet she’s hot. Probably not as hot as I am, though.”

“You are hot,” I said. “But you’re also insecure and clingy. And don’t know how to let a good thing last.”

“It’s probably against some sort of law to be sleeping with your employees, you know. You fuck this new one yet?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“But you’re going to.” I could hear the jealousy in her voice.

“You turning green over there?”

“Actually, I am, but not green with envy. Green with nausea.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Go have some ginger ale and lie down.”

“You don’t want to know why I’m nauseous?”

“I’m not interested in playing games with you.”

But I knew what she was going to say, and I started feeling a little nauseous myself. Why did I pick up the phone? Why was I still on it right now?

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

“Bullshit.”