NicWhat the fuck am I doing?
Standing in the middle of Elle’s bed- room like an idiot, that’s what.
I can’t believe I came inside. I should have just dropped her off and gone back to my place. But now here I am, more turned on than I have been in months, and waiting for the girl I want to come back from the bathroom so we can finish what we started the moment we got through the door. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where that ac- tion is heading.
What was I thinking?
Pushing my hands through my hair, I start pac- ing the room.
Maybe there’s still a way out of this. My dick
won’t be happy about it, but I can tell Elle I’d rath- er take things slow. Give her a kiss good-bye and be done with it. Once she’s done in the bathroom, I’ll gather all the self-control I have and shut this down. It’s the only option.
As I pass by the bathroom door, I can hear Elle coughing. The sound doesn’t stop, and when I real- ize she’s retching, my stomach drops. This is my fault. She told me she was a lightweight. Told me that she never drank very much. I should have kept a closer eye on her, made sure she didn’t drink too much.
I rush through the door and find her hunched over the toilet, and the helpless look on her face makes my heart ache. With one hand, I pull her hair away from her face, holding it loosely between her shoulder blades. I use the other to rub the straining muscles on her back, tense from vomiting.
Elle takes one look at me and starts sobbing, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my God, Nic, I’m so sorry. I should have been better than this. It’s just that I, like, never drink,” she says between breaths.
“Don’t apologize. This shit happens to every- one every once in a while,” I reply, brushing a few stray hairs away from her face.
She sniffles and nods, mustering a weak smile before flushing the toilet and rising to her feet. I help her to the sink, where she brushes her teeth.
When she’s done, I carry her back to her room and seat her on the edge of her bed. Once she’s settled, I go to the kitchen and bring her a tall glass of water and a bottle of aspirin, placing them on her bedside table.
Her watchful gaze follows me, and I’m relieved that at least my straining erection has died down.
“Can I help you change?” I ask. Elle nods, remaining quiet.
I unzip the back of her gown, and she stands so it falls to the floor in a puddle around her bare feet. I keep my eyes trained on her red-painted toe- nails to avoid looking at the curve of her hips or the creaminess of her full breasts.
“What do you like to sleep in?” I ask, my voice thick.
“Just a T-shirt, please. Second drawer.”
I cross the room to her dresser and open the drawer she’s indicated. I pull out a soft gray T-shirt and hand it to her.
After tucking her in, I leave one last kiss on her forehead and tell her good night.
As I drive home in silence, my mind spins with everything that happened between Elle and me to- night. How could I have been so stupid? I’m getting lazy. Careless. I’m supposed to be a professional, but tonight I felt like anything but. This isn’t like me. And I need to get my shit together—fast.
Once home, I strip off my tuxedo and hang it up, then brush my teeth, eager to get some shut- eye. Despite how many of my rules I broke by kiss- ing Elle on the mouth and going home with her, at least things didn’t go any further than that. Because as much as I want to believe that I’m the kind of man who has an endless supply of self-control and discipline, if Elle had wanted to fuck me, there’s no way I would have been able to say no.
If tonight confirmed anything for me, it’s that Elle hits all my weak spots, even the ones I didn’t know I had.
I grab my phone before tucking in for the night and shoot Elle a quick text to check in on her. I doubt she’ll even text me back tonight—she’s prob- ably passed out—but I like the idea of her waking up knowing I was thinking about her.
Fuck, I really am screwed with this one.
At work the next day, I have my usual meeting with Case to go over my clients for that week and make sure everything is running smoothly. We’ve been going over business as usual for half an hour when he leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow at me.
“Hey, how did it go with that chick who didn’t know you’re being paid to date her?”
I sigh and push my hand through my hair. Not exactly the direction I wanted this meeting to go. “It was fine. You know how it is—another day, an- other client. She didn’t seem to catch on.”
Case nods but doesn’t reply right away, eye- ing me for a few awkward seconds. “Was the client happy with how it went?”
My mind flashes to Christine pulling me aside at the wedding, basically yelling at me for being too good at my job. She totally got in my head about everything between Elle and me, and now that I think about it more, I think her yelling at me was partly why I decided to go home with Elle af-
ter all, rules be damned.
But I can’t let Case know any of that.
I shrug. “I think the lying part freaked her out a little by the end. But hey, she paid in full, so no complaints here.”
He eyes me again, then crosses his arms. “Something’s different with this chick, man. It’s written all over your face. What, did you break one of your precious rules?”
I grit my teeth, instantly furious with how well Case knows me.
Asshole.
“Nothing happened. Now, if you’re done grill- ing me, I have work to do.” Pushing my chair back, I stand to leave.
Case smirks at me and cocks his head to the side. “All right, whatever you say. Just don’t ever tell me I’m not the kind of boss who’s here to lis- ten.”
I roll my eyes and march toward the living room.
I know he’s just trying to help, but Case is the last person I want to talk to about all this. For as
much as he likes to work me to the bone—pun in- tended—he’s always trying to get me to loosen up a little bit, have more fun on the job. Too bad I’m learning really quickly just how much trouble a little fun can get you.
I check the time. Four thirty. Time for me to pick up my Sunday regular.
Every Sunday I take Esther, my oldest client, to dinner at her country club. It’s not sexual, by any means—not that I’m here to judge anyone for their age preferences. I just pretend to be her charming and successful grandson to impress her snooty old friends. Probably the easiest money I make in this job, especially since I see these rich pricks enough to know just what to say to get Esther in good with them, and make them jealous because none of their grandchildren give them the time of day.
Today I’m dressed in a cream-colored linen suit and a pale gingham checked button-down. I look every bit like a spoiled, wealthy heir. Basi- cally, I fit right in.
When I enter the dining room, Esther is already there, dressed in a baby-blue sundress, reaching her aged-spotted hands toward me as a smile over- takes her mouth.
“There’s my handsome grandson,” she says, a little more loudly than necessary.
I chuckle and return her warm embrace. “Good to see you. How was your week, Gram?”
She winks at me, one heavy-lidded blue eye dancing with knowing mischief. “Just peachy.”
“Excellent. Now, are you ready for dinner?”
I offer her my arm and we stroll into the dining room. She waves to a few of her friends from her book club as we head to our usual table.
Once we’re seated, a tuxedo-clad server deliv- ers two goblets of ice-cold water and a basket of warm bread. Esther doesn’t drink, and so neither do I when I’m with her. We each order the steak- and-lobster special before the server scurries away. Sometimes, I really love the perks of this job.
Most days, we keep dinner conversations light. The weather, the latest drama in her bridge group, that kind of stuff. For as annoying as I find the country club crowd, I’ve grown to like Esther. She’s a little less judgmental than the rest of them, even if she buys into some of their elitist bullshit.
Which is why I’m really not prepared when she asks me about my love life.
“So, Nicky, are you dating anyone?” Just my fucking luck.
I plaster a fake smile on my face while I de- cide how to answer. Normally, I don’t divulge any- thing personal to my clients, but Esther’s different. I know she’s only asking because she genuinely cares, but after Case’s questioning earlier, I’m not up for another conversation about Elle.
Still, Esther is someone I really trust, despite being a client, so I decide to be honest with her.
“Not right now.”
“You’re almost thirty. You’re going to want to settle down soon, aren’t you?”
My face falls at the mention of my age. Way to hit a man right where it hurts.
“First, I’m not almost thirty. I’m only twenty- eight.”
She purses her lips. “Close enough. When I was your age, I’d been married for six years and had three children already.”
I take a sip of my water, stalling for time. “Of course I want to settle down. Eventually. But it’s difficult for someone like me to date. Who would
want a boyfriend who entertains other women for a living?”
Esther smiles, reaching across the table to pat my hand. “You’re a good boy, Nicky. I knew it from the first time we met. Why do you think I keep scheduling these dinners?”
I smile at her, but I don’t take her words to heart. Not really. Part of me is appreciative of her support, but a larger part of me knows she’s just being nice.
“It’s easy to be polite and charming when you’re getting paid to do it.”
She squeezes my hand, her soft, wrinkled fin- gers looping around my palm. “Don’t lose faith. The right girl is out there. There’s someone for you just around the corner. I know it.”
I smile and nod, squeezing her hand back be- fore letting go.
Esther means well, but she must know I’m right—what girl in her right mind would want to get involved with me? Even though I’m a male es- cort, I still want to find love someday.
But that’s not a topic I want to think about right now. So I turn the tables on Esther and ask how her
latest crochet project is coming along. She smiles, and thankfully lets the topic drop.
When I get home later that night, Esther’s words are still ringing in my head. I always thought the idea of soul mates was stupid, that there was no way there was really someone out there for ev- eryone. That people who bought into that shit were chumps.
But after everything that’s happened, meeting Elle and having my whole world shaken to its core?
I don’t know what to think anymore.