Page 24 of Vanessa’s Bravery

This shouldn’t have happened. He should have never developed feelings for a woman who sold her body to anyone who could afford her. And by the looks of it, the young guy—who was at least ten or fifteen years younger than Cole—had plenty of it. Owning a sportscar that wasn’t even practical in a city like San Francisco was the privilege of the rich and entitled, the trust fund babies who’d never done an honest day’s work.

Cole hit his fists against the steering wheel in frustration. He needed to do something, before this situation got any worse. He had to stop Vanessa from servicing any more clients. That was his first priority. Just like tech companies hired talented engineers so that their competitors couldn’t hire them, he would hire Vanessa so that nobody else could hire her. Yes, take her off the market first, worry about what to do later. That was the best plan he could come up with right now—because for sure his brain wasn’t functioning properly.

He was livid that Vanessa had slept with another man—even though he had no right to demand exclusivity. But he was determined to change that.

Aware that the engine was still running, he switched it off, then reached for his cell phone. He unlocked it and scrolled to Vanessa’s number. His index finger hovered over it, his heart pounded like a jackhammer, and he breathed erratically. Fuck, he had it bad.

Get a grip, man!

Why was he so nervous? Was he actually worried that she wouldn’t agree to see him?

Coward!

He tapped on the number and put the phone to his ear. It rang twice.

“Cole?” Vanessa’s melodic voice made his heart gallop even faster.

“Vanessa, I need to see you.” Way to start a conversation. An elephant in a China shop showed more finesse than him.

“Is something wrong?”

Lots of things were wrong, but none of them were suitable to be discussed over the phone. “It’s important that I see you right away.”

“I can’t get away right now. Has something happened?”

“It’s really urgent. Please, Vanessa. I need to talk to you.”

She sighed. “I can’t get away. I’m—”

“It can’t wait. Please.”

“You’re making me worried now. All right. But I can’t come to you. You need to come to me.”

“No problem.”

“The address is 2447 Pacific Avenue in Pacific Heights.”

“I should be there in about five minutes.”

“See you then.” She disconnected the call.

He shoved the cell phone back into his pocket and leaned back, forcing himself to breathe evenly. He looked across the street at the Victorian mansion Vanessa had disappeared in. It was the number she’d given him. That she was willing to receive him there could only mean that she wasn’t with a client at the moment. But before this news could calm him, another question arose. What if this mansion was just like the one Vera ran in Nob Hill? What if this was a different brothel, and Vanessa split her time between this place and Vera’s? After all, a beautiful young woman had left the mansion just after Vanessa had arrived, and had gotten into the Lamborghini. What if she was a prostitute too?

Before his mind could spit out even more questions and scenarios, he got out of the car and locked it. He crossed the street and walked up the stairs to the entrance door of the stately Victorian.

He stood there, unsure of what he would encounter inside. He sucked in a loud breath, then let it out through his nostrils, while he chided himself in silence. This wasn’t how one closed a deal: by showing fear. No, he had to go in there and be assertive, lay out what he wanted, and what he was willing to pay to get it. It was a simple negotiation. A business deal. Vanessa was in the business of selling sex, and he was a willing and able buyer. Nothing more, nothing less.

Cole rang the doorbell and heard it chime inside the house. It only took a few moments, until the door was opened, and light was shining into his face. He blinked. Vanessa stood in front of him.

“Hi.” Her voice sounded like a faint echo as if she were an apparition, but her eyes sparkled in that intoxicating green that made her look like a fairy who would make all his wishes come true.

He had it bad. Really bad.

“Vanessa.”

She stepped aside, motioning him to enter. Cole walked inside, and he heard her close the door behind him, while he assessed his surroundings. With the eye of a discerning buyer who’d viewed many properties when he’d been looking to buy a home in San Francisco, he realized that while the style was most definitely quintessential Victorian, this house was newly built, which must have cost a fortune. The other thing he noticed was that it was quiet. He heard neither footsteps nor voices.

Vanessa turned to him. “Why did you need to see me so urgently?”