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Even though it wasn’t real.
Wasn’t true.
Sometimes hope was all we had in life, and tonight, I was going to pretend that the handsome man staring across this long, expensive table at me, actually liked me.
That he wasn’t paying me to be here.
That he wanted nothing more in this world than to have me sit across the table from him.
Forever.
“Come here, Eve,” he said, his voice like rich, dark chocolate, covering me with his sweet, smooth words. He stood up and my poor heart began beating incredibly fast. His hand reached toward me, and I knew I had to do as he asked.
So, I rose on my shaky legs and slowly moved toward him with uncertain steps.
He had a smile on his face, but there was an intensity there as he gazed at me that I was unfamiliar with. It concerned me being unable to tell what he was thinking.
I hadn’t known him very long, but I’d been able to interpret his moods pretty well so far.
Except for the one he was in right now.
“Your name is Eve?” he asked me again, grasping onto my hand more tightly than usual. “Your real, given name?” His eyes bore into mine with such intensity I hated to admit it—but he scared me right now. I could feel some kind of fierce current surrounding him, radiating from every pore in his body. “Answer me,” he said in a louder voice, demanding a response.
“Yes, my name is Eve,” I said in a tiny, whisper-like voice that I didn’t recognize. “I didn’t mean to anger you. I’m sorry for making you mad on your birthday.” I felt tears begin to form behind my eyes and my throat became so incredibly dry.
Nick stared at me for another few seconds before he turned and said, “Follow me.”
And it wasn’t exactly like I had much of a choice. He pulled me along behind him and I had to nearly jog to keep up—which was interesting in these heels.
We got to the bottom of the stairs, and he started up them at nearly the same speed.
I prayed I wouldn’t fall.
If it had been under different circumstances, I’d ask him to slow down. But with the way his mood was right now, I didn’t dare blink without his express written consent.
I was almost a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t hurt me.
In my line of business, you never quite knew if one of your clients might snap at any given moment. I tried my best to do what I was told, however sometimes it really didn’t matter.
Some guys were just out to hurt.
And it didn’t matter what you did or didn’t do.
They’d find some fault with you to justify their bullying behavior.
Luckily, it didn’t happen often.
My agency screened its potential clients as best they could.
Nothing was ever guaranteed.
The only good part about it was if a guy did get rough with you—or worse—then they’d instantly be removed from the list.
Spending time with one of us cost a pretty penny, and most of the guys appreciated a willing woman to fulfill their fantasies.
And others only wanted to hear you scream and cry.
It was messed up.
