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I snorted.
Like I was going to relax?
With a guy like that lurking around?
Earlier, I’d been sleepy, but now I was wide awake—excited and a little scared rather than exhausted.
Wondering what might happen.
I listened for the buzzer, but by the time I’d dressed, and dragged a comb through my hair, Loïc was back with food, sitting in my living room as though I’d given him a key. I definitely hadn’t, and the door had definitely been locked. What kind of man blew through every security guard and locked door wherever he went? Was he bribing his way in? Being charming? Picking locks? Seducing door hardware?
I sat with that mystery, letting it simmer, imagining all sorts of dastardly things he might have done when a simple explanation was likely. As he’d said, he was so handsome people no doubt fell over themselves trying to help him out. I’d seen it before, with stars from other shows I’d had bit partsin. Hell, it had happened often enough with me, but not like it seemed to with him. Not like this.
It was a dangerous power for a man to have.
We ate in companionable silence. He didn’t pressure me to tell him anything or give him the details of my day. There was no curiosity about how the business worked, or what happened behind the scenes. He was the first new person I’d met in a long time who didn’t seem dazzled by my relative fame, now thatRose Redwas popular.
Then again, a man who rarely used a phone probably didn’t have social media. I was no one to him, other than a girl he’d fucked.
“You said you were retired?” I asked, curious.
“I am.”
“You must have done really well for yourself. What line of work were you in?”
“I was a…” The length of his pause made me wonder if he was going to answer me at all. “My therapist says I need to call myself a sex worker, but I was a whore. Remember? I told you that at the club.”
I felt my face heat. No wonder he was so good at what he did.
“You weren’t joking about that.”
“I was not.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a sex worker before.”
“Never?”
“Well, I’m sure I have, but none of them ever told me.” I sipped my drink, wondering if it was rude to ask questions. He didn’t seem bothered. “How did you get into that line of work?”
He finished chewing a bite of food. “I was raised to do it. It helped my mother in her business dealings.”
I tried not to look horrified, but even I wasn’t that good an actor.
“I’m sorry,” he said, picking up his soda bottle and turning it in his fingers, leaving stripes in the condensation. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“There’s no need to be sorry. I’m the one who’s sorry—that it happened to you, and that I pried.”
He took a deep breath and leaned back on the couch. “My brother and I had unconventional upbringings. It makes us odd and awkward, and sometimes we say too much or not enough.” He shrugged. “I try not to make people uncomfortable with my old life, but the truth comes out sooner or later. It’s easier to tell you now so that you know if I’m behaving strangely, it’s not your fault.”
“How long ago did you…retire?” I wasn’t sure how to find the right balance between letting him know I felt horrible for what he’d gone through, but also not make him feel like I was being nosy or pitying him. Nobody wanted pity.
“I retired a few years ago, when I moved to America. After my mother died, I went to search for my brother, and found him and his family, thank god. There weren’t as many Solis-Leducs back then.” He laughed, and his smile was genuine and breathtaking.
“They have a lovely family.”
“It’s the perfect family.”
“It sounds like you’re a little envious.”
