James shrugged. “They would hate you a lot more if they knew you were a whore—an escort. But yes, they’ll hate you anyway, or at least dismiss you, because you’re not from their world.”
“Your world,” I said.
He shook his head at me. “That’s not my world. My world is self-made. I didn’t use their money for what I’ve built. I did it myself. And I’m not interested in what country club anyone belongs to, or what boarding school they went to. My parents are more invested in society than they are in anything.”
“Maybe we should say my family was really wealthy,” I said, shrugging.
“Wealthy isn’t good enough. It’s about the right people, Audrey, not how much money the people have. It’s who your parents knew and where they went to school and what boards they sat on. If just money was good enough, then I’d be good enough.”
I was quiet for a second, wanting to remember every word he said. He was a puzzle I had to piece together. One part was clear: his family sucked. I was sure about it, and I hadn’t even met them yet.
He must have seen the look on my face because his own face relaxed into a smile. “It won’t be that bad, Audrey. They’re civilized. They won’t say anything bad to your face—they have manners. They’ll stab you in the back instead. It shows how well-bred they are. They adhere to that rule no matter how many vodkas they’ve had.”
“Awesome,” I said, dreading it all now almost as much as he was.
“Don’t say ‘awesome’ in front of Celia,” he said. “We want you to stay off her radar. The further off, the better.”
“Okay,” I mumbled quickly. I hadn’t even met her, but I already knew that Celia Preston was not someone I wanted to mess with.
James went back to looking out the window, and I regarded his handsome profile. I was starting to sweat, and it had nothing to do with how hot he was.
“So how do we win this?” I blurted out.
James laughed and turned back to me. Instead of seeing a large dollar sign where his head was supposed to be, I saw his gorgeous face, the lines next to his mouth deepening. “How do we win?”
I nodded at him, mentally kicking myself for my mouth that never seemed to stay shut when it should. “What is it you want from these two weeks? What’s your best outcome?” I asked.
James shrugged as he considered me. “Let’s see how it goes this afternoon. I’ll tell you after that.”
“Fair enough, James.”
“Fair enough, Audrey.”
The car went down another street into Back Bay and smoothly pulled up to a curb in front of The Stratum Hotel. The hotel was new to Boston and very chic, way outside my pay range. I’d had a couple dates over here, though. Two hedge-fund managers and a music producer. No one I wanted to remember.
I hoped no one on staff would remember me.
“I thought you said we were going to your apartment,” I said, confused.
“I have a condominium here. It makes it easier. The hotel handles everything, and I don’t have to worry. Plus, it has housekeeping and room service.”
A hotel doorman appeared and opened the door for James. He got out and held his hand out for me; I forcibly ignored the shock waves that his touch sent through me. If he changed his mind about the sex, that would be more than fine with me.
In fact, it would probably be for the best. Every man I’d ever slept with had now become a John. They all blurred together. Maybe it would be better if James wasn’t quite so…special.
Kai rolled down the window, and I nodded at him. “See ya later,” I called, and turned to find James frowning at us.
“Have the bags sent up,” James snapped at Kai.
“Easy, buddy,” I said. “We won’t gang up on you. I promise.” I reached for his hand again and twined my fingers through his; he immediately tried to pull back as we went through the doors to the opulent lobby of the hotel.
“Uh-uh,” I said, gripping his hand more tightly. “We need to practice. Gotta look natural.” I turned and looked at the grand room: it was just like I remembered it. Marble floors, marble columns, teak woodwork accents in unexpected places. It was beautiful and pristine.
I needed an apartment with a lobby like this.
I would have to suck a lot of cock to be able to afford it.
That thought made me burst out laughing.
“What?” James asked, wrinkling his brow at me.
“You don’t even want to know.” I laughed some more as the desk clerks nodded to us. “Mr. Preston,” one of the female clerks said. I might have imagined it, but she seemed to be sticking her chest out at him.
James pressed the button for the elevator.
“What floor are you?” I asked, sticking my chest out at him.
“The top.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Of course you are.”
“Of course I am, is right.” He squeezed my hand. “Don’t be fresh, Audrey. I thought we were in love.”
“Part of being in love is calling people out when they act pretentious,” I said as the elevator rose silently.
“I’m not in love with you, so I won’t tell you you’re stepping outside your pay grade,” he said in a warning tone. “Stop being so honest. You’re about to hurt my feelings, and I don’t have any.”
“You’re the boss,” I said, laughing a little. Being alone with him in the elevator wasn’t helping my attraction to him, or my curiosity. I hoped he couldn’t hear my stupid, wildly pounding heart.
This was the thing. The thing that I was working through in my head, as I held hands with my newest, sexiest, richest John in the history of all my Johns—and there were a lot, mind you. James was gorgeous. Any breathing heterosexual woman would instantly agree to that. He had huge shoulders, a square chin, and steel-blue eyes. On top of all this, he was tall, and from what I could guess was going on under his thousand-dollar-plus suit, he appeared to be devoted to working out, damn him.
None of this would have me all that excited. Although I did like his hair, too…it was steel-colored, neither brown nor black, some in-between color of thick, wavy, glossy godliness, gelled back just enough to keep it off his face.
But wait! I was getting off track here, again. Nothing about his looks, not even that glossy hair, was that thrilling to me. I’d been with lots of good-looking men, and while it sometimes made the job a little easier, I’d found that the good-looking ones were just as likely to be assholes as the plain-looking ones. In my experience, they were actually a little nastier. Maybe because they’d had everything handed to them their whole lives, and it still wasn’t working out for them.
His looks weren’t what was troubling me.
The fact that when he touched me my body responded with heat didn’t bother me, either. That was one good thing about hooking, aside from the money: I usually enjoyed the sex, as long as the John was decent and relatively kind.
I also liked good-looking men with big shoulders and big…hands, which James had. Not that I’d been studying them in the car or anything, wondering if he was going to break down eventually and let me see what else he had that might be big…
I was getting off track again. What I wanted to say, in one complete and uninterrupted thought, was what worried me about James, and what was going to happen over the next two weeks, was that he seemed almost normal. Like someone I could talk to. Like someone I might need to help.