“Everyone loves the party scene, but the food and history are what I love. It’s amazing. I miss living there.”
“Why did you leave?”
She lowers her fork and sits back in her chair. “My mom died when I was sixteen. I came here to live with my father.”
“You’re half-Scottish?”
“I am.”
That’s unexpected. “Do you still live with your father?”
“I did until I was twenty-one. That’s when they stopped paying for my education and cut me off. And as if that weren’t enough, they kicked me out of their house. My stepmother hates me.”
“Why?”
“Because I breathe? Because my father had a child with another woman? Because he had a life before her and I’m the proof? Take your pick. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“That’s how you ended up at Inamorata?”
“Yes. I can graduate with my degree in two more semesters, but I can’t afford tuition on a waitress’s wages. When I found out that I could earn enough money over the summer to pay for school and avoid a student loan, I jumped at the chance.”
Beautiful and intelligent. “What is your major?”
“English language and literature. I want to be a writer.”
“What kind of writer?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
I get the impression that she’s holding back the truth. But I ignore the feeling and let it go.
Her eyes are on mine and for the first time I notice her unusual eye color. I thought they were brown, but I see that I was only partially right. They’re more green than brown and there is a ring of gold around her pupil. And I also notice that her hair isn’t a single shade of brown; it’s full of honey-colored streaks, especially around her face.
“Is Lou your real name?”
She grins. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. You don’t look like a Lou to me.”
“What do I look like?”
“Emily?”
“No.”
“Isabelle?”
“No.”
“Are you going to tell me your real name?”
“No.”
That’s a lot of noes. “You know my real name. I would like to know yours.”
“We don’t tell clients our real names. It’s for our protection.”
“I understand why you wouldn’t tell a typical client, but I’m not going to be like the other men who seek the services of Inamorata. You’re going to be with me for three months. We’ll come to know each other well.”
“I haven’t said yes.”
“No, but you’re going to.”
One of her brows lifts. “Cocky much?”
“Confident. There’s a difference.”
“It’s better if you know me as Lou.”
I’m going to let this name thing go for now, but I intend on finding out her real name before this relationship is over.
“Will you tell me about yourself or will that be a secret too?”
“I’ll continue to tell you things about my life as long as it’s nothing specific that would identify me.”
She’s a mystery and, damn, if that’s not a fucking turn-on.
“Tell me what your idea of the girlfriend experience is.” She nibbles her bottom lip and somehow manages to look both innocent and seductive at the same time.
“Our time together would be spent having conversations, sharing our passions and dreams, laughing, enjoying dinner or a movie. Forgetting the world around us.”
“What about the physical aspect?”
“I’d like to begin with simple contact, swapping subtle touches back and forth.”
“Open-mouthed kissing?”
“Aye. And when you’re comfortable enough for things to progress, I’d like our intimate time in the bedroom to be romantic and intense and passionate.”
“With eye contact?”
That question makes it sound as though she has already given this much thought.
“Only when it feels natural. I wouldn’t want it to be forced.”
I know next to nothing about her. But I know that when I look at her, I feel alive again. This woman has bewitched me. I want her. She has to say yes. I won’t take no for an answer.
5
Caitriona Louden
Rachel is out with a client. I have no idea when she’ll be back, but I’m relieved to be alone. I need peace and quiet after tonight’s meeting with Maxwell Hutcheson. My thoughts are running in a million different directions at once.
Sleep doesn’t come easily. I stare at the ceiling for hours because I can’t stop thinking about the man with pale blue eyes and what he wants from me.
The girlfriend experience. It’s an intriguing proposal, almost as though our relationship would be scripted. No surprises. No fear of being hurt. No heartbreak. Most importantly, I would already know the terms of when and how things would end.
Being with a stranger is frightening, but Hutch somehow manages to put me at ease. What is it about him that I find comforting? His kind eyes and facial expressions? His soft voice? His dry sense of humor? All of it combined?
I eventually fall asleep, only to be awakened by Rachel sneaking into my bedroom again. I look at the clock: 8:27 a.m. This shit is getting old, but at least she made it to a reasonable hour this time. “Please tell me that this is the last time you’re going to wake me up like this.”
She collapses on my bed beside me. “I make no promises.”
Placing my pillow over my head, I groan. “Go away.”
“No. I want to hear all about your date with Mr. Girlfriend Experience.”
“He had his driver bring me to the Waldorf, and I was instructed to go up and meet him in his room.”
“Wow. He wasted no time trying to get you into bed.”
It’s only natural that she’d draw that conclusion. “The room wasn’t for sex. It was for in-room dining because he can’t take me to a restaurant or any other place where we could be seen together.”
“Oh. Well, that part of the arrangement sucks, but I guess it goes along with his MO.”
“I was pissed off about being summoned to a hotel room until he explained why he had me come there.”
“I assume that you spoke more in-depth about his proposal? What are your thoughts about it now?”
“We used the time to become better acquainted with one another, and I must admit that I’m leaning toward the idea of saying yes. But having sex with someone I don’t love? I’m not sure I can do that.”
“You slept with Cameron and look at how much you hate him now.” No truer words have ever been spoken.
“Valid point.”
“You’re overthinking this. The guy’s rich and he promises you what could be the best three months of your life. I wish a client would make me an offer like that.”
Rachel and I look at one another when we hear the knock on our flat’s door.
“Who the fuck is here this time of morning?” she says.
She just got home from a date, which is a little worrisome. “Do you think your client followed you home?”