She holds her hand out to me. “My name is Sasha.”
I chew as fast as I can so I can answer. Shaking her hand, I say, “Pleasure to meet you. Katie.”
“Katie? That’s cute. You have a fresh face; there’s something so innocent about you. I can see why the agency hired you.”
Agency? Uh oh.
I smile, popping a larger piece of bread in my mouth. It’s delicious and I don’t care what agency I have to pretend to be a part of to finish this meal. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Don’t you think for a second that I can’t remember my first conference and how it felt to be the new girl. Now I come every year and I always keep my eyes out for a newbie. Can you believe I’ve been an escort for five years?”
Escort? The bread lodges in my throat and to my humiliation, a hacking cough ensues.
Concern etches in Sasha’s face and she calls for a waiter to bring me water. He hurries over with a glass and I wash down the bread. “Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver.”
“It’s okay to be nervous. Don’t worry, they’ll go over all the rules and ins and outs of the business. You’ll be much more relaxed once you know what to expect.” A clipboard is being passed around the table. Sasha points at it with a long, hot pink fingernail. “And don’t forget to fill that out. You need to be registered, or this is all just a waste of time.”
A black-haired beauty in a blue dress smiles at me, passing me the clipboard. Should I fill it out, or just make an excuse and get up and leave, sprinting from the room? While I’m deciding, I take another bite of the beef. It melts in my mouth, nourishing my very soul. I’ve been living off cups of noodles for weeks and my body demands that I stay at least long enough to finish this meal.
It’s pretty basic stuff, really. Name, email address. Like signing up for the grocery store discount card. I fill out the information sheet on the clipboard. Sasha peers over my shoulder with the diligence of a mother hen and under her watchful eye, I find myself putting my real name, address, and phone number on the sheet.
I figure, no big deal, I’ll never see this place again, and I take another bite from my plate.
The girls around me talk, idle chatter flows as I devour my food. They take dainty bites, moving morsels about their plates with the prongs of their forks.
A woman who looks to be in her early thirties with perfectly coiffed ice blonde hair and five-inch stilettos glides across the stage in a crimson red dress. It’s perfectly cut to encase her curves, made of what looks to be a fine silk, the material slipping and sliding over her skin as she moves.
Making my own red dress suddenly feel like a burlap sack.
“Welcome, Empowered Women of Vegas.” She raises her hands in the air and a cheer rises in the room to meet them. “I’m Miranda, founder of Sugar Daddies Escort Service and sole company owner for over ten years running.”
Sasha leans over, whispering into my ear. “She’s a legend. Can you believe she came in person to address us?” Light shines from Sasha’s eyes as she gazes on Miranda, clearly a heroine of hers.
Miranda wastes no time getting down to business. “I like all my girls to hear the rules from me, first and foremost.”
“The rules for being an escort?” I whisper to Sasha to clarify.
“Mmhmm,” she nods, never taking her gaze from the stage.
“First of all, professionalism. Though you may be dressed as a duckling in cosplay, or wearing handcuffs around your wrists, always remember to maintain that professional air. Though the world may look down upon us as working girls, we know we are, in fact, career women.”
Another huge cheer erupts in the room.
Wait, what? Duckling?
Handcuffs?
She holds out a manicured hand to tame the crowd. “Secondly, always be polite. Retain control but know your limits. It’s a tricky balance but after you get a few dates under your belt, you’ll be a pro.”
Sasha nods. “It’s true.”
Miranda makes a stern face, her gaze heavy as it scans the crowd. “And the final rule, albeit the most important… say it with me ladies—”
The room is filled with the deafening sound of the women chanting in unison. “Never! Fall! In! Love!”
“Good girls,” she says, a smile of pride on her face. “Now, I’ll let you finish your meals, and then we’ll hear from our etiquette master, who will go over the most important points of manners in the bedroom.”
When Miranda steps down from the stage, the other girls dab at their mouths with their linen napkins, taking the break to refresh their lipsticks and glosses.
I take another approach, shoveling in my last piece of bread and going up to the buffet for a refill.
When I return to my seat, I find a man in a black tuxedo standing by my chair. He stares directly at me. Sasha stands by his side, giving me a curious look. “Katie?” she says.
Busted. Damn. Now I’m going to be kicked out in front of all of these people. Should I take my plate of food with me?
“Yes,” I answer, offering a sweet smile. I place my plate on the table, licking off a bit of gravy that’s dribbled onto my thumb. “Can I help you?”
She gives a side nod to the waiter. “This gentleman has come down here looking for you. Apparently, Mr. Morrow’s requested you.” Her words cause a stir at the table, women whispering between themselves, their kohl-lined eyes looking up at me, wide in disbelief.
Brushing breadcrumbs from my lips, I manage an, “Um... what?”
Morrow... now why do I find that name to be familiar?
Sasha puts a hand on my shoulder, leaning in and whispers into my ear, “Darius Morrow.” When she sees my blank stare, she rolls her eyes. “The owner of the hotel. Babe, the billionaire? You mustn’t keep him waiting.”
Darius Morrow… the man who tripped my heart across a computer screen... wants… me?
Chapter 2
Darius
So much for my resolve.
Jesus.
It was just another night of work, supervising the going ons at my hotel, until... her. I’ve told myself I’m done with dating. I’ll focus my energies on amassing wealth, buying properties, and leave the whoring around to my brother.
She isn’t my type, but the second I got one look at the gorgeous, curvy little blonde, I lost my mind. Gold glitter shimmers on her lids, a hint at a playful personality, and her full lips are bright, cherry red. I want to bite those lips and suck them until she keens with pleasure and begs for more.
Pulling Miranda’s assistant to the side, I make my wishes clear. Giving me a tight nod, she hurries off to do my bidding. Leaving me with a few moments to return to my penthouse and prepare for my dessert.
It’s been so long since I’ve taken a woman to the privacy of my own room, I can’t help but cast a discriminating eye around the place. The large plate-glass windows in front of me overlook the enormous pools below, lit up with amethyst lights at night, dancing with an ethereal glow on the white tiles around the perimeter.
I hired a decorator and told her what I like. Simple lines, modern furniture, elegant and functional. But this is Vegas, Baby. And in Vegas, we do things right. There’s a whirlpool tub that overlooks the pools, beside the fully stocked bar. Plush towels sit in a basket beside the pool, with understated vases of greenery lending an air of sophistication.