Would they object to me just being a fly on the wall while they bantered and joked as if they’d been friends all along and had never broken up? I loved that they still hung out. Cole was one of those people who stayed friendly with pretty much everyone he’d ever dated. He’d had one disastrous breakup his first year out of high school, but otherwise, things almost always ended on good terms. I wished I knew how he did that. My exes and I… Well, there was a reason I was only friends with one of them on Facebook. We’d broken up because he’d taken a job in Phoenix and neither of us had wanted me to move with him. So we’d stayed friendly. I’d managed to keep it friendly with like three for a while, but that hadn’t lasted, and the others were assholes who probably thought about as highly of me.
Bryce and Cole, though? They were good. And maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to Bryce about modeling. I’d been told I could swing it. I was too short for the runway, but print? I could probably do that.
Though… maybe not. Cole had abandoned modeling because he didn’t like the bullshit, the politics, and—more than anything—the occasional creepy photographer. It said a lot that he was more comfortable working as an escort than with some of the photographers in this town. I’d mostly had good luck with clients. Did I really want to chance it with photographers?
On the other hand, did I have a lot of choice? Because I wasn’t exactly working as an escort right now, and my bank and creditors didn’t give a whole lot of fucks about if the money came from someone creepy as long as they got paid.
Speaking of, I hadn’t checked my bank yet today, and there were a few things that were probably getting ready to clear. I didn’t know how much it would help me sleep, looking at how quickly I’d gone through a big chunk of the money from that hockey player, but now that I was thinking about it, the anxiety would drive me nuts if I didn’t check.
So, I took out my phone.
On the screen was a notification from Emerald City. It had come through a couple of hours ago, but I’d turned my phone on silent before going to class, so I hadn’t heard it.
A new booking?
I sat up so fast my head spun. Holy shit. Right then, I didn’t even care if it was that asshole hockey player, which, knowing my luck, it probably was.
I opened the booking and its accompanying message, and I stared at it. The client was a hockey player, but he wasn’t the asshole who’d given me an aversion to men who played the sport.
I think I jumped the gun, Ethan’s message read. I overthink things sometimes. I’d like to give it another try if that’s an option. If I lose my nerve again, you’ll still get paid. Same as before.
It took a minute or two just to process everything. He really was new to hiring people for sex, wasn’t he? Because he didn’t seem to grasp that he didn’t have to ask my permission or worry that he’d be blacklisted. His credit card hadn’t been declined, so he wasn’t getting turned away. Not by Emerald City, and not by me.
And I’d still get paid? Same as before? Oh my God. Another eight grand? Or even the standard three? The preemptive relief made me waver, and I closed my eyes as I took a few slow, deep breaths.
I was admittedly curious about him, too. What had changed his mind? Had he just gotten cold feet last time? Would tonight be different?
Only one way to find out.
I tapped to the screen that asked me to confirm the booking. For a moment, I stared at it, but really, what was I waiting for? Yes, I was genuinely worried about him and whether he could handle this, but my job was to provide a service. He was an adult who could decide if he wanted that service or not. All I needed to worry about was showing up, doing my job, and getting paid.
That last part was the crux of it, because above all else, there was no avoiding how much I needed to get paid.
So I tapped the button to confirm the booking.
And then I lay back on my bed and basked in how good it felt to be sweating a little less over money.
Chapter 7
Ethan
My phone chimed with a notification, and my heart jumped. I didn’t even have to look to know what it was, but I did anyway:
Your guest code has been entered at the south elevator.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. Luca was here. In under a minute, he’d be at my door. Oh Lord.
Was I ready for this? Was I sure about this?
I hoped so, since there was no turning back now. Not without things being supremely awkward again.
I want this. I want him.
Forget the money. Forget everything.
Just enjoy him like you should’ve done last time.
Outside my front door, the elevator dinged.
Oh fuck. He’s here.
I started toward the door, pretending my heart wasn’t slamming into my ribs. When he knocked, I swore under my breath. I’d been nervous as hell the first time I’d hired him. Those nerves didn’t hold a candle to tonight’s.
With one sweaty hand on the doorknob, I paused to pull myself together—to try to pull myself together—and then I opened the door.
And my heart was immediately pounding for an entirely different reason.
I’d had this picture of him in my head, and I’d thought a few times that if I saw him again, he wouldn’t be as hot as I remembered him. After all, the photos on his profile were clearly professional, and who didn’t remember someone hot through rose-colored glasses, mentally making them out to be hotter than they actually were?
Luca, though…
My God, he was as hot as I’d pictured him. Tonight he’d gone with another dark suit, this one a deep navy blue with a matching shirt. The collar was, as before, unbuttoned, which was sexier than it probably should’ve been. His beard was a little shorter, as if he hadn’t gone many days without shaving this time, and his hair fell over one side of his forehead just right to draw my attention to those dark eyes.
And now might be a good time to stop staring and let him in.
I cleared my throat and stood aside. “Hey. It’s, um… It’s good to see you.”
He smiled as he walked past me. “Likewise.” In my mind, I’d expected a transparently fake customer service smile. The one that says I’m smiling because it’s my job, but inside I’m judging the fuck out of you.
Maybe for Luca, that was what this was, but if so, he was damn good at it. Because wow. That smile.
I shut the door behind us, took a deep breath, and faced him. “So. I know things didn’t quite… I mean, last time, we didn’t—I didn’t…”
The smile warmed a little more. “It’s all right.” He gestured at my living room. “Maybe we should sit down for a few minutes. Just talk and lay down the ground rules.”
For a second, I was surprised by how chill and almost businesslike he was about this. Then I remembered this was business for him, and I probably wasn’t his first skittish client.
“Okay. Sure.” I paused. “Can I get you something? Coffee? A drink? Wait, you’re not supposed to drink when you’re with a client, are you? I’ve got—”
“Ethan.” His voice was as soft as his expression. “Relax. Come on.” He nodded at the couch again. “Let’s sit.”