Daddy's Boy (4 page)

“
I merely wondered if it
were possible for me to get to know you better?” Dodger
asked.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. “And why
would you want to do that?” I questioned him. “I’m sure you heard
no less than twenty different rumors about me since I arrived. What
about them made you want to follow me out here? Or were the rumors
what sent you out here? Are you looking for a fantasy, Mr.
Vanderbrook? Are you looking for something specific?” I tilted my
head to the side as I regarded him.

He smirked at me. “You certainly don’t
play coy, do you?”

I shrugged. “Why should I? Everyone in
that room knows who I am and what I do though no one speaks about
it publicly. I have a career, just like they do. I didn't have to
go to a university and get a degree to start mine like they all
did.”

His lips pulled up in a half smile as
he looked at me, and he turned his head to look out across the
garden. “So is that why you’re here, then? To find a new client? I
had heard rumors that your last one… well…”

I chuckled. “He died. You can say it.
It’s not like it's a secret or anything.” It really wasn’t a
laughing matter, and if I were anyone else, a man capable of
indulging in his emotions without worrying someone was going to use
them against him, I might have shown this stranger how much Jack’s
passing hurt me.

But I wasn’t.

So I didn’t.

Instead I feigned disinterest in
Dodger, Jack, our conversation, and with the world as a whole by
turning to look back out across the backyard and sighing. I was
taking a risk. Pushing the apathetic air too much could turn Dodger
off to me completely by making him think I was incapable of
expressing any type of passion outside of the bedroom. I didn't
want that. What I did want was for the alpha male, the hunter
inside Dodger, to rise up and take notice of me, to want to pursue
me. I wanted him to see me as something unattainable, and then I
wanted him to stop at nothing to attain me. I was easy prey, yes,
but I was prey, nonetheless.

“
Don’t do that,” Dodger
said as he stepped closer to me, the heat of his body warmed my
right side. Of their own volition, my eyes slid closed as I reveled
in his scent that smelled faintly of Calvin Klein Truth, soap, and
what must be Dodger’s own manly fragrance. I fought my instinctive
need to press myself against him and roll around in that scent—I
was no man's dog—and forced my eyes open with effort.

“
Don’t do what?” I asked,
clearing my throat with a wince when I heard how husky my voice
sounded.

“
Don’t pretend as if your
last client meant nothing to you,” Dodger said, his voice softer
than it had been and closer to my ear.

The tone of his voice seduced me for a
moment before his words penetrated the fog of my brain. This man
thought he knew me. He knew nothing about me. Regardless of the
fact he was right about my feelings for Jack. Regardless of the
fact my heart felt as if it were shattering because I had to be
back on the market so soon after Jack’s passing. None of that
mattered. I didn’t love Jack, I had an affection for him. We were
friends. I cared for him deeply, and I mourned for him, especially
when he came to me those many months ago and told me he was dying
and what he was killing him. Dodger knew nothing about that. He
knew nothing of my feelings, and he knew nothing of me.

Turning around slowly, I lifted my
head until I could stare him straight in the eyes.

“
You watch too many
movies,” I told him.

He blinked and shook his head.
“What?”

“
You’ve seen too many
movies and watched too much television if you thought you were
going to walk up to the prostitute at the party, say something you
thought was really profound, try to remind him that he has
feelings, and get him to reform.” I scoffed and shook my head. “I
never forgot that I have feelings, Mr. Vanderbrook. I'm all too
aware that I do. Here’s the difference between me and Julia Roberts
in
Pretty Woman
.
I'm not looking for Richard Gere to come and rescue me from my
crappy apartment and dreary life as a prostitute. I
love
what I do.” I
gestured to the party. “I’m invited to the same parties, dinners,
and events you are. I dress just as well as you do; I have an
amazing apartment; I drive a Ferrarri; and I get to make my own
hours. Doing what? Something I love to do.” I shook my head. “I
don’t need to be your charity project, Mr. Vanderbrook, not at all.
I’m more than happy with the way my life is.” I went to walk around
him, aware of the way he turned to watch me walk off. I stopped at
the doors to the house and turned back around to face
him.

“
But, if you ever want to
find out why I make as much as I do,” I said before walking back
toward him. He watched me carefully, and I wanted to laugh at the
way his blue eyed gaze stalked me like a predator. I didn’t
question myself as I glided back toward him and lifted my hands up
around his neck, burying them in his thick and—oh my god, I have
never felt hair like this—soft locks as I pulled his head down
toward my own. I captured his lips with mine and pressed my lips
against his softly, at first.

The kiss quickly turned from a soft
kiss to a hard, punishing kiss, and my mouth opened immediately
when I felt the swipe of Dodger’s tongue against my lips. I moaned
as he plundered the inside of my mouth, lust swamping me like it
never had before. Dodger growled. His hands squeezed my waist
before his hands slid down to grip my ass.

That touch brought me out of my fog as
I remembered where I was and what my goal was. I gentled the kiss
and pushed away from Dodger, backing away from him and putting a
hand on his chest when he tried to pull me back into his
arms.

I smirked at him and winked. “The
first kiss is free. Anything more, and I’m going to have to charge
you.”

That said, I dropped my hand, turned,
and walked back into the house. The seed had been planted. Now I
just had to water it and watch it grow. Until then, I would take on
temporary clients to fill the void while I waited for Dodger to
take the bait.

Chapter Three

I closed and locked the
door behind Barry after he left my condo. Exhaling, I shuddered and
turned and pressed my back against the front door. God I hated
servicing Barry, but I could literally charge him anything I wanted
for the smallest thing, and he would pay it; he was
that
desperate. I may
sound like a cold, heartless bitch, but I wasn’t, and I didn’t take
advantage of Barry.

Even if I wanted to because, every
time he left, I felt the insane urge to scrub my skin until it was
raw and bleeding.

I wrapped my robe tighter around my
naked body and walked down the hallway, counting the money Barry
had left me as a tip in addition to the check he’d written. I
didn’t have to worry about rent—Jack had paid off my condominium
before settling me into it in an effort to make sure he wasn’t
making monthly payments his wife would see. It was where most men
went wrong with their mistresses. Instead of just paying for a
small house or paying for a small condominium, they insisted on
paying the rent month after month. The wife, suspecting her husband
of cheating, snoops through his books, his bank account, or
whatever else she can get her hands on, and she finds out he’s
making a monthly payment to someone.

But my Jack? Oh, he was
smart. He knew he could write off paying for my condo as a
charitable contribution, since I was homeless before. He paid for
my home by
generously
making a donation for a house through his charity that helped
the homeless and then “stumbling” across me and ensuring I was the
one to receive the donation. So while Jack was technically the one
who purchased my abode, on paper it looked as if my condo was
bought by his charity, which was run by a board of directors—all of
whom are clients of mine.

Yeah, even I could hear the sarcasm in
that statement.

But even with having paid for my
condo, Jack still bought me trinkets, flew me all around the world,
and gave me an allowance. He took me to fancy dinners, luncheons,
and a few times he even took me on the same vacations he took with
his family. It might sound skeezy to you, and maybe it was, but
Jack was, or rather he had, denied a part of himself in order to
please his parents, and I was his way of living his truth, of being
happy.

I’m not completely altruistic or
selfless; I’m pretty sure we’ve established that, but I just wanted
you to know I’m not completely selfish, either. Besides, even
though my condo is paid off, I need the money for a very important
reason.

The harsh banging on the front door,
sounding like a herd of lions hunting a herd of gazelle out in the
wilds of Africa, startled me, and I gasped and turned toward the
door.

He was early. He had to be early. I
looked at the clock on the wall and then down at my iPhone which
flashed the time and a text message from the snarling lion on the
other side of my door:

Open up bitch, I’m
here.

I let out a small whimper and pressed
my hands against my stomach as I tried to still the butterflies.
I’d been hoping I could have had one more client before he would
arrive. This man, this lion, the demon banging on my
door.

I lifted a trembling hand to open the
door, before I closed my eyes, chanting my mantra in my head to
calm my nerves, clenching my fingers into a fist and then shaking
them out. Feeling sufficiently calm, I lifted my now steady hand to
the doorknob and opened the door.

I swung it open and looked up into the
dark-brown eyes of my ex-boyfriend, KuJoe. I was pretty sure that
wasn’t his real name, but that was the only name I had ever been
given. It was the only name he’d ever given any of my Johns, and it
was the name I’d threatened to give to the police, along with his
description, when I’d finally decided to leave. KuJoe had told me
another name once before, had sworn it was his real name, but the
one and only time I’d ever used it, I woke up in the hospital with
three broken ribs. I never used it again.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t banked on my
own little secret becoming an issue, and I especially hadn’t
thought KuJoe would keep an eye on me. So when my closely guarded
secret had come out, KuJoe had been right there to capitalize on
it. And he still was. And would continue to do so until I’d paid
off my debt to him. I didn’t want to end up back in the hospital.
I’d seen what KuJoe had done to others, felt the pain from the many
beatings he’d given to me, wound up in the hospital numerous times,
and I had someone I had to protect. No, I had to stay in the
companion game just a little bit longer so I could pay off KuJoe,
keep him quiet, and take care of the most important person in the
world to me.

“
Hey there, Gorgeous. You
gonna give me some sugar today, or you gonna do what you’re known
best for, and get right on your knees and suck my dick?” KuJoe
asked, his voice low and filled with amusement as he looked me up
and down. He shook his head as if disappointed with what he
saw—which I knew he was—and elbowed one of his buddies in the
stomach, gesturing to me. The other guy grunted and muttered
something beneath his breath.

My stomach turned, and I fought the
urge to spit in his face. I wasn’t stupid. KuJoe never traveled
alone. Not only that, I may not be twinkish, I mean I was slim, but
I was slim muscle, but KuJoe was three times my size,
easily.

“
You’re early,” I said, as
I stepped aside to let KuJoe and his three lackeys come into my
home. They weren’t dirty or anything like that. For a pimp and his
three hired thugs, who also sold drugs and ran guns for him, they
were easily the most impeccably dressed criminals I’d ever seen,
but my house was
white
,
and whenever KuJoe left my place,
I spent hours scrubbing the entire condo. I knew it was a
psychological thing, but I didn’t care. I felt filthy and so did my
entire house whenever he was there. I could just see the dirt
surrounding all of them.

“
Whenever I show up is on
time, baby. You should know that,” KuJoe told me as he walked over
and flopped down on my armchair. I cringed and locked the door
before following the men toward the living room.

KuJoe was a burly,
six-foot-five black man who didn’t scream pimp when you looked at
him. He looked like a pastor, with his kind, gentle eyes, his low,
soft voice, and his gorgeous smile. That was probably what made so
many young girls and boys trust him. He spoke about Shakespeare and
Voltaire, listened to Usher, Beyonce, Lorde, SoMo, and Nick Jonas.
He even watched
Empire, Scandal,
and
Sense8.
KuJoe stayed current with the kids he brought
into his web. When he’d trapped me, it was all NSYNC, Backstreet
Boys, and
Beverly Hills
90210
. He listened to me. He understood
me. He commiserated with me. He joked with me. He became the family
I always wanted. He was my pastor. He was the father I’d lost. He
was my friend Pierce who was supposed to meet me in San Francisco
but who’d abandoned me and left me alone in a whole new state. He
was my lover. KuJoe became my everything. He told me I could do
anything and be anything. He believed in me, or so I
thought.