Escorting the Billionaire #1 (The Escort Collection) (8 page)

J
ames was gone
when I woke up the next morning. Sleeping next to him had been nice and horrible all at the same time. I loved being with him, but I’d wanted to be closer. In other words, I’d wanted him on top of me and inside me and behind me and all sorts of other places. I’d had to push those images, appealing as they were, and the heat I’d felt between us away last night. Just so I could get some sleep.

Still, we were making progress. I had no idea what that meant except that it thrilled me. It thrilled me, and I was fucked. Our contract was up at the end of two weeks, and I would be left with only the memory of him. The memory of him putting his arm around my shoulder at Fenway Park, which was now in my top-five favorite guy memories of all time.

I didn’t have the other four. Not yet.

I could still feel his touch on me now, and I imagined that I would feel it forever, even after he was long gone. The ghost of him, the memory, would be a blessing and a curse, I knew.

I waited for my common sense to wake back up and start choking my dreams again, but it still hadn’t happened, even after I had my coffee. So I let myself be in a good mood, a state which was very foreign to me, and got dressed to go see my brother.

Kai drove me. I signed in at the front desk and gave a check to the clerk to pay for the next two months. After some begging, Elena had given me an advance against my latest assignment. I wanted to make sure all of it went toward my brother’s expenses.

I found Tommy sitting in the common room, wearing an
Angry Birds
T-shirt and eating crackers, working intently on a 3-D puzzle. His brown hair was its usual spiky mess.

“Hi,” I said as I went up to him, and his face opened up into such a wide grin that it warmed my heart. It had only been a couple of days, but I’d missed him so much. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. Even though he was my older brother, I’d always taken care of him. I had a protective feeling for him and loved him fiercely, like I imagined a mother loved her child.

A normal mother. Not my mother.

“You haven’t been to see me in three days,” he complained.

“I’ve been working,” I said, sitting down next to him. “But it’s been good. I’m going to make a lot of money over the next two weeks. Then we’re going to be in good shape, okay?” I squeezed his arm. “Has Mom been here?” I asked.

“No,” Tommy said. “It’s been longer than you.”

“Well, she’ll show up eventually. She always does. And when she’s here, just make sure you don’t mention anything about the money,” I said.

Tommy nodded at me solemnly. We’d both learned the hard way.

J
ames was still gone
when I got back to the apartment, and I rattled around for a minute, missing him. Then I went to my bedroom, nervously scouring through my clothes for something to wear to the ladies’ tea. There was something about the event that scared the bejeezus out of me. First of all, I’d never been to a tea. I didn’t think people in the United States even did that.

Second, I knew the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork, but that was about it. If there were etiquette rules to observe at high tea, I was not aware of them. I hoped that Evie and Mrs. Preston would overlook that, but they probably wouldn’t.

Third, James wouldn’t be there.

Fourth, he wasn’t here right now, and that was a problem, too.

I sighed, wishing that I could see inside his head. If he felt what I was feeling between us, why hadn’t he tried to claim me last night?

At the same time, I was relieved that we hadn’t done it. If sex was added into the mix of whatever it was that was going on between us, it would get complicated, fast. Or maybe the opposite would be true, and he would suddenly seem like every other John. Honestly, I didn’t know which one I was more afraid of.

I couldn’t decide what to wear, so I started looking at the tags on the clothes. I would wear whatever was most appropriate
and
most expensive. That sounded about right for high tea.

J
ames still hadn’t come back
by the time I was ready to go. I checked my phone for what was probably the hundredth time, but there were no messages.

I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a short, full floral skirt and two white shirts layered together. I’d put on several delicate gold necklaces that Elena had insisted were very stylish right now. I wore nude lace-up wedge sandals that probably cost more than my grocery bill for five months. I grabbed an enormous designer bucket bag and some aviator sunglasses to complete my look.

Damn,
I thought when I looked in the mirror,
no wonder rich people always looked good.
It was pretty easy when your outfit cost as much as a large mortgage payment.

My phone beeped and I lunged for it, glad that I was alone so I didn’t have to be ashamed by my eagerness.

Go get ’em Audrey,
it read.

I’ll pick you up at four. Text me if you need a rescue.

I held the phone close to my heart for a second. It was as though I could hear his voice, and feel him though his words.

Ok,
I texted back, as if I was a normal, calm person.

Then I held the phone against my heart again because right now, I was anything but.

T
he lobby
of Imperial Hotel was even more impressive than the Stratum’s, and it was eminently more stuffy. Oriental rugs, oil paintings, and crystal chandeliers emphasized the exclusive luxury of the place. I did not fit in here. I felt a cold trickle of sweat run down my back as I headed in toward the restaurant.

The firing squad was waiting for me, dressed in their finest.

“Audrey!” Evie said, coming up to me instantly. She was wearing a hot-pink sheath that hugged her body. It was obvious that Evie had been on an all-lettuce and Pilates diet leading up to the wedding: she was rail thin, her collarbones jutting out almost painfully. She was all sharp edges and blinding-white teeth.

I smiled at her, awkward and wary. “Are you getting excited?” I asked. “It’s only a few days, now.”

She gripped my arm. “I am
so
excited. Todd is the love of my life.” She searched my face with a laser-like glare.

“I know he is,” I lied.
Except you tried to swap him out for his wealthier brother.
“You two are perfect together.”
I hope he comes to his senses and divorces you, then marries someone who’s eaten something in the last six months.

I decided to keep my thoughts to myself and pretend to be excited for her. “So, is everything all set for the ceremony?” I asked. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

To my relief, Evie started talking about the flowers and the photographer and the weather forecast. Like so many brides before her, she couldn’t see past the ceremony. She had wedding myopia, which was fine with me. I followed her to some nearby couches where her cousins and Mrs. Preston were seated.

Her cousins were Meghan, Michelle, and Sarah; if I’d understood James correctly, they all lived outside the city in Wellesley, a wealthy suburb. All three cousins were former investment bankers, married to investment bankers. All three of them had children, but you’d never know it by looking at them: their bodies were rock hard, sinewy with muscle, contrasting sharply with the soft, summery fabrics they wore. They scared the bejeezus out of me, too.

There were platters of delicious-looking appetizers, finger sandwiches, and cookies laid out before us, but no one had touched a thing. My stomach growled, and I self-consciously grabbed a sandwich. But Mrs. Preston smiled at me while I ate. “Hello, dear,” she said, turning her attention to me. I startled. Her face looked different today, oddly puffy.

“Oh, I’ve just had my facial filler today, don’t be alarmed,” she said. Her cheeks were big and round, like a chubby toddler’s.

“You have to get it done a few days before a big event so the swelling has a chance to go down,” explained Evie.

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I’m sure you’ll look perfect, Mrs. Preston. But I already thought you did.” I reached for another sandwich and stuffed it into my mouth before I had to talk some more. I forgot all about being self-conscious—if Mrs. Preston could talk about filling her face up with pharmaceuticals, I could fill mine with food.

Besides, I could not handle these bitches on an empty stomach. They were being friendly, and it set off all my internal alarms.

“Isn’t she sweet?” Evie said and patted my hand. My back immediately stiffened. I took another sandwich and stuffed it into my mouth. I had the sinking feeling this was a set-up.

“You’re starving,” Mrs. Preston clucked. It looked as if she was trying to smile, but her face was too puffy to move. “Any chance you’re eating for two?”

I shook my head no, horrified. “Not a chance,” I croaked out, past my sandwich.

“But wouldn’t that be nice?” Evie said, still fake-smiling at me. I should have just told her to stop, she sucked at it so hard.

I swallowed my food. “Not for me,” I said. “But
you’re
another matter.” Now I showed her what a genuine fake smile looked like and turned the tables, making the conversation all about Evie. “You could get pregnant on the honeymoon…wouldn’t that be exciting? Another little Preston?”

“It would be wonderful,” Evie said reverently. It sounded as though the idea made her salivate. But Evie didn’t strike me as all that maternal. I wondered just how much of a trust fund little Baby Preston would have.

“I expect a grandchild,” Mrs. Preston said to Evie. It looked as if she was trying to arch an eyebrow for emphasis, but nothing was really moving.

She turned to me. “But not from you,” she said.

I held up my hands, as if to surrender. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, “’cause it’s not happening.”

She and Evie looked at each other for a beat and then refocused on me. I grabbed yet another sandwich and looked around desperately for a waiter so I could order some wine.

“What exactly is going on with you and my son?” Mrs. Preston asked.

I sighed. “Mrs. Preston, we just talked about this yesterday. We’re dating and having fun. That’s it,” I said. “It’s not serious. You and I both know he’s out of my league.”

I looked at Evie. “You know it, too.”

She shrugged and nodded in agreement. “You’re right. He’s totally too good for you.”

“Thanks,” I said flatly.

“But Audrey—even though you said it isn’t serious, James told Todd that you went to the Red Sox yesterday. And that you had a great time,” Evie said.

“So?”

“And he told him you went on the swan boats,” she said accusatorially. It was as if she was presenting a particularly damning piece of evidence against me. Mrs. Preston leaned forward, waiting to hear my response.

I rolled my eyes at both of them. “That was my idea,” I said, even though it totally wasn’t. “Ladies, James is a great guy, and I like him a lot, but I can’t imagine he’d ever be serious about me.”

“Are you serious about him?” Mrs. Preston asked, not skipping a beat.

“Only as serious as you can be about something with an expiration date,” I said. I grabbed another finger sandwich and cursed the existence of finger sandwiches—why couldn’t they just make full-size ones? Then I wouldn’t have to keep grabbing them and feeling like a cow stuck in a herd of flamingoes.

I looked up to find Mrs. Preston studying my face.

Evie nudged me. “You two seem like you’re having a good time, though, which makes my life a lot easier.” She sounded as if she was apologizing to me. “If James was being an asshole like usual, these two weeks would be a total cluster fuck.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Preston said. A waiter approached, and she ordered a vodka gimlet.

I raised my hand. “May I please have a glass of wine?” I asked.

“Bring the bottle,” Mrs. Preston commanded, and I settled in for what I knew was going to be a very long afternoon.

J
ames came
through the door at exactly four o’clock, resplendent in another steel-colored suit. I practically sprinted to him.

“I’m pretty sure your mother was trying to get me drunk so she could interrogate me,” I told him once we were safely in the car.

“Are you drunk?” James asked. He almost sounded hopeful.

“No,” I scoffed. “Your mother had four gimlets and I had a bottle of wine. It was junior-varsity time.”

James shoulders shook in silent laughter next to me. “I can’t believe you can out day-drink my mother. You really are the perfect woman.”

His words sent shivers through my body, which I ignored. “She didn’t get anything out of me. I told her that we were happily dating, but that you and your gazillions of dollars were totally out of my league.”

James snorted at me and grabbed my hand. “The opposite is true—you’re out of
my
league,” he said. “Gorgeous, kind, and young like you are.”

“Ha,” I said, but I felt myself blushing from the compliment. “You’re all of those things, too.”

“Except for the kind and young parts, yeah—I guess I am,” he said, still laughing.

I shook my head at him. He was in a playful mood, which was a first. Maybe he should take more days off and eat ballpark hot dogs more often. If I had all of his money, I certainly would.

“Your mother even asked me if I was pregnant, or trying to get pregnant,” I said, snorting. “I wanted to explain to her that I was a working girl, not some sort of
gold-digger
.”

“She asked you that?” His voice was like ice.

I shrugged, trying to hold onto the happy mood we’d shared just a second ago. “It’s not like it surprised me. She’s been pretty direct with me from the start.”

All the amusement had drained from James’s face. He let go of my hand and turned toward the window.

“I fucking hate her,” he said. The violence in his voice stunned me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, desperately wishing I could back-pedal. “Should I not have told you that?”

He sighed and shook his head. “It’s not like it surprises me. She’s always been ruthless about it.”