Escorting the Groom (The Escort Collection Book 4) (2 page)

I
fought
my nerves as Ian, my driver, pulled onto Tremont Street in the South End of Boston. I was rarely anxious, but this afternoon was proving to be an exception. I forced myself to focus on my surroundings. The neighborhood was picturesque, with neat rows of brick townhouses.

Ian double-parked my Range Rover and let me out. I groaned inwardly before I went to meet Elena and my escort, Blake Maxwell. Elena had sent me her picture; Blake was drop-dead gorgeous. Other than that, I only knew that she was blond, healthy, and twenty-eight years old.

And she'd agreed to marry me in exchange for a million dollars.

My heart was heavy as I trudged up the steps. My parents had drilled it into our heads, from the time Serena and I were children, that we had to comply with the terms of the trust in order to inherit the family fortune. Otherwise, the money would go to some distant cousins.

Serena had already married, thereby complying with the terms of the trust. She'd known exactly what she was doing when she married Robert and divorced him a few years later. She was officially home free, scheduled to inherit billions of dollars.

Unless I took half of them from her.

My mother had been adamant on her deathbed. Get married. Inherit the money and split it with my sister. My mother saw Serena for who she really was: a spoiled, snobbish party girl, interested more in the state of her manicure than the state of the world.
I love your sister, but don't let her get all of it.
Those were some of my mother's last words to me.

That was why I was here: to honor my mother's wishes. Had my sister been a more responsible human being, I would've let her have the trust. All of it. I had plenty of money of my own. But Serena only cared about parties, luxurious vacations, and spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on high-end filler for her face and high-end fashion for her closet. I didn't want to see her sink my family fortune into lip plumper, Prada boots and donations to her beloved college sorority.

Serena would completely lose it if she knew that Blake was an escort—which was the only thing about this predicament that was awesome.

I walked through the doors of AccommoDating's airy, bright office. A tall, attractive woman approached me, her short hair spiky and highlighted. "You must be Mr. Ford." She shook my hand firmly. "I'm Elena. We spoke on the phone."

"Please, call me Lucas." I nodded at Elena, who looked more like a high-powered corporate attorney than a madam. "I reviewed the contracts you sent over, and everything looks in order. I signed them an hour ago. And I wired the deposit money into the account per your instructions."

"I know." Elena smiled at me. "Please, sit."

I sat down, warily scanning the office for signs of the escort.

"After I take my agency fee, the rest of the money will go to Blake directly," Elena said. "In the interim, as stated in the contract, you are responsible for all of her expenses. Food, clothing, housing. Her terms are complete at your one-year anniversary."

I cleared my throat. "I had my lawyer add one additional term: if I'm satisfied with her performance, she'll get a bonus of another million dollars at the end of the year." I'd decided that was one way to avoid any drama or poor behavior over the next twelve months: offer my escort an additional monetary incentive to behave.

Elena looked stunned. She pulled her glasses down on her nose and studied me. "I'm sorry?"

"I'll pay her double if she does a good job. It's to encourage good behavior," I explained. "That means no excessive partying, no drugs, no boyfriends or extra-marital activity, and she has to be pleasant and appropriate at all times. She can't ever breach the confidentiality agreement. My family has to believe that our relationship is real. If she does all those things for a year, then I'll give her another million dollars. It's worth it to me—this is very important."

Elena opened her mouth then closed it, studying me. "I'll tell Blake that," she said after a moment. "She'll be thrilled."

"Is there anything else?" I cracked my knuckles, antsy, eager to be on my way. "I have meetings this afternoon."

"I'll make sure Blake's ready." The madam got up, hustled to the front desk, and handed me her card. "Please call me if there are any issues. I know that Blake is more than up to the task—she's a true professional, and this kind of money will be life-changing for her."

"Then it's win-win," I said confidently. Inside, I felt anything but.
This is fucking crazy.
What made it even worse? It was all my idea.

But once I made a choice, I acted on it. I followed through. That was how I'd gotten ahead in the high-tech industry, becoming a billionaire in my own right before I'd even turned thirty. I was a venture capitalist, and I was considered a ruthless one: I bought new companies and sold them at whim, never letting personal attachment become a factor in my business dealings. I rarely, if ever, doubted myself. And as I sat in the office and waited for my escort, I realized why: self-doubt was creeping and invasive, a choking weed wrapping itself around my insides.

I roughly brushed the doubt off, eradicating it from my mental landscape. This was just an unfortunate circumstance, a blip on the radar. I was hiring this girl for the greater good. She was going to help me, and I was going to help her.

And then I was going to get back to what was really important: running my empire. Alone.

* * *

B
LAKE

Elena came hustling through the door, her cheeks flushed, as I put the finishing touches on my makeup.

"Are you all packed and ready?" she asked.

I nodded, gesturing to the luggage I'd neatly assembled over the course of the afternoon. Elena had let me have free range over AccomoDating's wardrobe. I'd packed gorgeous designer dresses, skimpy bathing suits, expensive jeans and T-shirts, and of course, lots of sexy lingerie.

I hadn't packed a wedding dress, though. That was the one thing Elena didn't have. Lucas and I were going to have to figure that out.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I had no idea what sort of women my new client preferred or what his tastes were like. My earlier Internet search of him had come up largely empty, aside from the
Globe
article. There were items here and there about his technology empire, his latest start-up acquisition, and older photos of his proper-looking parents attending various society events. I’d found lots of pictures of his sister, Serena. She was stunning, with long dark curls and the figure of a Hollywood starlet. She appeared to be a lady who lunched, served on several boards, and attended what seemed to be an endless string of black-tie events.

Elena patted my hand, bringing me back to the present. "The client's added some terms to the contract," she said.

"What?" I asked, immediately suspicious. This close to so much money, I was waiting for the rug to be yanked out from under me—a learned response.

"An additional economic incentive." Elena gave me a reassuring smile.

I didn't want to get my hopes up. "Please tell me what you mean."

"Mr. Ford just told me that if you follow the terms of the contract to the letter for the next year, he'll give you more money."

A nervous flutter went off in my chest. It took me a second, but I finally recognized what the feeling was: hope. "Go on."

"This is big, Blake." Elena's eyes sparkled with excitement. "He said if you pull this off, and the family believes this marriage is real, he'll give you another million dollars at the close of the assignment."

I almost fell over. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "Seriously. You know I don't joke about money."

"Wow… just, wow."
Two million dollars.
For the first time in my life, I was finally going to rise above the poverty line. Not only that, I was going to get the actual
hell
away from it.

"He's waiting," Elena said. "He seems antsy, and he's definitely all business. Not exactly into small talk. But very handsome."

"Works for me," I said, grabbing the over-sized designer pocketbook I'd borrowed from the wardrobe and throwing it over my shoulder. The bag was new; I'd taken the tag off of it that afternoon. It had cost more than my monthly rent, which I found utterly ridiculous. But I had to look the part. I had to seem like a billionaire's fiancée, not an escort hired to pretend to be a billionaire's fiancée. My cheap plastic tote from Target wasn't going to cut it.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? It's a big commitment…" My boss's voice trailed off.

"Don't get soft on me now, Elena." I kept my tone light. The truth was, her concern touched me. "I'll be fine. In fact, I'll be two million dollars more than fine. How many people get to say that?"

I'd already promised myself that if Lucas Ford was mean, or if he was dangerous at all, I would leave the assignment. Money was important, and I needed it badly, but my safety came first.

The money came a very close second.

Elena nodded. "I just want to make sure you'll be okay."

"You don't need to worry about me. I can handle this," I assured her. "It's just business."

She reached out and clasped my hand. "I know how much this will help you. You and your mom can finally get a nice place. Somewhere safe. But I mean it, Blake, if you have any second thoughts, call me. I'm here for you."

"Thank you." I smiled, trying to reassure her. "I'll be fine. And just wait until my mom hears about the money!" I couldn't wait to call my mom, to let her know that by the end of this assignment, we would officially be in the monetary clear. I would just have to get her to swear, up and down, that she wouldn't tell my leech of a sister.

Elena called our bouncer, Ty, and had him collect the luggage. "Mr. Ford's car is out front," she instructed him.

I watched as Ty grabbed the bags and headed out of the back room, carrying the clothes I would be wearing for the coming months as I lived out my days in a stranger's home.

A stranger who was about to become my husband.

* * *

L
UCAS

A very bulky, menacing-looking man came out of the back room, carrying two suitcases, his biceps popping. He gave me a warning look as he headed outside.

"What?" I asked, standing up.

"What d'ya mean,
what
?" he asked, his voice as strong and heavy as his body.

"Why are you giving me a death look?" I prided myself on getting to the point.

He stopped and turned to me, not putting the suitcases down. "Blake's my
girl
," he said. "You hurt her, I'll come and find you. You break her heart, I break your face."

I nodded, crossing my arms against my chest so he could see my own biceps, which weren't quite as large as his, but came pretty close. "Well… okay. If that's all."

"Yeah, it is," he grunted, then carried the enormous suitcases down the stairs.

I cracked my knuckles again, but I decided I wasn't going to fight him. Not right then.

More movement extended into my peripheral vision. I turned to see a tall blonde come out, throwing her long hair behind her shoulder and smiling at me prettily. She took my hand firmly. "Blake Maxwell," she said, her voice throaty and pleasant. "Pleasure to meet you."

She looked even better than in her photo. I hadn't thought that was possible.

I shook her hand, absolutely dumbfounded by her beauty. "Lucas Ford," I said, somewhat stupidly. Her smile broadened, and I caught a glimpse of her white, even teeth. Jesus, she was gorgeous, and nothing about her looked remotely fake. I caught myself wondering what it would be like to touch her skin, to pull her against me.

Down boy,
I warned myself.
Jesus.
We hadn't even made it through the front door, and I was ogling her.

Ogling wasn't part of the deal I'd made with myself.

"Well, I'm all packed and ready to go," she said, her voice gentle.

I shook my head as if to clear it. "Great." I turned to lead the way.

But there was nothing great about it. My escort was so pretty, it hurt to look at her. And I was going to have to marry this girl and pretend that it was real, all while keeping my hands to myself. Because that was one promise I'd made. In order to keep my exposure—physical, emotional, psychological—to a minimum, I wasn't going to sleep with Blake.