“He said he didn’t know.” Does she sound…fond? “Said he just needed a change, and that he wanted some new company. Honestly, it sounded like he might even make it a conversation. Nothing else. He sounded…lonely. And sweet.” Her voice softens even more, and she’s definitely smiling. “Perfect for you.”
I let out a heavy breath, accepting my fate. She’s right; I need to replace the two clients I just lost. And I’ll have to start somewhere.
“I want securityinthe hotel that night,” I demand. Needlessly. Because if there’s one thing Amara does, it’s protect her girls.
“Scarlett, you know I’d never put you at risk. It’s already taken care of.”
A headache starts to pound at the base of my skull. “Fine. I’ll do it. When?”
“This Thursday. At the Ritz.”
I wince. That’s only three days away.
“Just wear your usual and go in with an open mind. Feel him out. I don’t need to tell you how to get a read on him. You do that naturally.”
“What’s his name? I want to look him up.”
“Nico Price.” She sounds teasing. “You might not hate me so much after you look him up.”
Doubtful, but hearing her say that eases my tension the tiniest bit.
“Okay. I guess…I’ll check in with you Thursday.”
“Beforeandafter,” Amara says sternly.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, mother.”
After I end the call with Amara, I drop onto my couch with an exhausted exhale.
Couch rotting it is.
FIVE
NICO
I’m nervous.
It doesn’t make sense. Not just because I never get nervous about these things, but also because this is the only date Ishouldn’tbe nervous about. I’m literally paying for the guarantee of a good date.
And yet…
I arrive at our meeting spot a half hour early. To avoid traffic, I made the drive from Philly to New York earlier today, and I’ve already checked in to my hotel room. The agency strongly suggested a hotel bar for the first date—I’m assuming for safety reasons. I don’t mind it, though. I want her to feel comfortable with me. Plus, a bar lounge makes for much easier conversation, too.
I take a seat at the bar and order a seltzer while I’m waiting. Ten minutes later, I realize I’ve nervously chugged the entire thing and decide to switch to still water.
Spinning my watch around my wrist, I look around the bar once more. The agency showed me a picture of my date, so I know what she looks like, but I have no idea if she knows whatIlook like. Does doing a background check mean they sent her my dating profile and picture? Does she even care about that stuff?
Meanwhile, I have her entire profile saved on my phone, and I’ve referred to it way too many times this week. I couldn’t help it.
Daisy. 22. From North Carolina, recently moved to the Big Apple. Plays the piano, loves animals, and her ideal date is listening to live music.
Based on her profile and her picture, she seems like a sweet Southern girl who yearned for the city life. Ironically, I would’ve matched with her instantly if she were on a dating app. I’ve been a city boy my entire life and would’ve jumped at the chance to show her around NYC. Add in some dogs and the preference for a quieter, softer life, and I’m sold.
I tried to look at the matchmaking call as just that, a dating service, but knowing that it’s not made the whole thing feel…weird. I just couldn’t shake the knowledge that my money could include sex if I wanted it to.
Fuck.Maybe this is a bad idea. I’m not an escort guy. What am I even doing here? All I wanted was to not feel lonely for one goddamn night.
I should leave. I’ll just call the agency, tell them I changed my mind. I’m sure they get that a lot, right? Guys with cold feet? I’m sure it would be?—
