That fondness on her face shines brighter. “I think you might be the sweetest man I’ve ever met, Mr. Price.”
I can’t stop staring at her. “Just Nico is fine,” I say dazedly.
BecauseMr. Pricemakes this sound like it’s not a real date.
I look at her with new eyes, finally realizing something I should’ve picked up on when I was making the call to the agency.
“Your name isn’t Daisy, is it?”
She might not even realize that the smile she gives me is a little sad. It’s also the only answer I get.
“That wasn’t me pushing for your real name,” I hurry to add. The last thing I want her to think is that I’m an overeager client who wants to push her boundaries. “It was just an observation.”
Coming face to face with the knowledge that this is a fake date bothers me.
“Can I call you something else?” I ask, desperate to take control of this night, to make things feel a little more real. I swivel my head to meet her eyes and find her watching me. “I mean, if that’s offensive, then forget it, but?—”
“You can call me whatever you’d like, Nico.”
Thank God, she sounds like she means it. I would’ve called her Daisy if she wanted me to, but a part of me likely would’ve felt distant for the rest of the night.
Why do I suddenly need this to feel real?
And why did I think picking a new name for her would make that possible?
A nickname, I decide. In that sense, people pick names for others all the time.
“Can I call you Red?” I finally ask. With the way my focus keeps going back to her lips, it’s the first thing that comes to mind. It feels fitting, too.
I don’t understand why she looks amused by the nickname, but I don’t question it because it’s followed by a flash of adoration. Andthat’sreal enough.
“I like Red,” she says.
Thank fuck.
“Well, in that case…it’s nice to meet you, Red.”
Those red lips curl into a genuine smile.
“Likewise, Nico.”
SIX
SCARLETT
This guy is way too hot to be hiring an escort.
I knew what he looked like, of course, but I wasn’t prepared for what helooked like.I wasn’t prepared for the way he would look atme.
He looks both sweet and rugged, somehow. It’s clear his nose has been broken a few times, but even with the scars and crooked feature, his eyes are soft and he’s wearing a half-smile. And the first time that dimple popped out on his left cheek, I just about melted.
He’s dressed simply in jeans and a dark-gray Henley. Add in his wavy brown locks that I want to sink my fingers into and the intoxicating smell of whatever cologne he’s wearing, and I’ve been lost in his aura since I walked up to him.
Normally, a good-looking man wouldn’t make me question why he’s calling me. Plenty of guys are hotandassholes. But not Nico. He’s like a walking green flag.
Amara was right.
I want so badly to ask him why he called the agency, but I can’t. I have to play the game.
