Amara nods. “Very well. Should I put him before or after your appointment with Mr. Harris?”
“Give Harris to one of the other girls. It doesn’t matter who’s bent over in front of him. He just wants someone to tell him his cock is small.”
Maybe I’ll regret handing off one of my “easy” clients, but I can’t find it in me to care.
I can feel the way Amara’s studying me. Any other madam would probably scold me for thinning my roster instead of filling it, but not Amara. Not with me.
“If you need a break, cara, just say the word,” she says gently. “I can cancel your clients, put you on a plane to an island, let you relax?—”
A loud laugh bursts out of me. The idea of a vacation solving my problems is absurd.
My reaction only seems to worry Amara more. When the guilt starts to seep in, I let out a tired exhale and assure her. “I’m fine. Really. Just a little burnt out.” I hesitate, then add, “Maybe a vacation at the end of the year wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
Seemingly pleased that I’ve at least taken her question seriously, she nods. “You tell me when, and I’ll put it on our calendar.”
I try for a smile, but I think I’m too drained. “Just schedule Nico for Thursday,” is what I say instead.
I’m too busy mentally calculating if three days is enough to compose myself for another date.
NINE
NICO
Of course I called for a second date.
I would’ve called, regardless, but having to stay at the hotel and sleeping in the bed that I fucked Daisy in—the bed that smelled like her, that had her lipstick print on the pillow—made it impossiblenotto call as soon as I woke up.
The only sobering moment was discussing scheduling. Hearing “she’s booked the rest of the week” wasn’t just a slap in the face, it was a right cross to the jaw.
Which shouldnothave been as disconcerting as it was.
When I first called the agency, I didn’t think too much about what a date would be like. I figured the sex would be good, and maybe I hoped there would be some interesting conversation given the parameters of two people who don’t know each other, but I didn’t exactly have high expectations. I just wanted to spendonenight not in my head, not depressed by the quiet of my apartment. I thought it would just be sex.
I never expected to feel…excitement. I never thought I would still be thinking about Daisy days later.
My entire drive home was spent with mounting frustration. Because what do youmeanI’m smitten with an escort.
It’s the classic pathetic male response, isn’t it? Man pays woman for a date, woman somehow convinces man that she’s not there for the money, man falls head over heels, woman leaves as soon as man stops paying. It’s a tale as old as the profession itself.
I should call the agency back and cancel. I should chalk this up to one crazy story and leave last night where it is.
But…I can’t. Because my gut isscreamingat me that last night was different. And the only way I can think to find out the truth is to see her again.
I just need to keep my head on straight next time.
It’s the longest week of my life. I throw myself back into training, hoping to distract myself from thoughts of Daisy. I spar more than I ever have, because it’s virtually impossible to think about anything but the shin coming at your face when there’s a two-hundred-pound man in front of you.
After one particularly hard sparring session, I’m dead on the ground, trying to catch my breath, when my striking coach’s face appears above me.
“You’re looking good, Nico,” he says with a pleased tone. “I was a little worried when we accepted the fight that your camp would be too short, but you’ve been working hard. I’m impressed.”
I almost want to laugh. If only he knew that my motivation today has nothing to do with my upcoming fight.
Hey, Coach, remember when you told me no dating during fight camp? Well, you never said anything about escorts. And it turns out, that’s the one girl that will sufficiently distract me.
“Thanks,” I say instead, pulling myself to a seated position. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to get as many rounds in as I can. And actually—” I swallow thickly, hoping nothing weird is visible on my face. “I was thinking about getting an extra session in at Renzo’s.”
He nods his agreement. “That could be good for you. If you don’t mind the commute.”
