“Thank you for being my date tonight, Sky. Get home safe.” He kissed my cheek in a friendly gesture and left me to wait in line for my cab.
Just as the car door was about to shut, a man in a dark suit slid in next to me, his cedarwood scent filling the cab.
“To the Waldorf, please,” he ordered the cab driver.
“W-what are you doing?” I looked at Spencer, not putting up a fight where the cab driver took us.
While fidgeting with his cufflinks, he cleared his throat. “We are going to have that conversation. I didn’t wait around all night so you could text me. We are going to talk back at my place.”
Fuck. I had planned to have a moment to think about what I was going to say in between text messages. Now, he was going to look me in the eye as I told him I worked as an escort. I wasn’t sure if I was more embarrassed, ashamed, or mortified that this was happening.
Maybe all of the above?
The taxi driver weaved in and out of the throngs of people walking along the Strip as he pulled up to a beautiful building that sparkled in the night along with every other building for miles.
“You live on the Strip?” My eyes were glued to the fancy high-rise.
“I do. It’s convenient,” he said as the cab came to a stop.
Spencer paid the driver and slid out of the passenger door, keeping it open for me to follow.
I guess I was going to keep the money Hunter paid me for the ride since Spencer had taken care of it.
“And expensive, I’m sure.”
“I can afford it.”
Our conversation stayed short and clipped all the way up to the top floor where the penthouses were. When I should have been thinking about how I wanted to start this discussion, I was too distracted by the incredible view and the expansive building I’d just walked into.
The elevator ran all the way to the top floor, spitting us out into his penthouse. This place looked like it was straight out of a magazine. Windows wrapped around the entirety of his home, the gorgeous Strip views on display.
An off-white sectional couch took up a large part of the living room. The starch material appearing like it was made just for looks, and not for sitting or entertaining. No pictures of family or friends filled the walls, only paintings, and intricate art piecesthat probably cost more than what I made today working both jobs.
This was a total bachelor pad for the rich. And not just any kind of man with loads of money. A multi-millionaire.
“Would you like a drink?” His voice echoed from the wide-open kitchen.
“Please.” He didn’t even ask what I wanted, but at this point seemed to be a good judge of character when it came to what I liked to drink.
“Blanton’s. Neat.” He handed me the amber colored liquid.
“Thank you.” I took a sip of the smooth bourbon and followed him toward the wrap around patio.
With a flip of a switch, he turned on the gas fireplace and took a seat on one of the outdoor couches that boxed in the fire. Following his lead, I sat on the cushion next to him.
“Mind if I take off my heels? My feet are killing me.” I winced.
“Not at all. Make yourself at home.” His eyes dragged across my every movement, his gaze feeling warmer than the fire.
“This place—your place, looks really nice.” I filled the silence with a compliment.
“Thank you, Avery. If you don’t mind. I’d really like to discuss what tonight was. I think I’ve been more than patient watching Hunter’s hand drag along your lower back all night.”
My teeth bit down on my lip so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if I drew blood. With no idea where to start, I finally came out and said it.
“Hunter wasn’t a date. He was a … client.” My heart sped up as I waited for his response, watching his face for any indication of disgust.
“A client?” I could see the wheels turning in his head. The look of confusion etched into his forehead.
