I wasn’t blind to what she did for a living. But since I’d met her, the idea of her booking clients—in my circle, nonetheless—it didn’t sit well with me.
“Do you mind if I ask you some questions about the work you do? No judgment, I promise.” I held my hands in front of me in surrender.
“Only if your skin is thick enough to hear the answers.” Her body turned, shifting toward mine.
“How many clients do you take a week?”
“Usually, four, sometimes five,” she answered quickly, the answer coming off as honest.
“Same men, or new clients all the time?”
“A little bit of both.”
Unsure why, the idea of her having regulars made my skin crawl. The extent of the work she did with her regulars was unknown to me, but naturally, my thoughts got the best of me.
Did they hire her time and time again because she was a good lay?
Did they develop feelings for her?
“Does work always look like it did tonight?” I wanted to hear it from her. Not jump to conclusions based on stereotypes.
“Not necessarily.” Her eyes tore away from mine. Standing up on bare feet, she made her way to the railing on the balcony. Facing away from me, her head hung low, looking down on the busy street full of drunken idiots and taxis driving like maniacs.
Worrying that I pressed too hard—asked something too personal—I shook my head before standing up to join her.
Her sun-kissed skin glowed against the lights on the Strip. Her back was strong and toned in the soft silk fabric of her dress. My fingers were itching to reach out and run along her spine.
Inching closer to where she stood, I boxed her into the railing with my hands on either side. Her breath hitched when I crept closer. My fingers grazed her upper back as I swept her dark hair over her shoulder, leaving the other completely exposed.
With my front just an inch or two away from her backside, I whispered, “I don’t want to ask you the wrong thing, Bella, but I’d like to know more about what you do. Aboutyou.”
“Why do you care so much?” She was avoiding.
“You intrigue me. And I still want that date I asked you for,” I persisted.
“Are you asking what my job involves because you want to hire me?” Her tone turned cold.
“I want a date withyou, Avery. Not Sky.” I shifted her body around, forcing her to look me in the eyes. “I want your company because you interest me. I want more moments like the night at the bar where I got to stare into your gorgeous blue eyes over drinks and get to know the person you really are. I want to hear you laugh—genuinely. Not forced like I heard you with Hunter tonight.”
“Why? Why Spencer? Why would you want to get to know a girl who fucks other wealthy men for a living?” Her answer stung.
There it was—the answer I knew existed all along but needed her to confirm. I was a fucking forty-year-old man. I knew whatan escort did; what services they offered for a pretty penny. But hearing her say it out loud, knowing damn well she didn’t enjoy her job, only filtered more questions into my mind.
“You aren’t the stereotype, Avery. I’m not going to sit here and judge you for what you do for a living because youhaveto. You’ve made it clear that you don’t enjoy your job. So, I can only assume you don’t find joy in the things that come along with it—like fucking a man you’d never go for, but can’t refuse, because he’s dressing you in one-hundred-dollar bills while you’re naked on his bed.”
For moments, silence stood between us; the only sound was the bustling nightlife forty-seven floors below. Her plump lips opened and closed, words waiting to be said, but instead, the cat got her tongue.
No other word could be used tonight to describe what was going on between us besides: confusion.
Avery was holding back, rightfully so, because she hardly fucking knew me. And me? My thoughts were a jumbled mess. In all reality, I was only trying to explain to her that my gut was screaming at me to get to know her.
Our eyes were on each other, but when her gaze lost mine, my focus dipped, stealing a glance at the sinful amount of cleavage she showed off.
Instinct took over, and my thumb brushed along her lower back. Once again, her mouth moved, but her words remained nonexistent.
“Avery…” I whispered, inching closer.
“I…I think I should go.” She scattered away from me, grabbing her heels in the process.
