Page 10 of Resist

“You said you wanted one woman only. Lola will be better in a few days. You could wait—”

“I don’t like to wait.”

“Mr. Lockhart—”

“What’s the problem, Vee? You afraid a man like me might ruin you for other men? I assure you I’m more than capable of making you forget your own name.”

Arrogant asshole. And men wonder why some women think they’re better off with battery-operated toys and their own fingers?

“Charming.” No wonder he needs Wicked Ways. With lines like that, the prick wouldn’t even be able to catch a cold if he tried.

“Isn’t that the bonus of hiring an escort service? I don’t have to be charming or put on an act. There is no need for niceties. Getting laid is a foregone conclusion.”

“You’re paying for her companionship . . . anything after that is between you and your date. Getting laid is never a foregone conclusion.”

“So says the woman who sells it.” This time when he laughs, it makes my hands clench into fists. It angers me that his words have somewhat gotten to me when I am rarely fazed by anyone other than Lucy. “A real boss knows she has to get her hands dirty when need be . . . and I’m all for dirty, Vee.”

“Peer pressure won’t work with me,” I say, hating that my mind goes there and wonders what exactly his definition of dirty is. “You might be able to coerce others—women who’d die for the chance to be on your arm—but not me. I’m not interested.”

“Mmm.” That sound irritates and provokes all at the same time. “You say that, but right now you’re shifting in your chair, wondering what those women know about me and how far they’d actually go to be on my arm . . . or other places on me.”

I start to shift in my chair and then stop myself when I realize he’s right, and I hate him for it. “Mr. Lockhart . . . I appreciate the hard sell here, but I assure you it’s not going to work. A, I’m not your client. B, I’m behind the scenes. C, I rarely meet clients. D, I don’t sleep with clients.”

“I’d love to know what F is,” he says putting emphasis on the letter F.

“A repeat of D—I don’t sleep with clients.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.” I grit my teeth.

“What if I were to pay you double? Could I have you?”

“This is not a negotiation, Mr. Lockhart.”

Did he really just offer eight thousand dollars for a night with me?

“Everything in life is a negotiation, Vee.” There’s that chuckle again, but this time the suggestion in it causes chills to chase over my skin.

“Not for me.” I clear my throat, needing to get on with this conversation before my mind agrees to do things it shouldn’t even consider. “I have someone for you,” I lie, just to stop him from relishing a fantasy that isn’t going to happen.

“But what if I want you? With a voice like yours, I’m certain—”

“I have a girl for you. Her name is . . .” I struggle to think up a name for whoever I’ll find in the next few hours to take care of him. “Saxony.”

“Saxony?”

“Mm-hmm. She’s college educated. Drop-dead gorgeous. Is familiar with the power players in New York.”

“And has many other skills?” Suggestion laces his tone.

“Of course.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned her before?” he asks.

“Because she’s new to the agency, and I didn’t want to give you a new girl without vetting her . . . but her previous agency has a list of reviews on her—many men of your stature—who all have decided to follow her over to Wicked Ways.” The lies continue to roll off my tongue, and of course I have no idea where in the hell I’m going to come up with a Saxony to fill this bill. “While I can’t get her health screen in time, I’m sure you can wear a condom just this one time since she meets all of your requirements and—”

“And she’s not you.”