Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 100417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then tried again. “That night was . . . different.” He gazed out at the water as he said, “I expected you to do the escort spiel and resented it. I wanted nothing to color the experience.”
What did he mean by different? Surely he expected me to ask. So I didn’t. “I do know your net worth. You should pat yourself on the back for a good job. But it won’t affect my behavior.”
He faced me. “Oh, really?” His words were tinged with ice.
The man thought I was cozying up to him for his money. The irony! “Your wealth is an abstract—it’s leprechaun gold to me.”
Why would I dream about his money—instead of my own? There’d been a few million liquid, but Edward had probably blown through that much searching for me. He still had the mansion, but not Martinez Beach.
Each decade, the strength of the land’s trust eroded; in time, a lawyer like him could figure out a way to circumvent the trust. With resort encroachment on both sides, its value would be through the roof.
Others had had the same idea. Developers had hounded my mother constantly, one reason she’d become a shut-in.
“I could almost believe you,” Sevastyan finally said. When I shrugged, he asked, “How much of your online bio is true?”
“Not a lot.”
“You don’t like dancing, yoga, and shopping? What do you do for fun?”
“I can’t dance, I scoff at yoga, and I despise shopping. I’m a runner, and I don’t have spare time for fun.”
A muscle ticked in his wide jaw. Of course he would take that to mean: I’m always on my back. “I have little time myself. Most of my life is dedicated to business.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
I ran the pad of my forefinger around the rim of my glass. “You could’ve had fun Monday night. You missed out on the time of your life.”
“Did I? Tell me what we would’ve done.”
“The party would’ve begun right after you screwed my ever-loving brains out on the couch. Instead of getting rid of me when I patted your ass, you would’ve laughed. Maybe even tickled me. Wrestling would’ve ensued, and I might have let you win. Then we would’ve had another round of drinks and gone swimming.” I fake-examined my nails. “If you must know, seeing me dive naked would’ve been life-changing for you.”
“Would it, then?” His blue eyes grew lively. His charisma was off—the—charts. “Continue.”
“We would’ve had sex again. In the water. Then, after more drinks, I would’ve ridden you on a lounge chair until your eyes rolled back in your head.”
He groaned low. “MSOG?”
Multiple shots on goal. “Sometimes I forget what a hobbyist you are.”
“The hobbyist and his courtesan. How long have you been doing this?”
“Would you believe me if I told you that you were my first client?”
“Nyet.”
“Wow. Don’t even want to think about your answer?”
“I ‘strong-armed’ an escort into a date and purchased her private line for ten thousand dollars. Before that, I downloaded her goddamned picture to my phone. If I’m to be brought this low, it shouldn’t be at the hands of a rank novice.”
My pique passed. “Is there a compliment in there?” Had he truly downloaded my picture?
“You fuck too well to be anything but a pro.”
“Thanks?” Maybe he liked the idea of me being a professional. If I convinced him I wasn’t, maybe the thrill would be gone for him.
And did it matter when I’d never see him again?
“Is Cat short for Catherine? Or maybe Catarina or Catalina?”
“I’m just Cat.”
“Tell me your real name.”
“That’s not even on the table.”
“Like I said, everything’s on my table. I’ll get it out of you sooner or later.”
How long did he think this arrangement was going to continue? “You better hurry. You return to Russia soon, no?”
“I’ve decided to stay until the twenty-eighth. My older brother is getting married in Nebraska that weekend, so I’m remaining in the States till then.”
Could I have had something to do with his decision?
He sipped his drink, waiting for me to reply. And waiting . . . “This is where you angle for multiple dates, telling me you’ll show me the town.”
Angle? That was something Edward would do. I gave Sevastyan a tight smile and patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll get up to something. Have fun.”
His lips parted. “I gave you an in, and you didn’t take it. I find you a very singular creature.”
I laughed. “I’m singular? Psst, I’m not the one who gets off on whipping strange women.”
He gave me that DDG smile. “This is precisely what I’m talking about. You know what I’m worth, but you still give me lip. It’s incredibly refreshing.”
For once my sass (as my mother used to call it) was working for me!
“Unlike every single other escort I’ve been with, you didn’t try to upsell me after sex; you simply took my money.”
I jutted my chin. “You deserved that.”
“Maybe I did,” he conceded. “And you didn’t feign passion. In fact, you insisted on your own pleasure.”
“You’re a good-looking man. I find it hard to believe that no one gets turned on when they’re with you.” I glanced down. When had we gotten so close together? We now sat thigh to thigh.
“They have their reasons. Some have admitted that they keep that part of themselves separate from their clients. I’ve observed others so busy thinking about upselling me, or even landing me, that they don’t relax.”
And I’d told him, “Ow! Hold up.” I had to stifle a laugh.
“Or else an escort bills herself as a submissive, when she’s anything but. I’ve had many who swear they enjoy discipline and bondage, yet then I would see no evidence of it.”
Ivanna had told me that she initially enjoyed it. But one day she’d had five outcalls, had been tied up and whipped by five amateurs. Her experience had soured her on it.
“It’s not easy to find a true submissive,” the Russian continued. “One who’s beautiful and available would be snapped up.” He peered at me keenly.