Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
SIERRA
T he elevator door opens and I swallow hard as a beautiful woman steps from it, dressed in gold and looking like a million dollars. She offers me no second glance, but there is something familiar about her that I cannot place.
She moves away toward the reception and the elevator beckons me inside. I should step away from the most foolish mistake I will probably ever make and allow the doors to close and yet something stirs inside me. Curiosity mixed with heady excitement.
It’s too tempting.
I will never get this moment again and if things work out the way I hope, I will have something that nobody can ever take away from me.
A choice.
For the first time in my life, I’m making a decision. Possibly not the best one, but it’s my mistake to make. This is my moment to be assertive and flip off the establishment. Perhaps I’ve had too much champagne, but life is looking very different right now. Exciting, intoxicating, and dangerous.
I jump inside before the doors close and as I press for the penthouse, I swear my heart is thumping above the noise of the machinery.
What am I doing? I’m out of control—a fool even, but when my friends left, I saw an opening and dived right through it with no plan of how to get back. There will be no way back. I already know that and yet it’s the danger surrounding the situation that’s driving my desire.
For once, I will live in somebody else’s identity because I have never done this before and I’m not just talking about impersonating a whore.
I’m almost hyperventilating when the elevator stops and as I step out on to the carpeted hallway, I note the white door in front of me. There is only one room on this floor and the only way is down, in every sense of the word.
I’m almost giggling as I thump on the door, channeling my inner pretty woman as I fidget on the spot.
My inner voices are conflicted.
This is a bad idea—this is a great idea.
No good will come of this. No good will come of your future, anyway. It’s now or never before the chains tighten and the padlock clicks into place, so grab your moment while you still can and do something despicable.
The door opens and the man that’s standing there causes my jaw to drop and my heart to race.
I wasn’t expecting him.
His dark eyes are heavy with secrets and his hair is short and dark, his obsidian eyes piercing through my soul and stripping it bare.
“Um–”
I have no words because he is staring at me with a mixture of disgust and interest and I swear my heart is failing as he crooks his finger and steps aside.
My legs wobble as I teeter into the room, wondering if I’m not suitably dressed for the occasion. I should be wearing something short, sexier perhaps and not the blue silk dress that hangs just past my knee with matching silk shoes that cause me to tower past most men.
I’m tall, stupidly skinny with no tits—a stick if you like, and certainly not an enticing proposition for a man seeking flesh and nothing else. I hardly have any and I wonder if he’s disappointed.
I wouldn’t know because his expression is unreadable and yet my pulse is racing at the thought of what happens next.
“Sit.” He commands me like I’m his dog and I drop onto the white couch and nervously crumple the silk dress in my sweaty palm.
He moves toward a silver tray laden with bottles and pours some champagne into a glass and offers it to me.
“You’re different from what I imagined.” I blurt out nervously.
“So are you.” His voice is husky, velvet syllables coated with danger. His eyes flash and I blush at the sight of the muscled body evident through the tight white shirt that is unbuttoned to the waist. His inked skin is as turbulent as my mind right now, and the gold chain that nestles against the dark shadows of his chest sparkles in the dusky light.
He’s younger than I imagined. Possibly mid-thirties and yet has an assured arrogance that is evident as he fixes his eyes on my body with a broad sweep that causes me to blush, as his meaning is clear.
He sits opposite and drags his heated gaze the length of me and I forget to breathe.
“What’s your name?”
“Gina.”
I say the first name that enters my mind, and he nods, a small flicker of a smile ghosting his lips.
“What agency sent you?”
“Um–”
Fuck, what the hell do I say now? I figure he’s from out of town, so I say with a bored, “The Kitten Club.”
I pray that he doesn’t question that, or ask for ID because this would be over before it begins and I hold my breath as he nods, leaning back and fixing a hard gaze on my cleavage.
“What’s your rate?”
My mind is racing faster than my heart right now and my voice is high as I whisper, “Two hundred dollars.”
He raises his eyes and I say quickly, “An hour.”
His casual smirk mortifies me as he reaches for his jacket and then removes a wad of dollar bills and lays them flat on the table between us.
“Two thousand dollars buys me ten hours.”
“Ten hours!”
My jaw drops because I wasn’t expecting that. “I’m, um, not sure.”
“Too long, or not enough?” He asks, his dark, tempestuous eyes boring deep into my soul.
I don’t have two hours, let alone ten, because if I’m not back in my room by morning the shit will hit the fan pretty damn fast and I quickly calculate that would mean until eleven am.
“Two hours.” I counter offer and he shrugs, peeling away four hundreds and offering them to me across the table.
“Agreed.”
I stare at the money and a thrill runs through me when I see the bills taunting me from the marble top.
Four hundred dollars is nothing in my world and I struggled hard to calculate a rate I thought would be believable.
His low husky voice slides across my doubts as he whispers, “Then we should get started.”
“Um, of course.” I sense my cheeks heating as I anticipate what happens next, because I wasn’t prepared for this. How could I be and I am wondering if I lost my mind somewhere back in the casino as well as my money?
“Um–” I swallow hard. “What do you, um, want?”
“What do you do?”
I am mortified as he asks for a fucking menu and I attempt to gather my struggling thoughts into some kind of order and say tentatively, “Perhaps you should tell me what you want first and I’ll tell you if it’s on my list.”
“Your list.”
He leans forward. “How about dancing?”
“As in?”
I’m wondering if this is a euphemism for something else and he chuckles softly.
“As in a dance on the balcony under the stars.”
“I can do that.”
I smile and as he reaches for my hand, I relax for the first time since I thought this was a good idea.