Escorting the CEO (The Escort Collection #7)

Chapter 1

A FULL FACE

RORY

I pouted at the camera, then made a kissy face. “That’s all for now! Tune in for my next broadcast, starting in one hour!”

I turned off the video, then shut down my ring light. I hastily pulled a sweatshirt over my head, covering my lacy purple bra.

Covering the evidence.

“Rory, honey, I made breakfast!” My grandmother called from the kitchen.

“I’m coming, Grammy!” I hustled to the mirror, making sure no purple lace remained visible. My grandmother wouldn’t approve of me wearing sexy lingerie.

Grammy wouldn’t approve of most of what I was doing.

She also might wonder why I wore a full face of makeup at seven a.m., but I didn’t have time to scrub it off. My grandmother didn’t know that the internet never sleeps and that many of my European viewers were on their lunch break, hungry for more than just a baguette and a glass of rosé.

The tiny kitchen smelled like bacon, pancakes, and maple syrup. My grandmother commanded the ancient stove, wearing an old-fashioned apron, wielding a spatula. “Why do you have all that makeup on your face?” She scowled. “You’re beautiful just the way God made you!”

“Thanks.” I gave her a quick hug and started setting the table. “Are Josie and Bo up yet?”

She laughed. “They’ve been outside chasing the chickens for an hour already.”

I shook my head. “They’re crazy! I’ll call them in.

” Josie and Bo were my younger siblings.

Josie was ten, and Bo was eight. They were from my mother’s second marriage, so they were technically my half-siblings, but that didn’t matter to me.

I loved them and fussed over them nonstop—even more so since our mom took off.

But I didn’t want to think about that.

I opened the battered screen door and hollered, “Josie, Bo, come in! Time for breakfast.” They ran inside, smelling like grass and dirt and Chewie, the ancient Chocolate Lab who’d been my grandmother’s constant companion for thirteen years.

Chewie ambled in behind them, tail wagging, looking forward to table scraps.

“Hey, Rory!” My brother Bo hugged me, then made a beeline for the table. The only thing he loved more than playing in dirt was eating.

I ruffled his hair. “Wash your hands first, Bo.”

My sister hugged me, too. “When’re you going to teach me to use mascara, huh?” Josie whined, fake-frowning at me.

“Never.” I grinned and squeezed her. “Mascara’s for adults. Not ten-year-olds.”

“You’re not an adult,” she said.

“Yes, I am. I just turned twenty-two,” I reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. “So?” Sometimes Josie seemed a lot older than ten.

“So it makes me more of an adult than you—go wash your hands, and help Grammy get breakfast on the table.”

Josie did as she was told. Both she and Bo were good kids.

They never gave my grandmother any trouble, and they’d always behaved for my mom.

Not that it mattered. My mother wanted her freedom—freedom to vape and party, freedom to follow her new roadie-boyfriend across the country, freedom to only care about herself, freedom to leave her children behind without a backward glance.

Thank God for my grandmother. When my mom left, Grammy had taken us in, put a roof over our heads, and kept food on the table. But we’d been at the farm for close to six months, and I knew she couldn’t afford to take care of us. She was on a fixed income and was barely making it on her own.

I’d found foreclosure notices tucked behind the calendar—her beloved farm was weeks away from auction.

I knew she’d been spending all of her savings on us.

We had doctor and dentist appointments, my brother had outgrown all of his clothes, the kids needed new shoes, and food, food, food.

Food was so expensive! There wasn’t enough money to cover everything.

Which was why, at seven a.m. on a Tuesday morning, I was wearing a purple lace bra and a face full of makeup.

“May I be excused, Grammy?” I asked.

She motioned to my empty plate. “You didn’t eat a bite.”

“I had some toast earlier,” I lied. I knew there wasn’t enough money for groceries, so I’d been trying to skip meals.

“Rory, honey, you need to eat…” Grammy wrung her hands together.

“I need to get ready for my exam,” I lied again. In order to explain all the time I spent locked in my room on my computer, I’d invented a summer school program to keep Grammy from asking too many questions. “I’ll come out when I’m finished and help with chores.”

I kissed the tops of both Josie and Bo’s heads, squeezed my grandmother’s shoulder, and made a hasty exit to my room. I locked the door behind me. If anyone came in and saw what I was up to, they’d freak out.

I turned on my ring light, reapplied my lip gloss, and logged into the app.

I already had three men queued in my waiting room.

I took off my sweatshirt and checked my reflection.

I looked just like my mother, a fact that never failed to irritate me.

I selected a background I’d been using lately, which made it look like I was broadcasting from a high-end, sunny, luxury apartment.

Ah, the internet. It was filled with lies.

There weren’t a lot of ways to earn money in our remote town in upstate New York, but at least there was wifi.

I clicked on the avatar for the first guy waiting in line. Payment up front through the app, I texted. I waited until the funds hit to let him into the room. It wasn’t enough money to save my grandmother’s farm, but it would help buy groceries this week.

I told myself this was temporary, that Grammy would never know, that it didn’t make me a bad person. But lately, I was beginning to worry that on top of all the lies I was telling in this chatroom, I was also lying to myself.

“Hi there,” I purred. “I’m Rory. I’m twenty-two. Legal, human—and full of bad decisions.” I blew the camera a kiss, relieved that I couldn’t see the stranger’s face.

“This is your fifteen minutes to get anything you want from me.”