Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WYATT
Julian lay next to me. His face was hidden by the darkness of the room.
His arm lay heavy across my hips. The lights from the Strip played across the ceiling.
This was where I got up and left, and yet I didn’t want to.
I wanted to lie here and listen to him breathe, feel the weight of him next to me. But that wasn’t us.
Because there was no us.
What I felt was the hormones of what we experienced together, what I had been paid to do.
I slipped from the bed, gathering up what clothes I could find, and slid the bathroom door closed.
Black and white paint was smeared on my cheek and chest, on my stomach, and on the inside of my thighs.
I had lived in this fairy tale for long enough.
It was time to face reality. I dampened a corner of the washcloth, ready to wipe it all away, when the door slid open.
Julian stepped into the bathroom, and our eyes met.
He took the washcloth and started with my jaw, the warm water running down my neck and chest. From my jaw he moved to my neck.
My breath came out in uneven huffs as he moved to my breasts.
All the time watching me in the mirror. He reached into the overnight bag on the counter and fished out a condom.
His eyes met mine as he positioned himself behind me. He pressed me against the counter. His hand came round, resting at the base of my neck. The paint on his hand was still intact; it was dark against my throat.
The cold stone counter cut into my hips.
Julian’s hand slid up my throat, his thumb on my bottom lip.
Now I know why people wanted to fuck in front of mirrors.
Watching him, watching me made every muscle in my body turn liquid.
His teeth skated across my shoulder. This.
Watching him fuck me in the mirror, the sound of his breath, was what made getting out of that bed hard.
It would make leaving this room hard, leaving him harder.
“Fuck, Cassidy.”
Cassidy. The name pulled everything back into focus.
That was who I was with him in this moment.
Who I had to be. And now, in the low light of the bathroom, all the mistakes I made were staring back at me.
I had fucked him for free. I should’ve known better.
I had been doing this since I was nineteen.
I needed to grow the fuck up and act like the highly paid whore I was.
Not some lovesick… not love. Hormonal teenager.
“You don’t have to leave,” he whispered in my ear.
“Yes, I do.” Because this was my job. And I’d crossed a line.
I’d let myself fall into the same trap some clients do—mistaking sex for something more.
Sex had a way of blurring things, like a sunset.
Pretty, but deceptive. A moment that tricked you into thinking it meant more than it did.
But once everything settled, once the hormones faded and the room cleared, this would be nothing but a mistake.
Not his.
Mine.
“At least let me call you a car,” he said, picking up the forgotten washcloth and running it under the faucet.
“It’s okay. I’ll get an Uber.” I looked at my discarded dress that lay in a heap on the floor. God, I really fucked this up.
“No, you won’t,” he said, wiping my jaw with the cloth. “This is not coming off.”
“Julian.” I took the washcloth; this really had to stop. He had to stop. Stop making me feel like what we had was more. If this whole hockey thing didn’t pay off for him, he could be an escort. He was good at making me feel special. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” He tipped my chin up. The paint on his face had smeared.
“This.” My nights didn’t end like this with clients. When their time was up, there were no moments like we had. Everyone gathered up their belongings and left. There was no softness. No kindness. “We don’t need anyone seeing us together.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” He cocked his head, his voice sharp.
I took a quick breath, searching the gray room for the words I needed to say. I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I’m an escort. I get paid to do this. And if…”
He pressed a finger to my mouth. “But I didn’t pay you.”
“Yeah, about that…” I walked out of the bathroom. It would be easier to have this conversation if we weren’t standing naked in front of each other. I stepped into the stupid dress. The corset boning cut into my ribs.
“Do you want me to pay you?” he asked, pulling a pair of sweatpants out of a duffel bag.
“No. This complicates everything. You. Me. I shouldn’t have done this.” Why would he pay if he knew he could get it for free? And what did that say about me if I wanted him to pay? I obviously liked having sex with him.
“Cass.” That name sounded like nails on a chalkboard. But it was why I had a whore name, to remind me of my place. “I’m not confused. I know how this works. It changes nothing.”
“But it does. Why would you pay for…?” I cursed at this stupid conversation and the stupid dress I was trying to put back on.
“Let me help.” His knuckles brushed against my spine. He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “I’ll pay if that will make this easier.”
I turned to face him. I had two options: say yes and we continue as we had, or say no and never see him again. The latter made my heart break, and the first one was bad for business.
“No. I’m the one who said no.” I sat down on the bed to put my shoes back on. Neither of us said anything. Julian finished dressing. “I really have to go.” Maybe this was why Cinderella had to be home by midnight, so she wouldn’t make stupid mistakes with a man who looked so good after a good fuck.
“I’ll call you a car.”
“No. I won’t need it.” End this now, my head screamed.
Nothing good would come of this. “It’s probably best if we…
um, if I…” I stayed on the bed a moment longer, still hoping something might shift.
But the truth was always going to be the same.
He was a hockey star. And I was someone he should never be seen with.
Julian pulled out his phone, texting someone. “There, done.”
“What’s done?”
“I paid you. Now let me call you that car.”
“Julian, that’s not fair to you.” I dug my phone out, ready to reverse the charges, when he grabbed it.
“I’m not going to have you end this because you think I wanted a freebie. I’d pay more if you asked. Now, can we move on?”
“I…” I wasn’t sure I could mess this night up any more than I already had. “This can’t…"
“No.” He pressed a finger to my mouth. “Not another word. I’m going to call a car, and then I will wait with you,” he said, reaching for the phone.
“I’ll take an Uber.”
“Cassidy. I’m not going to let you get into some Uber on Halloween at two in the morning. I’m not that guy,” he said, putting the receiver to his ear. “This is Julian Silver. I need a car. Yes, now. Thank you.” He hung up the phone, grabbing his jacket. “Ready.”
“Don’t do this.” I pressed a hand to his chest. “If anyone recognizes you…”
“They won’t, but if they do, so what?” He took my hand.
“So what? If people find out what I am and that I’m with you… well, it will be bad, for you.” The media was full of these examples. People’s careers and lives ruined because of some moral code they violated. Adultery. Paying for sex. Falling in love with the wrong person.
“It might be a nice change. Now all they remember me for is who my father is. Or how badly I played. All the goals I missed. The guy that paid a very beautiful woman to suck his cock might be nice.”
“I haven’t done that.” I frowned, realizing I hadn’t.
“If you stay the night, I’ll let you tie me up and you can suck it all you want.”
I laughed. “As tempting as that sounds…” And it really did sound tempting, the cock-sucking and spending the night with him.
“Cass, my life has been splashed across the headlines since I was fifteen and started playing in the CHL. They cannot say anything I haven’t already heard.”
“Have they said you were paying for sex?” I shivered as the air conditioner kicked on.
“Yes.” He stepped away and dug through the duffel bag on the floor, then pulled out a sweatshirt, smelling it. “Here, it’s clean-ish.”
“I’m fine.” My teeth chattered, not from the cold but the roller coaster of emotion I was feeling.
“Would you just put it on?” He walked over and tugged it over my head.
I slipped my arms in. It was warm and smelled like him.
“A little big, but it will cover up all that.” He motioned to my chest, pulling me into his embrace. “Once some teammates and I went to a strip club. I got a lap dance. Not my idea. But someone took a couple of photos.”
“A lap dance is pretty minor,” I said, looking up at him.
“I was drunk and barely seventeen. And that wasn’t the last time an unflattering photo of me turned up on the internet.
There were a few other drunken escapades when I was nineteen and twenty.
And twenty-one and twenty-two. Then the whole thing with Shaw this summer.
” He frowned at me. “My nickname for a long time was ‘Tarnished Silver,’ among other things. There’ve been rumors I have a substance and alcohol addiction.
My coach thinks I’m doping, and you can’t Google my name without some controversy coming up.
So paying for sex is another thing to add to the list.” He stepped away, grabbing his wallet and pulling on a jacket. “Ready?” He reached for the door.
“I’m sorry,” I said as he opened the door. For tonight and all the other nights. For the times people had let him down.
“For what?” He took my hand as we walked to the elevator.
His hair was a mess and the makeup on his jaw was smeared. “I know what it’s like to have your mistakes always thrown back in your face.”
He shrugged, watching the arrow light up and door open. “It’s the life I chose.”
I caught our reflection in the elevator’s mirror. There was no doubt where the black and white paint that was smeared across my jaw and neck had come from.
“When can I see you again? I have a game on Sunday, and then I’m off for a few days.”
“I have clients on Tuesday and Thursday,” I whispered, as if whispering those words wouldn’t make it so bad.
“Tomorrow? Or shall I say today?” he asked, looking at his watch.
The elevator door opened to two drunk girls laughing at one who was on the floor, saying she was going to pee herself. The few people that were around were more concerned about the girl peeing on the floor than us. Outside, a sleek black car was waiting.
“Mr. Silver?”
“Thank you.” Julian opened the door. “So, about tonight?”
I paused before slipping into the limo. “It would be easier to say no if you weren’t so perfect.” I lightly touched his brow. Those words slipped from my lips before I could stop them.
He pulled me closer. “I could come home with you. Save us both the time.”
Before I could say yes, a voice cut through the taxis and ride shares.
“Jules, you fucker, there you are!” Anders called, walking up the sidewalk. A woman in a long black dress struggled to keep up with him.
“I should go.” I smiled quickly and ducked into the car.
“Don’t leave on our account,” the woman called, slipping off her shoes. “We were about to go and get something to eat.”
“Call me,” Julian said before he kissed me and shut the door.