Chapter 21 Scarlett
TWENTY-ONE
SCARLETT
“Please, Daisy…please.”
I look down at the man kneeling at my feet, and I wonder if it’s possible to feel any more disgust.
Every other Tuesday, I have an appointment at Dr. Schaffer’s office. On his books, I’m just another patient there for therapy.
In reality, I go in to sit on his couch and let him obsess over my feet for an hour.
For half of the purchased time, I only let him look. Then, eventually, he receives permission to take off my heels, sniff my feet, and lick my toes. I don’t have to do anything, and there’s no penetrative sexual activity. Physically, it’s one of my easier appointments.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t grimace when I finally tell the doctor, “You may taste.”
He’s so busy sliding my heel off, he doesn’t notice the way I wince at his touch. When he presses his lips to my toenail, I start the process of distancing my mind from my body.
A process that becomes harder and harder with every passing day.
The last fifteen minutes of the appointment feel like they take forever. By the time I’m sliding my feet into my second pair of heels and taking the cash from the doctor, exhaustion weighs down my bones. All I want to do is get home and scrub the day from my skin.
“I’ll see you in two weeks?” Dr. Schafer asks with a smile. My heels that he buys for me so he can keep them afterwards dangle in his hands.
I give him a tight smile in return. “See you in two weeks, Doctor.”
I might not see you in two weeks, Doctor.
The dates that aren’t hard? The ones with Nico.
Even though our next one is a little different.
To my surprise, Nico requested an overnight date. I know he mentioned the idea briefly in the past, but I didn’t expect him to organize it through the agency. I’ve never accepted an overnight date before.
It speaks to how much I trust Nico that I agree to this one.
After our last date, there was a small part of me that worried I would regret telling him about my past. That I would realize I only blurted it out in a strained moment, and not because he actually cares.
But those feelings never came. My honesty was safe with Nico.
If Amara is confused by the overnight request—or by me accepting it—she doesn’t say anything. Ever since I changed my preferences, she hasn’t commented on my client list. She just hums and sets my schedule the way I want her to.
This week, I’m going to Philadelphia.
I catch myself randomly smiling the day of our date. I have no idea what Nico has planned, but I also realize that I don’t care. I’m just excited to be with him.
I take my time getting ready. When it takes me an extra hour to achieve the look I want, I tell myself it’s because I want to look perfect tonight, not because of the exhaustion weighing on my shoulders.
I must’ve worked out too hard this morning.
At four p.m., I walk downstairs to the Uber black Nico said he called for me.
We hit traffic on the drive, of course. It doesn’t matter that it’s Tuesday night, New York doesn’t exist without traffic.
The stop-and-go motion of the car makes me increasingly nauseous, which isn’t normal for me.
I attribute it to the fact that I didn’t eat today in preparation for tonight.
By the time we’re pulling up in front of Nico’s building, I’m just about ready to throw myself from the car. I really hope he’s not waiting outside for me because green is not a sexy color.
But I’m not that lucky. The Uber has barely stopped when Nico is ripping the door open and extending a hand.
“Hey, Red,” he says in an excited voice. “How was the drive?”
The driver gives me an apologetic look in the mirror.
“Little bumpy,” I croak out, taking Nico’s hand.
Frowning, he looks me over. “Do you usually get car sick? I would’ve suggested the train if I knew.”
“Not usually,” I say as I sag into his embrace.
Once he’s waved off the driver, he wraps one arm securely around my waist before leading me up the steps into his building. “Can I give you anything? I think ginger helps with nausea. Or maybe just some ice water?”
“I think I just need to sit for a minute,” I groan. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted tonight to start. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten car sick.”
The truth is, I’ve never gotten car sick. But I don’t know what else this could be.
“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not your fault. Here, just relax.” He pushes his front door open and leads me into his home. “I’ll get you some water.”
He seats me gently on his couch, taking a second to make sure I’m comfortable before he rushes off. It gives me a chance to look around his space.
It’s neat and clean, but still looks lived-in.
There are shoes scattered by the entryway and a cup or two on the kitchen island.
It doesn’t look like a bachelor pad, necessarily, but it’s limited in décor.
There’s nothing on the walls and clearly no thought put into the color palette, but there’s an oversized couch, a coffee table, and a big TV.
I wonder if he’s ever lived here with a girlfriend.
It’s the first time I’ve thought about Nico with other women.
Which is ridiculous, because he’s probably worried plenty about me with other men.
But for some reason, I’ve never thought about his personal life outside of me.
I just assumed the only thing he does is train and see his brothers, I guess.
Wow. What a self-absorbed view of the world.
Jealousy burns sudden and hot in my blood. I have no claim to him, no reason to ask about his dating history.
“Here, drink this,” he says, handing me a glass of ice water. “Might make you feel better.”
“Are you seeing anyone else?” I blurt out.
His lip twitches with a smile he doesn’t let appear. “I am not, no.”
My cheeks burn hotter. “Oh,” I say weakly, bringing the glass to my chest.
But then his hidden smile falls, everything in his body going tense. I know he’s thinking about reciprocating the question, but he already knows the answer.
I should tell him, anyway. He’s done so much to put me at ease, the least I can do is return the effort. I could tell him I’ve cut back on my bookings, too thrown off by my dates with Nico to be able to stomach certain clients.
But…I can’t tell him that. Because what would it accomplish? It’s not like I’m quitting my job. I can’t do that. What else would I do? And it’s not like I’d be saying it to be his girlfriend. Who would ever want to date an escort?
“Can I get you something to eat?” he asks, still stiff. Still not meeting my eyes. “It might settle your stomach.”
I cough into my fist to cover the rumble of my stomach at the mention of food.
I should definitely eat something, but I’m still not letting go of the idea of going out tonight, so I’ll pass for now.
“I’m good, thank you,” I say politely. I pat the couch next to me.
“Just sit with me for a little. I’ll drink this, and then we can go do whatever you have planned. ”
Seemingly soothed by my words, he drops next to me with a genuine smile. “Okay. Take your time; there’s no rush.”
I take a sip of my water. “What do you have planned?”
He grins. “Oh, I have big plans for us.”
I smile into another sip. “So mysterious. Any hints?”
His excitement is palpable. “Well, first, we’re going over to the Art Museum. Whether or not you want to go in, there are incredible views of the city from there.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Also, the Rocky statue is right there, which is purely a selfish stop.”
I chuckle at that, turning slightly in my seat so I can face him better. “And then what? A sports bar to watch the Phillies game? Will that give me the real Philly experience?”
“That and a Philly cheesesteak would undoubtedly give you the Philly experience, but no, that’s not what we’re doing. We have tickets to the Hans Zimmer concert tonight.”
I perk up at that. “Oh my gosh, really? I love his music. I’ve always wanted to learn the Interstellar piano piece.
” But then my age-old need to please comes roaring to the surface, momentarily weakened by the roiling of my stomach.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?
I don’t want you to be bored. We could do something else; I don’t mind. ”
Nico gives me a small smile in return. “Scarlett. We’ve been over this. I want to do things you want to do. Watching you enjoy them is why I enjoy it.”
My brain is too foggy to fight him on this. I take two more big sips before putting the water down on the coffee table. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“You feel better?” he asks, clearly skeptical.
I nod and force a smile. “I told you, I just needed to sit for a minute.”
In reality, I still feel exhausted and like my stomach is churning, but whatever; Nico is paying for a date, so he gets a date. Even if I don’t understand this date.
After a moment, he stands and pulls me to my feet. “Okay. Wait here, I just need to grab my wallet.”
I have to fight not to sag as he walks off. By the time he comes back and takes my hand, I’m channeling every bit of steel my mother instilled in me during my childhood. Stand up straight. Smile. Don’t bother a man with your problems.
But on the elevator ride down, the metal box starts to spin. By the time the doors open, no amount of parental lessons could stop me from stumbling forward.
“Whoa, whoa.” Once more, Nico wraps an arm around my waist. “I thought you said—” He tips my chin up, his eyes roving over my face. “This isn’t from the ride here, is it? Are you sick?”
I start to go dizzy, a stupid smile appearing on my face. “Definitely not.”
I hear his exasperated breath. “Scarlett, you’re sick. Your entire face just went pale.”
“Not possible,” I mumble.
And then I can’t say anything else. Because I’m rushing for the trash can in the reception and dispelling stomach contents that don’t exist.
Miraculously, Nico manages to get me upstairs between bouts of heaving. I take the tiny bin with me—not that much is coming out. Since I didn’t eat today, the only thing my stomach can get rid of is bile.
“Fuck, Scarlett,” I hear him curse as he carries me into his condo. With my arms latched tight around his neck, he’s carrying me with only one arm, the other hand holding the trash bin.
I whimper into his neck. “I’m so sorry.” I hate this. I hate letting him down.
“What? No, that’s not what I—” I feel his steps hurry. I have no idea where we’re going until he sets me down on the softest bed I’ve ever laid on. His hand brushes my hair out of my face. “I just hate seeing you in pain, baby,” he says softly.
“I’m okay,” I try to say. But it’s undercut by my desperate reach for the trash bin.
His gentle hands hold my hair back as I retch into it. When I stop heaving, I can’t handle the shame at him seeing me like this. All I can do is let out another pathetic whimper as I fall back into his bed.
But my heart squeezes when I see how concerned he looks.
“It’s probably the stomach bug,” he says, continuing to brush his hand over my hair. It feels like he’s looking for the contact. “I know you can’t eat anything right now, but I think you should try to drink some Pedialyte so you don’t get dehydrated.”
I frown, my brain fuzzy. “Pedialyte? Do you have a baby? Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”
I can make out his amused tone. “I do not have a baby. But fighters drink Pedialyte to rehydrate all the time. Didn’t you ever use it for hangovers after a night of drinking?”
“I’ve never been drunk,” I slur, my eyes sliding shut. “A lady never drinks to excess.”
I might doze off for a second during his silence, but then another wave of whatever this is hits me, and I curl over the edge of the bed to vomit again.
I groan as I fall back into bed again. “Ugh, this is so not sexy. Why are you still here? Just send me to a hotel. You don’t need to see this.”
“Fuck that,” he growls. “I’m not sending you anywhere. I’m going to take care of you.”
At that, some of the haze clears, brought on by confusion-fueled anger. I force myself to a half-upright position on my elbows.
“You don’t make sense,” I spit at him with a glare.
“Why on earth would you want to deal with this? Look at me, I’m disgusting.
I can do nothing for you in this state. Not even the conversation you claim to love.
” I scoff. “Even if you’re not paying tonight, it doesn’t make sense why you wouldn’t just reschedule and ship me off. ”
For the first time since I met him, there’s a flash of frustration in his eyes. I watch as he leans over to open the drawer in his nightstand beside me, revealing a giant wad of cash.
“Here,” he grits out, splitting half of it off and pressing it into my hand. “I told you I’m paying for you, in every sense of the word.”
I just stare at the cash.
“Matter of fact, here.” He smacks the rest of it on top of what’s in my hand. “I’ll pay you double what we discussed. I’ll pay you anything you want. Whatever it takes to get it through your head that I don’t want you as an escort, I want you as a girlfriend.”
My eyes widen.
And then I keel over again.
I hear Nico sigh as he brushes a hand over my hair. “I’m not going to take that personally.”
When I fall back this time, I’m trembling with exhaustion. I have no idea how long I’ve been here, or how long I’ve been throwing up. My head is pounding and I’m both shivering and sweating.
“Goddamnit, Red…” My eyes close as he pulls the blanket over me. “I’m going to get that Pedialyte.”
I think I doze off because it feels like no time at all has passed when I feel a straw pressed against my lips. I try to take a sip. I’ve never felt this weak before.
“Good girl,” Nico murmurs. “Do you think you can do some watermelon too? It’s food and hydration in one.”
When I only groan in answer, he says, “Okay, maybe later, then. Do you want to change clothes?”
I perk up at that. Sick as I am, the thought of wearing Nico’s clothes is too enticing.
He chuckles and holds the straw to my lips again. “I’ll get you a t-shirt and some sweats.”
I should be embarrassed that he has to help me change out of my clothes. I do hate that this is how he sees my lingerie for the first time in weeks. But I can barely summon the energy to lift my arms so he can peel my dress off, so I don’t have many options here.
I lay there like a pathetic doll as he pulls sweatpants up my legs, but I hum in pleasure when he tugs his t-shirt over my head. It smells like him.
I sink into the bed with a happy sigh once his smell is all around me. This entire situation is atrocious, but at least I know what his bed smells like.
“If you don’t throw up on it, you can keep that one,” Nico says. He chuckles when I glare at him.
Unfortunately, he might be onto something. Because I throw up in the next second.