Chapter 38 Scarlett
THIRTY-EIGHT
SCARLETT
When I leave Amara’s apartment the next day, I don’t feel any better—or have any more answers—than I did last night.
But the exhaustion of staying up has my brain moving through mud, therefore dulling my thoughts. So, I can’t bring myself to regret going home with her instead of being alone. The only thing that ends up being annoying is having to put my gala dress back on before I call an Uber.
I probably could’ve just stayed in the lounge clothes Amara lent me to sleep in, but a weird part of me wanted to wear a walk-of-shame outfit. I might not have had sex last night, but if I’m going to feel like an escort, I might as well look like one.
Even though I don’t think I’ll ever be an escort again.
I’d already subconsciously made the decision the night I ran out on my last client, but now I’m sure of it. Even though things are over with Nico, I can’t go back to that life. I need to be more than I was.
I need to decide who I am.
Odd that I needed a man to show me that my mother may have been wrong.
Exhaustion pulls at my bones when my Uber finally pulls up in front of my apartment. It’s late, later than I wanted to get home, and all I want to do is sink into a hot bath and sleep for a week.
But when I find Nico sitting on the steps of my building, that exhaustion disappears. Suddenly, my skin is crackling with electricity.
I have no idea why he’s here, and more importantly, I have no idea how he knows where I live. However I felt about Nico before, at this moment, I’m going to treat him like any other man: with my guard up and my brain on full alert.
He spots me as soon as I climb out of the car and hurriedly stands to his feet. It isn’t until his eyes drag over my body and his face goes pale that I realize what he’s seeing.
He thinks I was with a client last night.
Instantly, anger infuses my veins. I was too surprised and hurt last night to register anything else, but now, with Nico standing, judgmental, in front of me? I’m pissed off all over again.
My steps slow as I near him, adding a little extra sway into my hips. Let him look.
“Mr. Price,” I say with a sweet purr. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
His throat moves on a rough swallow. “Can we talk?”
I cock my head to study him. “I assume whatever it is you want to talk about isn’t something you want to be public knowledge so…should we go inside?”
He looks…nervous? His gaze drops down to my dress again before he nods.
Maybe I should care more about Nico seeing my apartment for the first time right now, especially since this was supposed to happen very differently in our original after-gala plans. No one’s ever been in my apartment besides Amara. It should feel more vulnerable, shouldn’t it?
But I’m so focused on Nico, so frustrated and curious about what he’s doing here, that none of those feelings register. I unlock the front door and sweep into the apartment without any hesitation.
“Would you like anything to drink?” I ask over my shoulder. “I have water, water, or water with ice. Take your pick.”
When I pull a bottle from the fridge and spin to face him, he’s wide-eyed, looking at me in a way he never has.
Fair enough. I feel a little crazed right now, too.
“So…what can I do for you, Mr. Price? Here to book another night?”
That seems to snap him out of it because he takes a few big steps forward into the kitchen.
“Don’t call me that,” he begs. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a client.”
“But you are a client,” I remind him with a quirked eyebrow. “You paid me for every date, remember?”
“Only because it was the only way to get you to talk to me!” It explodes out of him, and for a moment, I wonder which outburst was his true subconscious: this, or the one last night.
I can’t tell, and that’s the problem.
“Men don’t usually pay me to talk, Nico.” The name slips out of me before I can think better of it.
“Then men are fucking idiots,” he snaps back. Then he sighs. “And I’m one of them.”
I narrow my eyes at him before taking a sip of my water, my chest tightening. “No argument there,” I mutter, more to myself than anything.
With a shake of his head, Nico says, “Okay, look. We need to talk. About last night.”
I slowly close my water bottle and place it aside. Then I lift myself up on the counter, crossing my legs in a way that the slit of my dress exposes my thigh.
“Fine. Pay me.”
Nico’s eyes widen. “What?”
My stare never wavers. “You just said it was the only way to get me to talk. So pay me.”
“Scarlett, that’s not what I—”
“Pay me or get out.”
I think my words—and my tone—startle both of us. I have never ordered a man around. I’ve always done my best to smooth things over, to make any situation I’m in as stress-free as possible. Even as an escort, demands have never been a part of that.
But there’s something welling up inside me, something demanding to be heard.
Nico must see it in my face, because even though he looks like he wants to push back, even though it takes him a few seconds to make the decision, in the end, he reaches into his pocket. Pulling out a wad of cash, he slams it on the kitchen counter.
“There. Now let’s talk.”
My heart can’t decide how it feels about this. By default, it felt right to demand the money, but I think a small part of me was still hoping that last night was a fluke, that Nico really does care for me.
But I take one look at the cash and square my shoulders, stepping right back into my escort heels. I let a seductive smile slide across my lips as I uncross my legs and spread them.
“So, how can I help you, Mr. Price?”
This time, it’s frustration that flashes across his face at the name. Stepping forward, he places his hands on my knees and tries to push them together. “Scarlett, stop it.”
I manage to maneuver us so instead of my legs closing, I can wrap them around the backs of his legs to pull him into the V of my thighs.
“But this is so much more fun than talking,” I say in a playful whine.
Guiding his hands up my thighs, I lean forward to speak against his lips.
“Don’t you remember how good it feels to touch me? ”
His hands reach my hips, and his grip immediately tightens. I watch as he squeezes his eyes shut, clearly struggling.
“Don’t,” he says in a harsh whisper. “Just…please, don’t.”
“Why not?” My tone is flat and emotionless. “You practically said it yourself, I’m just a whore. This is what I do.”
In an instant, Nico’s entire demeanor changes.
His eyes shoot open and lock onto mine, hurt and palpable regret swirling in their depths. His face goes slack, as do his shoulders and his grip on me. All of a sudden, he looks exhausted.
“I didn’t mean that,” he says firmly, but with a sadness I feel all too well.
“I swear to God, Scarlett, I didn’t mean that.
And I’m so fucking sorry that I said it.
I—” He looks away, his throat bobbing on a swallow.
“It threw me off when I ran into that guy, and I took it out on you. I never should’ve said those things to you.
You didn’t deserve it, and I hate myself for hurting you with it. ”
I study him for a moment. I already knew Nico’s freakout was a reaction to running into a client, but what I don’t know is whether the things he said were thoughts finally spoken, or something else.
In the end, I simply keep the emotionless tone and come back with the truth.
“Doesn’t really matter. You were right.”
There’s a flash of anger in his eyes. “The fuck I was. You are not a whore.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Nico, I literally sleep with—”
“You are not what you do, Scarlett.”
It isn’t his outburst that stuns me into silence, it’s the conviction with which he says it.
He must see something in my eyes because he immediately softens.
“You are so much more than you give yourself credit for,” he says, the longing in his expression making my skin tingle all over.
“You keep putting yourself in this box because you’re scared to see yourself as anything more.
Because your parents and some fucked-up situation three years ago landed you in this twisted lifestyle that you won’t let yourself get out of.
I want to get you out.” There’s a twinge of desperation in his voice now.
“Please, Scarlett, let me get you out. Let me convince you that you’re more than this, that you’re smart and kind and perfect all on your own. ”
I want to believe him. I want to believe I’m more than just a man’s accessory.
But we already went down this road, and I don’t trust Nico enough to believe him again.
I meet his eyes and hold them as I ask quietly but without wavering, “Why would I do that when, at the first sign of trouble, you accused me of lying to you and acted like a completely different man than the one I’ve come to know?”
The breath he sucks in is audible. I don’t know what he expected me to say, but it wasn’t that.
Slowly, he lets out a big exhale. “Okay. Okay, let’s talk about that.”
I straighten where I’m still sitting on the counter. “Fine. Let’s.”
Seeming to read that I need a little bit of space for this, he backs up against the opposite counter and slides his hands into his pockets. His words are careful when he speaks.
“You know I ran into your client last night. Which wouldn’t have been a big deal, but he said something about you that really bothered me.
” Guilt flashes in his eyes. “And instead of asking you about it, I reacted emotionally. I fucked up.” He glances away as he mutters, “It didn’t help that I saw you with Tyler, either. ”
“Who’s a piece of shit, by the way,” I snap at the reminder. “Are you friends with him?”
Nico looks up, startled. “What? No. He’s just another fighter out of Philly; we run in the same crowds.” He frowns. “Why is he a piece of shit? Did he…say something else to you?”
I want to laugh. “Oh, now you’re protective? Because let me tell you something, Nico: he made me feel like shit, but you made me feel worse.”
He stares at me, speechless. I’ve never let myself be anything but the agreeable girl, even with Nico.
And it feels good to unleash on him a little.
His throat moves on another rough swallow. “You’re right. I was a total piece of shit, and I’m so, so sorry. I never should’ve said what I did to you.”
Maybe the hardest part of this is that I suspect he means it. He does feel bad for freaking out at me, because the way he acted, it isn’t like him at all.
My words are quiet when I ask, “Then why did you?”
He takes a big step forward, seemingly done with giving me space. Cupping my face in his hands, he tips his forehead to touch mine.
“Because I got really fucking scared that you didn’t feel about me the way I feel about you,” he whispers. “Because…” He pulls in a shaky breath. “Because I realized I was falling in love with you, and the absolute worst thing I could think of was finding out I was just a client to you.”
My heartrate triples. He was falling in love with me?
I have no idea how to respond to that. How am I supposed to respond to that? I’ve never felt this strongly about someone before, never had someone feel this strongly about me.
Nico must not expect a response because he straightens, hands still cupping my face.
“Give me another chance, baby,” he begs, his voice raw with emotion that brings tears to my eyes. “Let me make it up to you. Let me love you the way you should be loved.”
“You hurt me.” It bursts out of me. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to say it until it’s out there.
Regret flashes in Nico’s eyes. “I know, and I’m so—”
“A big part of me is screaming to forgive you.” He goes quiet when I cut him off, and the rest of it rushes out of me. “That I should accept your apology so we can smooth everything over and continue as if none of this happened. That would be the easiest thing…for you.”
He’s hanging on to every word, but he stiffens on that last one. He knows something is different.
“But another part of me,” I continue, quietly but with conviction, “a much smaller, newer part I’m embracing, is telling me to throw you out of my apartment. Because you hurt me. You broke my heart last night, and I don’t want to forgive you. Not yet.”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, a sense of calm settles over me.
Because for the first time in my life, I’m making a decision for me. Not for my mother, or for whatever man I’m standing in front of, but me.
Maybe I should be more wary of Nico’s reaction to my words. After all, I was taught to be scared of a man’s displeasure. But I’m not surprised when he eventually nods and drops his hands from my face.
“I understand.” After a moment, his eyes lock with mine once more, glassier than they were a minute ago. “Part of me wants to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness. But…another part of me is proud of you for telling me no.”
Before I can react to that, he leans forward to press a kiss to my temple, the gesture making my heart ache. And then he’s turning and walking away.
But he stops as he opens the front door. “Just so you know, this isn’t a goodbye. I will earn your forgiveness.” And there’s ironclad conviction in his gaze when he adds, a little softer, “I’m not giving up on us, Scarlett.”