Chapter 5 #2
“It’s the questions you asked. It’s acceptable to want to know how much he’s worth in case he wants a contract with you, but you wanted to know personal stuff.”
“But that’s always where it gets interesting.”
His face is serious. “You have to be exceptionally cold about this. Enjoy the sex by all means, but nothing else.”
I take a breath and then confess, “I kissed him.”
“So?”
I hesitate. “Well, he seemed a bit startled, and I wondered if we were supposed to do that? I lost track and couldn’t remember what you said.”
“You can kiss whoever you want. I’m not the mouth police. Kiss him, sleep with him for all I care. Just make sure that you don’t ever fall in love with him.” He shakes his head. “We covered this.”
“It might have got lost if you mentioned it after the waxing. My pain receptors made the real world seem very dim for a while.”
“Well, pay attention now, then.”
I wave a hand. “ Relax . I was just curious. You know how nosy I am.”
He studies me for a long moment and then relaxes. “That’s true. You do have very poor impulse control. I should have remembered that.”
“Hey,” I say crossly, but he carries on talking.
“Anyway, it won’t be a problem. Cormac doesn’t do seconds. He never goes back for more. He’s one and then completely and utterly done.”
My gaze strays to the bedside table where his business card leans against the lamp. “That can’t be true.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Well, he wants to see me at a hotel next time.”
Julian collapses back into his chair.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Did someone take your batteries out?”
“Cormac wants to meet you at a hotel?”
I nod. “Here’s his card.” He takes it from me, still staring at me. “He says he doesn’t like to conduct his business at the club, so maybe you’re wrong about him never seeing someone twice.”
He looks at the card and taps it against his hand. “I’m not wrong.”
I roll my eyes. “You’d never admit it, even if you were.”
A smile hovers on his lips. “If he were seeing someone regularly, it would have been the subject of huge gossip all around the club.” He shakes his head. “Trust me. He’s a big deal.”
“Why?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but we’re interrupted by the doorbell. He gets up and pads out of the bedroom with me at his heels, determined to hear what he was going to say.
He opens the door, and I see the concierge from downstairs. “Hi, Alan,” Julian says in a warm and friendly voice.
“Good morning,” the older man says cheerfully. “I have a package for a Mr Wes Archer.”
“That’s me.”
“That’s him.”
The old man blinks at our combined voices. “I brought it up because I wasn’t sure if it had been wrongly delivered.”
Julian takes it from him. “No, it’s right. This is Wes, my f-friend.” I suppress a smile at the stumble. “He’ll be staying here for a while, Alan,” he says casually.
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Oh, Wes, please,” I say awkwardly. “Nice to meet you too.”
The man nods and walks away as Julian shuts the door.
“Aww, you’re my friend and you just told the whole world about us.”
“I told the man who delivers the mail. Please don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I can’t help it.” I wink at him. “You practically shouted it from the rooftops. Should we do something to seal our friendship?”
“Shall I kill you? It would work for me.” He hands me the box. “What is it?”
“How on earth would I know?”
I look down at the small box and shake it experimentally. Something rattles inside it. I look up at Julian, and he smirks. “Open it, then. Unless you’ve been gifted with X-ray eyes.”
“But no one knows I’m here, so how has that got here?” I settle on a stool at the granite breakfast bar and tear at the tape. A white box slides out and I gape. “It’s a phone.”
Julian is leaning over the counter, looking as interested and engaged as a small child. It’s very endearing. “That’s the latest iPhone.”
“I know. These cost a fortune.”
“There’s another box in there.”
I reach in and pull out a green leather phone case and a charger. I look up at Julian. “Does the club provide these for us?”
He rolls his eyes. “No, Fox seems to think that we make enough money through him that we can afford our own. Is there a note?”
Of course. I slide my finger in and come out with a single sheet of paper. It feels expensive and has a posh watermark on it. Written in dark, bold handwriting are three words.
Open the phone.
Julian leans in even closer and grins at me. “This is so exciting. Like being spies.” He looks me up and down. “I’d have been a wonderful spy. You, not so much. Open the box, then.”
I fumble for the box, and the phone slides out. The home screen is a photo of a navy-blue painted door, and I stare at it. “Is that the new Apple wallpaper? I’ve never seen it before.”
“No.” Julian frowns. “That’s the door of the club.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Why is that there?”
I tap the phone to open it. The message box has a red notification. My heart hammers as I open the app. The messages are brief and to the point which rather describes the man I met last night.
This is Cormac Reilly.
I’m willing to pay the same price as last night. I will be at the Excelsior Hotel in the city at three pm.
Room 324.
Don’t be late.
Julian gasps. “The same price? Fucking hell .”
I blink. “That’s seventy grand.”
“I know. He’s given you a phone,” he says slowly.
“Isn’t that normal?”
He shakes his head. “Not for him, as far as I know, and I do know a lot. It does imply that he might need to contact you again after the next meeting.”
“Does it?”
“Well, otherwise he could have just sent a message for this time.” He looks up at me, his eyes alight with interest. “You must have made a very big impression.”
“To be honest, I thought it went rather chaotically.”
His eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, nothing,” I say quickly. He does not need to know about the clusterfuck that was my attempt at conversation. He wouldn’t approve.
Excitement fills my belly with nerves—excitement, lust, and concern. The latter is mainly because I’m too full of the first two.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
I lick my lips. “I’m going, of course. He’s gorgeous .”
I move towards the bedroom to get ready but stop as his hand stays me. “And the money.”
“Pardon?”
“He’s paying for sex with you, darling,” he says very deliberately, his eyes full of what looks like concern. “And that’s why you’re really going. Isn’t it?”
“Of course,” I say immediately. “It’s a lot of money.” I think of Tyler’s potential new bills, and my mood dims a little. “And I think I’m going to need everything I can get.”
“Hmm. Remember my advice, please.”
“It’s simply impossible for my brain to hold all that information in one go.”
“Try,” he advises me.
I race off to get ready.
Cormac doesn’t seem the type to slum it, and the hotel is predictably posh—made of glass and steel with uniformed concierges at the doors.
I skip their attentions and slide into the lift, riding up next to a couple dressed in suits and carrying briefcases.
They’re talking in low voices, and I sneak a look at my reflection in the mirrored wall.
While I’d showered and douched earlier, Julian had gone through the contents of my wardrobe.
His appalled hilarity was loud enough to hear over the sound of the running water.
Ultimately, he’d denounced most of my clothes as only suitable for a morning trip to the recycling centre, apart from a pair of navy skinny trousers I’d bought last year for a wedding.
Clutching those, he’d steered me through the flat to the third bedroom, which he’s turned into his wardrobe.
He’d looked at and discarded clothes until settling on a pale blue cashmere jumper and white shirt.
He’d given me a pair of his dress shoes, but I’d rejected them in favour of my old white Reeboks.
They make me feel more me somehow and not so much like I’m playing dress up.
The lift stops, and the doors slide open on my floor.
I swallow hard. Giving the couple a smile that they ignore, I edge past them and into a long corridor.
The hotel doors are spaced far apart, indicating big rooms. Room 324 is at the end of the corridor, and I hesitate outside the door.
Is he in there, or maybe he’s got cold feet?
Maybe he’s even forgotten the appointment.
I discard that thought immediately. He didn’t give the impression of a man who acts impulsively.
He’d been cool and calm with a sense of deliberation about him, and I’d bet that everything in his life moves at his pace.
I think of his blue eyes, his thick dark hair, and that look on his face when he came. I can’t get that out of my mind. The ecstasy was so intense, and his whole face had softened. My cock twitches, and before I can second-guess myself, I reach out and knock on the door.
A few seconds later, the door swings open, and he’s there.
He’s dressed in another expensive suit, this one a dark Prussian blue that makes his eyes look even more vivid. His thick black hair is swept back from his thin face. We study each other for a long second, and then I decide to open my mouth, which is never a good idea.
“Hello. Did someone order a hooker?”
His eyes widen, and he reaches out, pulling me into the room. The door shuts with an expensive click, and he turns to me with a ferocious frown.
“I’m so sorry,” I say immediately. “Oh my god , I didn’t mean to say that. I always talk shit when I’m nervous.”
The tension in the room slowly eases, and then his lip twitches. “And what is your excuse for when you’re not nervous?”
It takes a second, but then I relax. “Cheeky,” I advise him.
We stare at each other, and then he shakes his head. “I must be mad,” he observes to no one in particular.