3. Hailee
Chapter three
Hailee
M y mind is a jumbled mess of swirling thoughts when I step inside the restaurant. The three-Michelin-starred establishment is housed in a beautiful art deco building, its opulence impossible to ignore. I’m absorbing the sheer beauty of the décor when a pair of striking sea-green eyes catch mine. Sitting at one of the tables near the French-style windows is him . Of all the places in the world, he has to be here. At this very restaurant, at this very moment.
Fuck my life.
It’s obvious he finds this chance encounter amusing. His eyes briefly glitter with affection, yet they still hold that conceited edge. And that smirk—holy smokes, that dirty smirk that makes his dimples pop—could make even a nun blush. His gaze roves over my face before dipping to my chest, an intimate appraisal that makes my body hum with recognition. His eyes are mesmerizing, and I could get lost in them for hours. There’s no denying the man is drop-dead gorgeous. Every time we’ve been together at Eden, the chemistry has been intoxicating. The other goddesses are always insanely jealous when he selects me. He’s clearly the standout of Eden’s clientele—tall, with broad shoulders, a trim waist, and sculpted abs that lead into a delicious V-line. I’m surprised a fight hasn’t broken out over him. Usually he’s in a tailored suit, but tonight, from what I can tell, his jeans sit low on his hips and a tight black T-shirt conceals those lickable abs.
I wonder if his date knows about the V-line that leads to absolute heaven.
She’s a stunning brunette with curves in all the right places, a stark contrast to my slim and petite frame.
Or is she his wife?
I resist the urge to glance at them again but fail miserably. With nothing else to keep my attention while I wait for my mother to arrive, my eyes are repeatedly drawn to them. Their conversation looks tense, and he visibly stiffens when she places her hand on his arm. Maybe they’re just another rich couple who hate each other. Doesn’t matter, I shouldn’t care anyway. He barely acknowledged me after giving me the once-over. Given our scorching-hot encounters, a smile or even a small wave would have been nice. I’m sure nobody wants to run into their escort in public but it’s not like I’m going to walk up to his companion and say, Hey there, did you know he pays me to kneel at his feet before he fucks my brains out? That I love it when he spanks me? I pull my phone from my purse to avoid staring at them like a creep. Their relationship is none of my business.
Mindlessly, I scroll through social media while I wait. A smile dances on my lips as I come across a picture of Beth, who’s just posted a selfie with the caption, Missing my sis xx . She’s making a sad pout face, with her index finger trailing down her cheek as if indicating a rolling tear. She looks tired; her cheeks have lost their color, and her eyes seem dull. I hope she’s looking after herself while I’m away. Leaving my sister on her own makes me uncomfortable. At sixteen she’s capable of taking care of herself for a few days, but still, I worry, especially with her condition. I’ve been her guardian since she was six years old, and it hasn’t been easy to walk that fine line between parent and sister, especially considering I was barely an adult myself when I took her under my wing and moved to Australia.
God, I miss her so much.
The sooner I leave New York and get back home to Sydney, the better. I comment on her post, Miss you too, poo brain x. My sister and I are the epitome of maturity and sophistication.
I close the app, check the time on my phone and slip it back into my purse. She’s late.
Anxiety and frustration simmer through my veins. Of course she’s making me wait.
My mother and stepfather are part of the wealthy and powerful New York elite. With their influence alone, they have the power to move Beth to the top of any heart transplant list in the world. Yet every request or favor comes at a cost with them. The only question is how much.
My mother is still beautiful at fifty-five. Tall, British, and blonde, she commands attention wherever she goes. Her flawless look, meticulously crafted by her plastic surgeon, is the main weapon in her arsenal. Over the years, she’s undergone at least fifteen surgeries, from nose jobs to breast implants to a designer vagina. I remember her eagerly showing me pictures of her new vagina, saying, “Darling, when you get to my age, your pussy will get loose and saggy too. No man will want you then.” However, her smooth, manufactured body conceals a rotten core. Everything she says and does is driven by ulterior motives. She relishes playing the role of the dumb, insecure blonde, projecting an image of innocence, but it’s all fabricated. A master manipulator, she demands constant attention and praise, exploiting men and friends alike in her ascent through society, often crushing their souls in the process.
When she hooked up with Mark, I took off with Beth to Australia. I had just turned eighteen and couldn’t bear to endure her toxic behavior any longer, fearing it would crush my soul too and corrupt my little sister. Beth was still so young and impressionable; she needed a mother who would prioritize her wellbeing. So, I gathered what little money I had saved, and we left to start our own lives as far from Mother’s chaos and drama as we could get. Her parting words, “If you think you can do better, be my guest,” were the last I heard from her when she signed over Beth’s guardianship. She didn’t care that we had left; she was still engulfed in her new romance. In the ten years since, she’s never made contact, not even a single text to check in on us. To be fair, neither did we. I wanted a fresh start for us.
So I’m not entirely surprised to see Mark, my stepfather, enter the restaurant alone. I was expecting Mother to waltz through the door in one of her obscenely revealing dresses, her ridiculously huge breasts on show. I should have known that she would send him instead.
He’s rather attractive for an older gentleman. He’s wearing his trademark gray three-piece suit with a black tie. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen him wear anything else. Not that we’ve spent a lot of time together. His salt-and-pepper hair has become more salt than pepper over the years, but it adds to his distinguished look. And his stomach is slightly rounder than the last time I saw him. He catches my eye and nods in greeting before confidently striding to my table, bypassing the hostess.
“Hailee. Good to see you. How are you doing, honey?” He gives me a quick kiss on my cheek and settles into the seat across from me. My nose involuntarily scrunches at his condescending pet name, but I quickly recover before he notices.
“Where’s Liz?” I refuse to refer to her as Mom. She doesn’t deserve that title.
“Elizabeth is in Monaco with her friends.”
I snort, unable to hold back my disbelief. Her daughter reaches out to her for help after ten years, and she can’t be bothered to show up. Typical .
Mark shoots me a look as he halts the passing waitress to order a scotch on the rocks.
“Sorry. I was expecting to see her since, you know, it’s been ten years and all.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “How have you been?”
From what I’ve heard, he’s no fool. Match made in heaven with my mother, it would seem. He’s vicious in business and ruthless in high society. Powerful men like Mark don’t like to hear the word “no” in any capacity. They always get what they want, which makes me even more nervous to be sitting here with him. Despite my mother’s shortcomings, I can handle her. I know her and her manipulative ways. With Mark, I’m flying blind. I wipe my sweaty hands on my napkin in my lap.
“We’re well, thank you. Your mother and I were surprised to get your call. To be honest, we thought you’d never come back.”
“Oh, umm… We’re not coming back…” I fidget with my napkin under the table and take a deep breath. “Beth needs a heart transplant, and we need your help in moving her up the transplant list. Her heart has deteriorated badly, she basically has no quality of life. That’s why I reached out to Liz, to see if she—or you—you both—would be willing to assist.”
I’m stumbling over my words, thrown by Mark’s presence when I had planned for Mother. They have enough money and power to solve world hunger; a phone call to the transplant board is not exactly a big ask. But Mark’s expression remains blank, devoid of sympathy.
“I know why you’re here, Hailee. I’m well aware of everything about your lives in Australia. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t keep tabs on my wife’s kids?” My eyes momentarily widen in surprise. He scoffs. “You’re na?ve if you thought I wouldn’t watch over you. Knowledge is power.”
I swallow roughly. Maybe I am na?ve to think my mother would let us walk out of her life, no strings attached. It never crossed my mind that we were being followed or monitored. However, I’m not so na?ve to think he’d make that phone call to the transplant board out of the kindness of his heart. Everything has a price.
“How’s Eden treating you?”
I freeze, his sly smile sending a shiver of revulsion down my spine. I swallow back the bile threatening to rise in my throat. Since he’s brought it up, there’s no need to beat around the bush. So, I bluntly ask the question we’ve been dancing around.
“What do you want in exchange for the call, Mark?”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned at Eden, it’s men. It’s opened my eyes to the desires and whims of the rich and powerful. When you have everything you could possibly desire at the snap of your fingers, including women, life becomes predictable and boring. It’s all about upping the ante—what more can you risk to chase that sweet release of dopamine and endorphins? It all circles back to sex eventually. So I’m not surprised by the direction this conversation is taking. The notion of “once a whore, always a whore” is difficult to shake in the eyes of men.
I take a deep breath and compose my features into a nonchalant expression, preparing for his inevitable response. Regardless of his demand, I refuse to let him see my discomfort or disgust.
His lips form a shrewd smile. “I assure you, it’s not what you’re imagining. Well, not exactly.” He tilts his head, considering his next words carefully. “You’re aware that your mother and I didn’t have any children together, and I don’t have any offspring from my previous marriages. When the time comes for me to retire, I want to ensure that my empire and considerable wealth are carried forward through the generations. I want to leave a legacy. I want an heir.”
Oh God, fuck no!
I suppress the urge to gag. He must notice the queasy look on my face.
“For Christ’s sake, not me!” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He has the decency to look a little green at the thought. “Both of you must return to New York and rejoin our family. Then, you’ll settle down, marry and start a family of your own. But you’ll marry someone of my choosing, someone from a prestigious family. I’ll ensure Beth gets her new heart, but in exchange, I want you to marry and provide me with a grandchild.”
My relief is short-lived. I’m grateful he’s not asking me to reproduce with him. But an arranged marriage?
“Do I get any say in who you choose?”
“I will select the best possible candidate for you. I know what it takes to run an empire and the business acumen necessary to pass on to your child.”
“But Beth doesn’t have the luxury of time; she needs the surgery now.”
“Beth can have her surgery as soon as a match becomes available. The only stipulation is that you’re married within the next twelve months and actively trying to conceive. But don’t even think about fucking me over on this, Hailee. If I even get the slightest hint that you’re trying to worm your way out of it, you’ll regret it. And I’ll ensure Beth suffers the consequences.” The cruel twist of his lips slices into my chest, stealing my breath.
I lift the glass of water to my dry lips, swallowing the cool liquid to calm my nerves and curb the fear pulsing through my body. Even if I end up with some asshole for a husband, I can play the part of a wife. Sacrificing my own happiness for Beth’s sake is a no-brainer. I have no hesitation in agreeing to the marriage. Beth’s life is worth it. But deliberately bringing another life into this twisted, transactional agreement warrants more consideration than I can give at this moment.
“I’m not asking you to do anything different to what you’re already doing at Eden. You sell your body to multiple men for short periods of time. I’m asking you to be with one man for an extended period.”
And there it is: once a whore, always a whore.
“You know this is insane, right? I’m not cattle to be fucking sold and bred!” I exclaim, my voice thick with fury as my body trembles with anger.
Mark rises from the table abruptly, buttoning his suit jacket.
“That’s fine, Hailee. I’m not forcing you; I’m only offering you a chance to give Beth her life back.”
“Wait… please, just… wait,” I plead, rubbing my forehead.
He slowly sits back down. I take a few deep, cleansing breaths to calm my racing heart.
“I don’t suppose you’d do this out of the kindness of your heart, you know, because Beth is your stepdaughter and all?” I ask, my tone dripping with sarcasm. Deep down, I already know the answer.
I sigh in resignation. “I need time to think about it.”
“Of course, take the time you need. But don’t take too long. Beth is relying on you.”
It’s a low blow, and he knows it. He’s got me exactly where he wants me. I came here tonight to see my mother, and now I’m leaving contemplating becoming a mother.
What a prick.
“I’ve already got interviews lined up this week for potential suitors,” Mark says, his tone brisk. “Let me know by tomorrow if I should cancel them. Do you still have my number?”
I nod numbly.
“Great. Let me know your decision in the morning.”
He sighs at my lack of response and covers my sweaty hand with his dry palm. “I’m not your enemy, Hailee. Trust me to choose someone suitable. I’m not sentencing you to a life of misery. Your mother and I only want what’s best for you and Beth. We want you back in our lives.”
Yeah, right.
My mother couldn’t be bothered to be here with her husband to ambush me. Apparently, drastically altering the course of my life isn’t significant enough to warrant postponing her holiday. Sunning herself in Monaco is obviously more important. And wanting what’s best for us? Please. Leveraging Beth’s life is a messed-up way of showing it.
“I’ll let you know.”
Mark stands and tosses a couple of notes onto the table to cover his drink. “I’ll await your call, honey.” I glare at him, not bothering to hide my revulsion at the name this time. He leans down to kiss my cheek and stalks out of the restaurant with the same easy confidence he entered with, knowing I’ll agree to his terms.
I pull out my phone and order a rideshare. The bottle of wine in my hotel’s minibar is calling my name. When you’re contemplating a decision as monumental as this, copious amounts of alcohol are necessary.