Chapter 18 - Erin
Erin
My mouth falls open as I try to get as much oxygen to my brain as possible. What the hell just happened?
I know what just happened. August just kissed me.
And that was like no kiss I’ve ever had in my life, and thank God, because if I had those kinds of kisses in my life—the kind that rob you of breath but are so good you don’t care—I’d be a dead woman.
When my vision sharpens, he’s staring at me, his chest rising and falling like he’s gasping for breath too. Then, a movement behind him catches my eye. The Russian couple just walked past.
I snap my mouth closed. So, that’s why August kissed me just now. Not because he wanted to, but because we almost blew our cover back there and we had to be more convincing as a couple.
My heart plummets.
Of course that’s the reason.
What other reason would there be?
He wouldn’t be kissing me because he wanted to. I mean, he’s an absolute specimen of a man. He could do a lot better than me. There must be thousands of women out there half my age, cellulite-free and childless—the kind of women he’d actually want.
I have to remind myself that kiss is earning me two hundred thousand dollars. It’s fortunate I didn’t know just how good his kisses are, because I’d probably have given them to him for free.
Without another word, August takes my hand and leads me up the stairs to our suite. Once inside, he turns to face me with a calm exterior, as if nothing just happened.
“That was close,” he says after a short, sharp exhale.
I agree but my tone is flat. “Let’s hope the kiss was convincing enough.”
He watches me with darkness behind his eyes. “Hmm, I’m not sure.”
I’m stunned. The part I played in that kiss was completely authentic, which can only mean he’s not convinced by his own authenticity. My heart drops another inch.
“What did the blonde say?”
The subject change makes my head spin but I recall what I heard.
“Something about tomorrow and keeping a straight head—a level head.”
He nods for me to continue but I didn’t get much more than that.
“I can only understand bits, not everything,” I remind him. “That was all the business talk I gathered. Apart from that, she mentioned a place in Ontario a few times.”
“Wayne County? What kind of place? A house? A street?”
I fold my arms, annoyed at the interrogation and ashamed of my earlier loss of composure. “A building, I think. But I don’t know what kind. Maybe their home, I’m not sure.”
“What about lunch? Did you notice any unusual behavior among the wives?”
“No. None. Everyone was pleasant and no one breathed a word about the negotiations.”
His gaze softens, as if his mind is someplace else. “Okay, thanks,” he says eventually.
When he doesn’t say anything more, I go to the bathroom to wash and change.
The first thing I see when I emerge back into the main suite is August dressed in running shorts and a tee. My gaze drops to his thighs and I gulp. They’re thick, tan and muscular. It’s obvious he works out religiously.
He’s striding toward the door.
“Are you heading out?” I ask, my chest hollowing.
I can’t escape this feeling that I’ve done something wrong. Maybe he could tell I wasn’t acting when I kissed him back earlier, and I’m compromising our agreement.
Maybe he’s regretting bringing me here because now he has to suffer through five more days of awkwardness. A blush seeps into my skin. I can’t believe I was so brazen. There has to be a balance between dialing up the act and throwing myself into it headfirst.
He turns to speak over his shoulder but his lashes don’t lift. “I’m going for a run,” he says. “Don’t wait up for me.”
Then he opens the door and leaves.
I’m still standing in the center of the room five minutes after the door has closed.
I’m confused—by my own feelings and by him. And now that I’m alone in our suite, I’m beginning to wonder why I came here and if it really was the right thing to do.
Part of me thinks it was reckless and silly.
August is a complete stranger and this place is in the middle of nowhere.
He could easily murder me and dispose of my body in the vast forest, never to be found.
A tremor starts up at the base of my spine but a voice in the back of head puts it on pause.
I might not know August King very well, but I know with a certainty I can’t explain, he wouldn’t hurt me.
I sit on the bed and take my phone out of my purse. There are three missed calls from Mallorie. Shit, I forgot to check in.
I quickly drop her a text to let her know I’m fine and about to go to sleep, then I dial my mom.
After many rings, during which she’s probably rolling her eyes and debating whether or not she can be bothered to talk right now, she answers.
“Hey, Mom.” My bright voice is a sure sign I’m overcompensating already.
“You’re alive, then.”
“I’ve only been gone a day.”
“Two days,” she huffs. “I was about to call the police.”
Funny how she could go weeks without speaking to me when I was back in California, and now she’s got Paige under her roof, she can’t go two days.
“Is Paige there?”
“She’s sulking.”
I chew away a grin. Of course she is.
“I am not sulking,” Paige’s voice cuts in. “I’m resting my face.”
“That face has been resting for a week,” Mom says.
“Mom, can you put her on?”
“She’s on speaker. I refuse to mediate.”
“Paige?”
“What.”
“Hi, honey.”
“Why are you being weird?”
“What? I’m not being weird.”
“You never call me honey.”
“How’s school?”
“I hate it here,” Paige replies. “I can’t make friends and the school is too big and loud.”
I smile faintly. “Give it time, Paige. You’ll make friends. You’ll find your people.”
“I had my people,” Paige snaps. “And my boyfriend.”
Ah. There it is.
Mom clicks her tongue. “The boy with the eyebrows?”
“Grams, everyone has eyebrows.”
“But the ones in the photograph were kind of aggressive.”
I listen to their exchange with a brow of my own raised. Grams? That’s… sweet?
Paige’s voice quietens. “He posted a photo with another girl.”
I wince. “He did? That was fast.” I haven’t particularly wanted to return to California, but right now I would happily hitch myself a ride just so I could track down Killian McAndrews and give him some strongly worded motherly advice. “I’m sorry, Paige.”
“She has a nose ring and a bad vibe,” Paige continues.
Mom huffs. “All vibes are bad at your age.”
“I want to go home,” Paige says. “If you’d just let me stay with Dad, Killian wouldn’t have run off with ‘bad vibe.’
“Darling, if he was worth it, he’d have held out for you. But he hasn’t. If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.”
“We don’t even have our own place,” she whines. “And we can’t stay with Grams forever.”
“Well, you can,” I hear my mother say, unhelpfully.
“Look,” I say, my tone sharp. “This job is really well paid. I’ll be able to put a down payment on a place soon. I just need you to be patient a little while longer.”
“I thought waitressing didn’t pay well.” I can hear the pout in Paige’s voice.
“Maybe she’s doing more than waitressing,” Mom offers.
“More? Like what?” Paige asks.
“Maybe the customer service goes beyond serving food, if you catch my drift.”
“Mom!” I have to stop her there because she’s closer to the truth than she could possibly realize.
I’m not selling myself in the sexual sense—although having felt August’s body crushing into mine and his lips devouring me, I’m feeling less opposed to the idea—but I am getting paid for my presence. I’m basically an escort.
I wind up the conversation and promise to call again tomorrow. Then I climb under the covers, exhausted, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.