Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
Jasmine
F our Weeks Later
I tried to concentrate on the book I’d recently bought to distract me, but my thoughts had a mind of their own and kept circling back to the questions I had no answers for.
Had I done something wrong with Eric? Or had I done exactly what he’d wanted from me, and he no longer needed me anymore?
These were anxiety-ridden worries I wasn’t accustomed to having when it came to clients, and I hated that they sprung up so easily for me as the weeks after visiting Eric’s parents passed by, and I heard little to nothing from him.
What was truly embarrassing wasn’t just the fact that I kept obsessing over the situation. It was the way all that vulnerability had funneled down into that morning sex that we had before we came back to Florida. It had felt different, because what that trip had entailed was something different, and now I felt myself regretting ever giving in to the feelings that had allowed Eric to see me so damn vulnerable.
In the last few weeks since returning from New York, I’d had no communication with him, and any of the events I was supposed to accompany him to had been changed or cancelled in the joint calendar we both had access to. There had been no explanation, and honestly, as a paying client, he didn’t owe me one. I had to remind myself, numerous times, that our arrangement wasn’t the type that I could just pick up the phone and demand answers like I was his girlfriend—and honestly, if it had been any other client I would have been thrilled and relieved to have a month to myself, paid in full.
I had to keep reminding myself that Eric and I had a contract , not a relationship. Ours was an “as needed” business arrangement, and up to this point my fee was still being promptly deposited into my bank account like a retainer, so there was no reason— business-wise —for me to be as upset as I was. Eric had no obligation to me, other than financially, which he’d continued to fulfill.
Emotionally, however, was a whole other story because the truth was, I was disappointed by him essentially ghosting me, and that fucking hurt .
“Stupid, stupid,” I chastised myself, not for the first time in the last few weeks.
I was still stewing on the entire scenario on the way to Florie’s later that day, where I was meeting Dominque for an afternoon lunch. I needed her advice and wisdom, because I had no idea what to do about the predicament I’d found myself in, or what to do next. I had every reason to end the contract on my end, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not without some kind of explanation from Eric.
Which left us at a stalemate.
I arrived in my Uber just as Dominque stepped out of her car, an elegant brow raised as soon as she saw me. “You look like you’re ready to skin something alive, dear.”
“I just might,” I muttered, stepping in beside her to walk into Florie’s.
We didn’t say much until we were seated, orders for our drinks and meals taken, and then we were left to our own devices.
“Alright, spill,” Dominque said once our wine was poured and the waiter left our table. “I thought we were just going to have a lovely, uneventful lunch, but that look on your face tells me that something more is going on than just you wanting to have tea time with your favorite old madame.”
I didn’t hold back. I explained the situation with Eric from start to finish, from him calling me to take the trip with him to visit his mother and father in New York, to me telling him everything about my own parents, and even the intimate level of sex we’d had before we left. I didn’t leave out any detail, mostly because Dominique could smell omission from a mile away, and partly because I wanted to know that I was one hundred percent vindicated in my feelings that Eric’s silence was bullshit. Or at the very least, have her put her foot down and tell me that I definitely crossed a line, and I should never do it again because remaining impersonal was the nature of the work that we were involved in.
To my surprise, she did none of that. She was quiet after I was done speaking and sat there in thought, her fingers trailing along the line of her jaw, which she did when she was in a particularly deep state of thought.
“I see,” she finally said after our lunch orders were delivered to the table. “So, basically, Eric needed you, you answered the call, and it went better than the two of you expected. You were both vulnerable, and you indulged it despite your better instincts telling you that it was something that you wouldn’t be able to take back. Now, he’s stopped talking to you, but hasn’t ended your contract. Has he continued paying you?”
“Yes, and that’s the part I don’t understand!” I said, bristling all over again as I pushed my salad around on my plate. “Why won’t he just cut me loose?”
“Hmm.” Was her only response.
I sighed, annoyed. “So, what’s the verdict? Do I need to start looking for another long time client? Was the whole thing just really stupid of me? Because that’s what it’s starting to feel like. I don’t understand what I did wrong.”
Dominique took a bite of her grilled salmon and tilted her head. “What makes you think that you did anything wrong?”
“He’s not talking to me?” I waved a hand in the air. “He’s cancelled all of our plans?”
Dominique laughed, even though I found absolutely nothing humorous about the situation. “Jas, had you done something wrong, you wouldn’t still be on his payroll for events that he’s cancelling himself. Tell me something. When you were returning to Florida after that intimate night together, how did everything feel to you as it was settling in?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what were the emotions you felt when the high of needing to provide for him, and the euphoria of finding someone who you could relate to, started to wear off?”
I was silent. Dominque raised her brow. “Well?” she prompted. “Don’t keep me in all of this suspense, my dear.”
“It was kind of terrifying,” I admitted truthfully. “All of this shit we unloaded with one another, it’s a lot to process, you know? I didn’t know what he was going to think of me once it all settled in. I worried that maybe he’d pity me for the choices I’d had to make to survive, or how sad it was that I couldn’t get my shit together after my parents died. Maybe he’d think I was…” I shifted in my seat, hedging around what I wanted to say, but forced it out anyway. “That he’d think I was emotionally easy, and I didn’t want him thinking of me that way. It’s fucking embarrassing.”
Dominque clicked her tongue. “So the problem is that you opened up far more than you ever had with any other client, and you were fearful of being judged for it after the fact? Especially with a man you’re only with because of work.”
Well, when she put it like that, it only made the situation worse, didn’t it? Either way, I nodded. “Yeah. That, exactly.”
Dominque chuckled. “And you’re under the impression that you’re the only one who’s feeling that way?”
I opened my mouth, only to close it again before I could say anything. I hadn’t considered that Eric might have felt the same way.
Dominque smirked. “I’m not going to tell you definitively what’s going through Eric’s mind right now, but if he hasn’t outright chosen to end your contract, I would simply suggest that you hold out and see what happens. I do know Eric well enough to say that he isn’t a man to punish the women who entertain him over his own emotions. But in this line of work emotions are a messy concept for men that they steadfastly avoid, which is why the arrangement works both ways because it’s transactional, without those expectations. Trust me. I’ve been through so many men at this point, and that remains the one and only constant between all of them.”
Unlike most of my conversations with Dominique, I did not end up leaving my lunch with her feeling any more confident or any less agitated. My irritation only seemed to escalate the longer it took Eric to contact me. Fine, maybe he was feeling all jumbled up inside, too, but did he really think it was so easy for me to spill my guts in turn and let him see the most vulnerable pieces of me?
I couldn’t help but feel used, and that was a feeling that was not easily placated by a little luncheon and a vague, “everything will be fine if you give it time”.
So, when Eric did finally send me a message by an impersonal email, I was not overcome with giddy excitement or even relief that I would continue to have work without worry. I was just more annoyed. But I was nothing if not a professional who honored their contract and obligations.
He wanted me to attend an investor’s ball for one of the galleries that he was a part of keeping afloat. Money donated by like-minded rich folk, smaller business owners who liked to invest in the local communities, and such. I almost didn’t care about it, but I knew that if I pettily blew him off so he’d feel the same sting I’d been living with the past month, it wouldn’t reflect badly on him. No, it would make me look like the spurned woman who wasn’t getting what she wanted.
Christ. This felt like amateur escort bullshit.
The small amount of petty that I was able to muster, however, was in the way I dressed. Eric preferred I wear a certain aesthetic to his venues, and I knew this. Allowing myself to be attractive wasn’t the issue; anything in the realm of risqué, however, was.
He’d been a jackass as far as I was concerned, so rather than any of the number of outfits he’d bought for me to suit the circles Eric ran with, I chose a knee-length red dress. It hugged my figure and with the way the neckline plunged, gave a good look at cleavage I knew Eric would frown upon. Whether or not I was playing with fire was a secondary concern of mine. I just wanted…fuck, I didn’t know. I wanted it to be known that I wasn’t happy with the way I’d been treated, and Eric would see that first hand, loud and clear, when he saw me.
And if Jeff’s reaction to seeing me when he picked me up from my apartment was anything to go by, then I was on the right track. His eyes were wide by the time I slipped into the backseat, and he cleared his throat when he realized that I noticed that he was staring.
“Miss Greene,” he said, nodding his head politely. “Good to see you again. Are you sure you’re…ready for me to take you to meet Mr. Maxim?”
I gave him the sweetest of smiles. “Of course, Jeff. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He seemed to be momentarily flustered by my rebuttal, then quickly recovered. “No reason, Miss. Just making sure, as usual,” he finally replied, then shut my door, got behind the wheel, and pulled away from the apartment.
Jeff had never before asked me if I was sure I was ready to meet Eric. The fact that he thought, or rather knew, my dress might displease Eric would have made me laugh if I cared enough. I was in a mood, and unfortunately for Eric, he was going to bear the brunt of that mood as I saw fit.
When we arrived at the venue, I knew that Eric would be waiting for me. If it was Jeff that picked me up, he always alerted Eric when we were on the way, so that he could escort me in. Usually, he seemed excited, in his own reserved way, to see me. I had to wonder if Jeff gave him the head’s up about my appearance before we arrived, however, because Eric was exactly curbside, and he looked stone-faced as Jeff pulled up beside him.
That unreadable expression remained as he opened the door for me and saw me. “Jasmine,” he said, almost through his teeth, like he had his mouth clenched on something tough.
I put on my best ‘fuck you’ smile, slipping my hand into his own outstretched one as he helped me out of the car. “Eric,” I said, my own voice candy coated and indifferent. “It’s good to see you again.”
His expression faltered just a little there at my tone, before his mouth settled back into a disapproving frown that delighted me. “What are you wearing?”
“Clothes,” I said, deadpan.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Yes, but why these clothes?”
Such an obtuse man, and the fact that he hadn’t yet realized the reason why I was being so defiant only upped my current rebellious behavior. I looked directly into his eyes, even knowing I was risking his ire before we walked in to the gallery. “Is there something wrong with the way I’m dressed, Eric?”
His eyes roamed over my frame, a mix of confusion and frustration passing over his handsome features as he looked back at me. “Was I unclear in what you were to wear tonight?”
I shook my head, and gave him a slight shrug of my shoulder. “Nope. You were perfectly clear.”
He had the fucking gall to look shocked. “So you dressed like this on purpose?”
My own anger finally crested and spilled over. “Dressed like what, Eric? Like an escort? Like a person you’re paying to come to these little events whenever your whims desire? Like a whore?”
The spiel came out of my mouth before I could stop it, but all the agitation, hurt, and disappointment that had plagued me for weeks spewed out in that little tirade, the vitriol of my feelings forcing themselves from within for Eric to feel, too.
Eric seemed taken aback, and additionally, more displeased than he had been before. He must have been banking on me being confused about his wardrobe request as opposed to be being outright defiant of his stupid rules, but that was going to be his problem, not mine. According to our contract, my one and only job was to stay by his side, make decent and intelligent conversation, and make him look good.
That, I could do, so I slipped my arm in his and looked at him expectantly. “Shall we, Mr. Maxim?”
He did not justify my question with a response.
Eric led us up the stairs and into the venue, which was styled after old Roman architecture with arches and pillars set into the building. It was not the gallery that these investors were putting their money and time into, but it was large enough to cater to them all and show off some of the pieces of sculpted works that would eventually call the gallery their home.
It was not necessarily Eric’s first choice in venue—his first choice would have been the gallery itself—but another investor had insisted and used his money and charm to secure it. I knew this, because it was something that Eric had spoken about before, when we had initially met and he had been explaining the various events I would be expected to accompany him to. I wondered if he realized that I had actually paid attention to those details, or if he just assumed I’d discard those facts since he was so easily capable of doing the same thing.
We said nothing more to each other, but the tension between us was now palpable. Even though I was cordial and put on a smile, I wondered if others could feel that conflict, too, as we walked by. I wanted that to be the case. To make it impossible for Eric to ignore my feelings or hide behind his carefully constructed veneer of being totally in control of everything at all times. A part of me wanted to shatter that control, but he remained just as cool and stoic as ever.
Maybe that’s why, unlike other events we’d attended together, Eric didn’t go out of his way to introduce me to people. If someone approached him, he would merely call me his date, but I could tell that even doing that much was uncomfortable for him.
Each time I put on a wide smile, though. Told the person my name. Really emphasized that I was here with Eric and even fawned over him, which I knew he hated. I didn’t push any farther than that, but it was enough that I could practically feel his temperature rising beside me with each new interaction, until he finally pulled me out of sight of other people, behind one of the massive pillars that served as form and decor for the venue.
“What are you doing, Jasmine?” he asked, his tone sharp and his eyes flaring with displeasure. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”
My heart withered a bit, but I held tight to my own indignation. “Well, that makes both of us for not understanding how the other’s acting,” I snapped back. “I’m just trying to have a good time, Eric. You want me here to be something pretty on your arm, that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it? If you’re not happy with me , you could ask someone else to come with you—”
“My, my,” came a male voice from behind us. “I had heard that Eric Maxim had someone pretty on his arm tonight, but I would have never thought that it was Jasmine Greene.”
The both of us straightened at the intrusion, though I had to be the only one whose spine went cold at the familiarity of that voice. When I looked over and verified who it was, that chill turned straight to ice.
James Dupont used to be a client of mine—one of the first after I became an escort under Dominique’s wing. He was, in a word, a bastard. Far too possessive to warrant dealing with, and while arrogance was something that ran in most of the circles of the men that I entertained, James’ conceit bordered on dangerous. He had a quick temper for a slighted ego, and what was worse, he didn’t like being told no, to anything, even on clauses that were negotiated in contracts and were one hundred percent a no-go.
What the hell was he doing here? I didn’t have time to deal with him and Eric’s shit, too.
Eric pulled away from me, though he stayed at my side. I would have clocked it as protectiveness if it weren’t for the fact that I couldn’t convince myself, even in this, that Eric cared that much about me.
“James,” Eric said stiffly. “I didn’t realize you knew Jasmine.”
“ Knowing is a bit of a stretch,” I interjected.
James smirked, a toothy grin showing off what were abnormally pointed canines, giving him a wolfish appearance. “I think that’s a little harsh, don’t you, Jasmine?” His gaze all but undressed me as it flitted down my body with a familiarity that made me nauseous. “We got along just fine with each other a while back,” he said, looking to Eric. “You know what I mean, right?”
Yep, still a raging asshole.
Eric’s eyes narrowed just so at James’ offensive words and tone, but he looked down at me rather than keep that scrutiny on James. Another round of annoyance coursed through me; was I somehow the problem? In this world, it was ridiculous to think I hadn’t escorted for anyone in Eric’s social circle, except Eric. That wasn’t how this worked.
Then again, James hadn’t liked client overlap, either.
“I’m Eric’s date for tonight,” I said clearly. “That’s all.”
“Hmm. I’m sure.” Smirking, James slid another looked to Eric. “Dinner’s almost ready. I expect you and Jasmine will be there, too? I hear catering is planning something delicious for all of us. Lots of imported meats and desserts.”
Eric shook his head. “No. We’re leaving early.”
This was a surprise to me. Eric never left venues early, not since that first one, but that had been under very different circumstances than this. Was another man having known me really enough grounds to do that?
James seem to delight in the obvious tension between Eric and me. “But the investors—”
“Can tell me all about their thoughts in an email,” he said through clenched teeth. “We’re leaving.”
Eric took my arm, no room for protest as he led me out of the venue and back out to the parking lot. We’d been here barely an hour, maybe a little over it if I was being generous, and suddenly now we were leaving?
“What’s your problem tonight, Eric?” I asked as he typed away on his phone—presumably calling for Jeff to come get us unexpectedly early. “There was no reason for us to leave so soon.”
“There are plenty of reasons,” he muttered irritably. Finally, he put his phone away and looked at me. “I didn’t expect you to know someone like James.”
The accusation in his voice stung. “So, you can know him, but I can’t have worked for him before? You seem to know him well yourself.”
“He’s the reason the venue was here instead of the gallery,” he said in a harsh tone, indicating there was some kind of bad blood between the two. “We’re not close.”
“And you think that James and I are close?” I asked incredulously. “Just because I worked for him before?”
“Working for someone doesn’t mean you didn’t get close.”
Again, more assertion in his tone. I bristled, about to snap at him when Jeff pulled up with the car. He stepped out, opening the back door for us.
I gave Eric a glare before slipping in, Eric following not long after.
“Shall we head to your place, sir?” Jeff asked, which had been our normal routine before the weekend with Eric’s parents.
“Yes—”
“No,” I said, cutting off Eric, pissed that he’d even make that assumption when I was so fucking furious with him. “Take me to my apartment. Mr. Maxim and I won’t be staying with each other tonight.”
Eric sighed, and Jeff looked between the two of us with an uneasy glance before shutting the door and getting back into the front of the car. He started the vehicle, driving off with the strained silence stretching between Eric and me.