Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
Jasmine
H oly shit. I stared at the three huge boxes that had been delivered to my apartment, all addressed to me. I hadn’t ordered anything, and as far as I knew, Dominique hadn’t sent me anything, either. It was nowhere near my birthday. There wasn’t anything on the outside of the boxes to tell me who the secret gift giver might have been.
Opening them all up, though, now had my living room scattered with art supplies. Fine quality. Large quantities. Exquisite, expensive brushes from places I couldn’t even pronounce. Gorgeous, hand-carved easels. Oils in nearly every color, acrylics, watercolors, premium papers, even multi-sized canvases.
It didn’t take long to put two and two together to realize who was responsible for this delivery. Butterflies in the pit of my stomach fluttered. Eric must have placed the considerable order, but when would he have had the time to put together something like this? When we were at the art café? Is that what he’d been doing on his phone when I thought that he was focused on work?
I couldn’t hold back the happy smile that made its way to my face. The excitement that coursed through me as I moved the boxes from my living room into my spare room—now an art studio—was one I couldn’t contain. There were so many projects I could do. So many experimentations these supplies would allow me to try.
Clients had given me presents before, but there was something far more intimate and special in this gift from Eric. Usually, what I received was sexy lingerie. Extra “fun money” to do with what I wanted. Lavish dinners. Pieces of jewellery I really had no interest in. There was one point where I had gotten an all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii that I ended up giving to Dominique for her birthday because that long travel across the country hadn’t appealed to me. Nothing that was quite so personal as art supplies that spoke directly to my heart, but then again, I had never let clients know about that side of me. I could appreciate art, understand it, but I never let them know that I too, created it, because for so many painful years it had been something that had been tied to the past. Quite honestly, the death of my parents had been the death of my inspiration and creativity.
Yet…Eric had seen that side of me as I let it finally reemerge, out of the darkness and back into the light. And now, he was whole-heartedly indulging that passion of mine. Seeing below the surface of just being the woman who accompanied him on dates and occasionally warmed his bed.
Trying not to think too deeply about the whys of the gift, I lost myself in putting my new things away until my phone pinged with a text.
Are you free tonight?
It was from Eric. Simple and to the point, surprising me because he never requested to see me during the week, unless it was a scheduled event. Before I could stop the smile of anticipation from spreading over my face, it broke through. My answer was, admittedly, fast. A quick flurry of fingers over the phone’s keyboard.
Yes, I’m free. What time?
His reply was swift. Two hours. My place? Dress comfortably. I’ll have Jeff come by and pick you up.
Oh. His place and no dress code. That gave me pause. So, it wasn’t an impromptu function. Or a date, because Eric and I did not date . We had a working relationship, but that had been the extent of our time together. The gears in my mind turned, because this wasn’t normal behavior when it came to Eric and our arrangement. Seeking my company for something more casual was something he seemed to avoid. Or maybe this meeting wasn’t casual at all and he wanted to discuss the terms of our contract, maybe even end it?
The thought of parting ways with Eric made my chest hurt, even though I knew it would happen eventually. Still, I answered, unable to refuse this man anything. I’ll be ready when Jeff gets here.
Trying not to overthink things, I jumped in the shower, then dressed in black jeans and a nice blouse with a pair of black leather boots. When Jeff arrived, I headed downstairs, slipped into the car, and rode in silence to Eric’s building.
I took the elevator up to his penthouse, and when the doors slid open I stepped into the foyer, where Eric was waiting—thanks to Jeff alerting him to my arrival. He looked as though he’d just gotten home from the office, still wearing navy blue slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, though the sleeves were rolled up to his forearms.
The first thing I noticed was that my excitement at seeing him was not met in kind. Eric had a pensive look on his face, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. I knew Eric well enough now to read his body language, and his told me that something important was troubling him.
The cheerful greeting that I had on my tongue dissipated as I prepared myself for whatever was about to happen. Trying to navigate his mood, I said nothing initially, though I wanted to thank him for the gifts and ask him what this meeting was about, but something gave me pause. Was it his parents? Had something happened to them? Was there something more? Was it me and something I did or didn’t do?
Fuck it. The anxiety now swirling inside of me prompted me to speak. “Are you alright, Eric?” I asked as I followed him into the living room. The answer was obvious, he wasn’t okay—but it was a far easier conversation starter than “what happened”.
He sighed, turning around to face me as he shoved his fingers through his salt and pepper hair, mussing the already dishevelled strands, as if that wasn’t the first time today that he’d tugged at his hair. “I wanted to talk to you in person about something,” he said, his gaze searching mine—for what, I had no idea. “I know we don’t have anything scheduled until next weekend, and I apologize for this being so out of the blue, but I assume you had time to spare today.”
I nodded. “Yes, coming here wasn’t a problem,” I said, reassuring him.
“Good.” Then, he tipped his head to the side, a faint smile making an appearance on his lips, chasing away the intense look in his eyes for a moment. “I received notification that your paints and supplies arrived today. I imagine this is going to be eating into your art time.”
“Ahh, I thought those deliveries might have been from you.” I ducked my head, feeling my face flush. “Thank you—and no, I really wasn’t busy when you texted. I was just putting everything away when you messaged me. Nothing interrupted. But, I really love everything. I already have an idea for a few pieces I want to do.”
The haggard lines on his face managed to soften. “I’m glad to hear that. I wanted to make sure you had the best supplies and had enough to do whatever your creativity ended up guiding you toward.” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncertain, which wasn’t something he displayed often. “It wasn’t too out of place, was it? I didn’t want it to be an awkward gift, but I also didn’t want to ruin the surprise by telling you what I was planning to do.”
I shook my head, finding his concern endearing. “No, no, it was perfectly fine. Just unexpected, though I’m assuming that isn’t the reason you brought me to your place, to discuss art supplies.”
He rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand, his expression once again shifting back to being serious. “No, it’s not. As I said, there’s something important I need to discuss with you. It’s just…not an easy conversation to have.”
His hesitancy reignited my insecurities, and my mind raced back to our last few interactions. Nothing had been too out of the ordinary, yet that didn’t mean anything, either. Clients were fickle, and I’d learned that it didn’t take much of anything to prompt them to terminate an arrangement, which admittedly was my greatest fear with Eric—which had nothing to do with the monetary aspect of the situation, but the dread of not being a part of his life anymore. Which said far too much about my emotional connection to him than I even wanted to admit.
“Are you ending our contract?” I asked, preparing myself for the worst.
I watched his face carefully and saw the surprise that lit his eyes at my question. “Nothing of the sort. I just wanted to have this discussion more privately, where we could be comfortable.”
My brows rose. “My apartment isn’t comfortable?”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Well, when it’s put that way. It isn’t that. I suppose since this, to a degree, has to do with business, it feels like it makes the most sense to be at my apartment. Have a seat,” he said, waving a hand toward the couch while he settled into the chair adjacent to the sofa.
When I was situated, he exhaled a deep breath and looked me directly in the eyes. “How well do you know James DuPont, Jasmine?”
His question jolted through me. It was the last thing I’d expected, and just hearing the other man’s name made something akin to disgust crawl across my skin. “This is about James?”
He nodded. “Yes,” was all he said, and waited for me to answer.
“I mean…” I scoffed a little. “He was a client. That’s all.”
Eric’s gaze never wavered from mine. “And how would you categorize the way that your time with him went?”
I didn’t like the direction of this conversation, or his bold questions. I found myself bristling because really, was who I might have entertained in my past really any of his business? Especially when I remembered the judgemental way Eric had looked at me that night at the venue, when James interrupted our argument.
My back straightened, even though I didn’t know what I was bracing myself for. “Why do you need to know, Eric?”
He stared at me, ambivalence etching his features before he spoke. “Because he came to my office today, making it very clear that he intends to extend an invitation to work with you again. I understand that he was a client of yours before, but I need you to understand that James is a cunning, disingenuous man whose intentions are, frankly, bullshit. He and I don’t see eye to eye and it leads to a lot of conflict that I don’t want you put in the middle of, or used as a pawn of some sort, because he likes having dick measuring contests.”
I paled. I know I did—my body went cold with shock. James had gone to Eric’s office? I dreaded what he may have told this man sitting in front of me. The kind of impression of me he would have tried to paint for Eric.
My belly churned, and I swallowed hard, my hatred for James growing. “He was one of my first clients, and I regret the fact that I ever took him on,” I said, as evenly as I could manage, the words seemingly tumbling out of me. “Dominique told me I should be cautious with him, but since I was early on in my work with her, I was trying to build a client base. James was someone that came along when I thought I really needed him.”
I gave a bitter laugh. “I should have listened to Dominique. James was normal enough, at first. Just what I would expect from a client, though we were never exclusive. He took me places. Bought me things. Lots of…sex. But then he started getting possessive. Keeping tabs on who my other clients were, following me when I wasn’t with him, popping up at places he wasn’t supposed to be, and generally exhibiting stalkerish type behavior. He even had inappropriate conversations with my other clients about what we did privately, like he was bragging.”
“Fucking asshole,” Eric said, the words escaping him on a furious growl.
Not wanting to see anything that might resemble pity in his eyes for my stupidity, I glanced down at my clasped hands in my lap and finished the story which, unfortunately, only got worse. “He was one of my highest paying clients, and I was new, and na?ve—or rather, dumb—and put up with his shit because I thought it was part of the gig. But at one party, he managed to get me alone in a bedroom, and things got…intense. I wasn’t there with him as his date, and I could tell he was pissed and jealous that I was with someone else. I told him to leave me the fuck alone, and instead of letting me go he threw me down on the bed and… assaulted me, all the while calling me his whore and telling me that he makes the rules, not me, and I’d do well to remember that. It…it was not a consensual situation.”
The look on Eric’s face, I could only describe it as unbridled rage. In fact, his whole body seemed to vibrate with the intensity of his outrage. He said nothing, but his hands balled into fists, clenching and unclenching against his thighs, and a part of me knew that if he was in the same room with James right now, the other man wouldn’t have stood a chance.
“Dominique was at that party and she saw me return with James…afterward,” I said, trying not to remember the awful details of that night. “She immediately knew something was wrong, and once she got the truth out of me, she didn’t hesitate to take me to get a restraining order against him. But the cops of course were no use. Because I’m a sex worker, an escort, a call girl, whatever they wanted to call me, anything ‘sexual’ that transpired between myself and James was under the parameters of my work. And, of course, what happened in that bedroom…it would be my word against his.”
“Jasmine—”
I shook my head and cut him off, because if I didn’t, I wasn’t sure I could finish the story. “I might not have gotten a restraining order against him, but Dominique threatened to ruin him if he so much as came near me again. She has a lot of shit on bad people, and whatever she said to James finally made him back off. I know he wasn’t happy with the ultimatum, so yeah, there’s still bad blood between us, as well. That night with you was the first time I’d actually talked to him since Dominique put him in his place.”
Eric frowned. “He probably thought it was fine to approach you, under the guise of speaking to me.”
I nodded, because that made sense. “When I saw him at the gallery again, I had hoped that it was just a fluke. A coincidence, but if he’s going to you and making suggestions about me…”
“I can guarantee it was no coincidence,” Eric said with conviction, his jaw clenched tight. “James is calculating and devious. He doesn’t do anything without a purpose. He has no ethics or morals and right now my concern is that he’s going to try to use you somehow to retaliate against me over the fact that I bought a lucrative piece of property right out from under him. So, after the conversation I had with him, I’m concerned. About you. I’d like for you to stay as far away from him as possible because I don’t fucking trust him, not after what you told me he did to you, and honestly, you’re not the only woman that he has a reputation like that with.”
He hesitated, and something softened in his gaze as it met mine. “I want to make sure you’re safe, Jasmine. I care about you, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to make sure he never hurt you again, all because he just wants to retaliate for a business deal he lost out on.”
Much to my chagrin, my throat grew tight, tears stung my eyes, and when one escaped, I swiped it away from the corner of my eye. I hated my emotional response, but I didn’t think telling any other client I’d ever had about James would have led to this type of care and protectiveness Eric had just displayed, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that. What had happened with James was collateral damage for an escort, something that came with the territory and most people just didn’t give a shit what happened, consensual or not.
“Hey,” Eric moved over to the couch I was on, sitting beside me. He reached out, gently cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing away the moisture along my lash line. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It isn’t that,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m used to a very particular response when it comes to shit like this. I’m used to people thinking that as an escort, it’s all par for the course and something that I deserved because of what I do. I appreciate so much that you’re not like that, Eric.”
He smiled, leaning in. It wasn’t a kiss, but a gentle nuzzle of his nose against mine. A soft, intimate caress. My heart fluttered in my chest as I looked into the clarity of his eyes.
“No matter what anyone else thinks, you’re worth caring about, Jasmine,” he said. “Remember that, always.”