How We End (Silver Line #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

WYATT

I’ve hated sunsets since I was sixteen. There was nothing magical about them.

The world didn’t soften, and promises of love weren’t honored because the sky turned pink.

No one rode off to their happy ending. The only thing that came after a sunset was the harsh reality of the sunrise.

And maybe that was why I loved Las Vegas so much.

From the Strip, the neon outshone any sunset.

It glowed with all the possibilities that Las Vegas held.

“When will you be back in LA?”

Richard pulled my attention from the view. From the penthouse of the Starlight Sands, you could see the entire Strip. It was my favorite view. “I don’t know. Why?”

“Because.” Richard took my chin, tipping my face to the light. He was searching for all the imperfections he could fix. “Your age is starting to show. You could use a little filler here and here.” He ran a fingertip from the corner of my eye to my jaw.

Dr. Richard Valentine was a high-profile plastic surgeon from LA.

His rich and famous clientele kept him too busy for a relationship.

At least that was what he claimed on his profile.

There were plenty of escorts in LA, but he didn’t fuck where he slept.

And I had a reputation for keeping my life very private.

Which meant his little secret wouldn’t be splashed all over the gossip page of the Los Angeles Times.

“My age?” So was his. Richard was in his mid-sixties, an average-looking man who had a little too much work done to his face. His skin had lost its firmness, his hair was thinning, and a little filler wouldn’t fix his short performance problem.

“Yes, your age. What are you now, thirty-six? In another year, you’re going to need a breast lift,” he said, cupping my left breast, ducking slightly to examine them. “They’re losing their firmness.”

“I’m thirty-five. And my tits are fine.” I stepped away, pulling my robe closed.

“I don’t pay for fine. I pay for perfection.”

Nothing that came out of Richard’s mouth surprised me anymore.

I would be concerned if he didn’t have something to complain about.

I knew when I took him on as a client how particular he was.

When I was twenty, he could find nothing wrong with me or my tits.

I opened the bedroom door, ready for this session to be over.

Richard was exhausting, and not because of his sexual prowess.

“Well, Mr. Valentine, as always, my time with you was…” I looked him up and down. “Short.”

Richard scoffed, tugging on the sleeves of his designer shirt.

“I’m not here to please you. I’m here to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman.

” He stopped in the doorway, looking me up and down.

“I can have average for free. If you can’t live up to my expectations, I’ll have to find my entertainment elsewhere. ”

He was right about one thing: I was getting too old for men like him. “I don’t care.” I smiled before calling to my bodyguard, “Jackson, please show Mr. Valentine to the door.”

“You’ll care when you don’t have my monthly ten grand coming in.” Richard stepped through the door, taking the suit coat Jackson held out for him. “I’ve recommended you to a friend. Gabriel. Show him a good time.”

“My tits aren’t too saggy for him?”

“He has much lower standards.” Richard checked for his wallet. “Call my office.”

“Mr. Valentine.” Jackson motioned for the door. “Cassidy, Margo is waiting for you.”

I walked into the large living area of the penthouse suite to find Maverick’s PA sitting cross-legged on the couch, her laptop in her lap.

“God, what a fucking asshole. No wonder he has, like, ten ex-wives,” Margo said, not looking up.

“It’s only three. How long have you been here?” Margo was my scheduler, part-time accountant, PA, and condom orderer. She, along with Jackson, was an employee of Star Light Inc. and Maverick Sands.

“Long enough to hear Dickie is a one-minute lover. Is he always that loud?”

“Louder,” Jackson said, coming back into the suite. “Do you need anything else, Cass?” he asked, gathering up his things.

“No, last client of the night. Thanks, Jackson.” I waited for him to close the door. “Why are you here so early?” Ten o’clock was prime time for Maverick to need a babysitter.

“Maverick had a thing at the Golden Serpent.” Margo rolled her eyes, her face lit by the screen of her laptop. “He should have named that place the viper’s den.” She glanced up. “He wants me to go over the next couple of weeks with you.”

Only Maverick would have his PA schedule time with this whore. “You want a drink?”

“No, still on the clock. What was Dickie’s issue this week?”

Some men had normal kinks like being pegged or edged, but Richard liked degradation, not as a kink, as a personality trait.

“That if women want equal treatment, they should do equal work.” I made a tequila soda before flopping down on the couch.

Last month he was going to solve the abortion issue by putting girls on birth control when they hit puberty.

“Does that include the bedroom?”

I laid my head on the back of the couch.

The crystals in the ceiling reflected the light back like stars.

“I wish. He could do a little more work there. But that was better than listening to his almost two-hour tangent about his ex-wives and how they never worked. Which then rolled into my career choice and how I took the easy way out. I mean, how hard could it be to have sex for a living?”

“What did you say?” Margo was half listening as her fingers flew over the screen on her phone.

“Nothing. He doesn’t pay me to think or have an opinion.

” Those were his words. The actual sex was the easiest part of my job.

It was all the shit before. The foreplay of pretending I gave a shit about what men like Richard Valentine were talking about.

Or that I was turned on by a sixty-five-year-old man who took the easy way out and had surgery instead of exercising.

“The confidence with which some men speak is something that should be studied.” Margo finished typing on her phone before tossing it down.

“As much as I would love to hear all Dickie’s theories on women, I have my own dick I need to talk to you about.

Maverick has a few events he wants you at.

There’s this hockey thing next week, and then the annual Maverick Sands Halloween party. He wants his ‘best girls’ at both.”

“I’m not one of his girls,” I said, watching my distorted reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows of the suite.

Richard’s words were gaining more strength every minute I sat with them.

In the blurry reflection, I couldn’t see the imperfections.

But I knew they were there. I saw them every morning and every night.

The fine lines around my eyes and mouth.

The fact that I had to work so much harder now to keep up my appearance.

I also saw it in the girls who were waiting to take my place with men like Richard and Maverick.

“What if he’s right?” I was always the prettiest whore in the room. I didn’t know how to handle being the oldest.

“He is. You are one of his best girls.” Margo glanced up at me.

“Not Maverick. Richard. What if I am too old?”

“For sex? I don’t think that’s possible. And Dickie will be singing a different song next month when he has blue balls. Now, back to your schedule. It looks like you’re free on that Friday the Coyotes are going to be here. And what about Thanksgiving? Maverick will want his time.”

“He needs sex on Thanksgiving? Maybe he should spend it with his wife. Remind him I don’t work holidays.

” I laid my head back on the couch, not really listening to Margo rattle off the dates and what Maverick wanted.

As much as I hated what Richard said, he was right.

My age was catching up with me. I was never supposed to be still doing this at thirty-five.

When I was nineteen, I told myself I would do it until I had enough money saved to go back home.

Then at twenty-three, I was going to quit at twenty-five.

Then twenty-five came and went. Then I told myself thirty.

Now thirty had come and gone, and I still had no idea what the future would hold.

And at thirty-five, I should’ve had a plan.

“How old is too old?” I asked.

“For dinner?” Margo frowned at me.

“No, for this. I’m going to be thirty-six next year, and after that comes…

” I didn’t want to think about what came after thirty-seven and all the other numbers.

Hell, I didn’t want to turn forty. I wasn’t even sure where all the days and years went.

How I had let so much of my life slip away.

“How long before the rest of my clients notice I’m not twenty anymore? ”

“Since most of them are in their sixties and probably have cataracts, never.”

Typical response for Margo. “Forget it.”

“Do you want to quit?”

I brushed the wrinkles out of the designer silk robe I had on.

It cost me two thousand dollars. The dress I had entertained Richard in, seven thousand.

The shoes, another three. The tequila I drank, three hundred a bottle.

Not to mention the thousands of dollars of skincare and hair products I had.

All of it bought and paid for with sex. I didn’t want to go back to a normal-priced life with a nine-to-five and shitty apartment.

“Not unless someone is going to pay me four thousand an hour to answer phones.”

“They might, but you might have to be naked.” Margo’s fingers moved quickly over her laptop.

“It looks like Noble’s has a seven fifteen on Friday.

An hour for dinner, that puts you and Maverick back here at about eight thirty with traffic.

His thing with the teams starts at… eight. So he can make his grand entrance.”

“Yes to dinner, no to the hockey team. I don’t do athletes.

” I tried once. I thought the sex would be better.

Athletes were generally in much better shape than my normal clientele.

But they also had egos and thought I should be thankful they chose me.

Like Richard. Maybe it wasn’t just athletes.

Maybe I should add plastic surgeons to my do-not-book list.

“No, but you do rich white men, and there will be plenty of them there. The owners, the GM, the investors, and all their rich buddies will be there. You could use some younger clients. You’re going to run out of old white men before you’re thirty-seven.

” Margo didn’t look up from her phone as she quickly texted something. “You ever thought about adding women?”

It took me fifteen years to build up this client list. I trusted all of them. I knew their likes and dislikes and knew what to expect. They were safe. “Younger clients bring problems. And no women. I can’t even get myself off. I don’t want to worry about another woman.”

“What?” Margo squeaked out. “You don’t get off, not even with Maverick?”

“Between you and me, no. It’s been years since I finished with a man.

” When I first met Margo, I thought she, too, was sleeping with Maverick.

And it was her, not Maverick’s wife that would be my competition.

But Maverick had a type. Tall and blonde.

Margo wasn’t short, but she wasn’t blonde, nor would she get on her knees in the back seat of a limo to suck him off.

“Shit. And I thought I didn’t have job satisfaction.

All that work for nothing,” Margo teased.

Her phone buzzed. “Speaking of needy dicks, it’s Maverick.

” She stood. “Don’t forget about the Halloween party.

It’s James Bond themed. Maverick ordered you a dress,” she said, answering her phone.

“Yes, Mr. Sands. I’m coming.” Or not, she mouthed as she left.

I drained the tequila and sat in the quiet room, alone. That was a side effect of this job.

Loneliness.