14. THE ONE WHERE HE SELLS HIS SOUL
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE ONE WHERE HE SELLS HIS SOUL
Comment: He could do so much better. Her tattoos and piercings? YUCK!
Comment reply: Your mom should have swallowed you.
The tires of my brain screech, and I come to a smoking stop.
No sex.
I hadn’t even thought about that being an issue—hadn’t considered her agreeing to this would affect my sex life. Because if I’m not sleeping with Joey over the next forty-eight hours, I’m definitely not sleeping with anyone else.
I swallow my plea, the words, baby, no please don’t do this to me, dying in my throat.
I’ll get forty-eight more hours with Joey. Two days to get to know her better. And, oh yeah, of course… social media training… It’s more than mind blowing sex—which it seems I won’t be having anyway! It’s an opportunity to grow my brand.
“You think just because I had the best sex of my life last night, I can’t be professional? That I won’t be able to stop thinking about you naked whenever I look at you?” It was that good for her too… Right? Or does she have mind-blowing sex with strangers all the time?
I don’t realize I’m raking my eyes up her long legs until she huffs, stomping her foot. “See! It wouldn’t work!” She uncrosses her arms and plops down on the arm of her sapphire-blue velvet couch.
She’s giving me whiplash.
The T-shirt Joey accidentally stole from me, one I’ll never ask her to return, rises up until the only thing keeping me from getting a peek of the black underwear that spent the night on my hotel floor are her hands in her lap. I lick my lips and have to reboot my brain.
You’re proving her point, you idiot.
I take a step forward, putting us in an almost identical position as the one from last night—me with the tips of her knees between my legs and her looking up at me with her big green come-fuck-me eyes—the ones over three-million people have now seen. “Fine. No sex. No fake dating.”
Now she’s the one looking at me like that seems impossible. Almost like she’s not the one who, hypothetically, asked if we should pretend to be in a fake relationship to make money online…
I hold my hand out for her to shake.
Joey hesitates, glancing at it like she’ll lose whatever nerve she has left if she touches me.
Eventually, she takes my hand in hers, and we shake on our business venture…
or maybe we shake on the no sex or fake dating thing.
Either way, Joey’s coming with me to Portland, and I couldn’t be happier—two more days to figure out what it is about this woman that makes me want her so badly.
Yeah, she’s hot, the sex is fucking insane, and no matter where we touch, I get little electric pops that send shots of dopamine straight to the brain, but I know that’s not where it ends with her.
She pulls her hand away first, clearing her throat. “I’ll draft up a contract.”
“For the no sex thing? That’s a little much, don’t you think, Joey ba—Joey. Jo,” I correct, taking a step back. I’m too close to her. I can feel the heat of her skin, and it’s clouding my judgment… A lot.
She rolls her eyes and stands, grabbing the iPad off her coffee table. Beside it is a rolling tray and a decorated box. The clasp is closed, but I can put two-and-two together—my nose also works well enough, despite having broken it more than once.
Joey’s home is exactly what I would expect it to look like. A witchy cottage with a hodgepodge of different decor. Mismatched frames, colors, and patterns. It’s clean enough to eat off the floor, and it’s easy to tell she has a specific place for everything.
There are live plants all over. I recognize a few from Dad’s collection back home. A monstera, a few ogre ear succulents, and a ton of vines. I didn’t get his green thumb; I inherited whatever thumb my mom has—don’t look at a plant for too long or it’ll die.
Is that an animal skull? I squint.
Definitely some kind of deer. Or a goat?
Wait a second… How close had I gotten with this witch bit?
I pin Joey with a suspicious stare, only to find her innocently tapping at her iPad and not adding bat wings to a bubbling cauldron while she chants in Latin.
I continue to peruse her living room. The walls and ceiling are a dark shade of green, but there’s enough natural light coming from two large windows to make it less cave-like than I’m sure it feels at night.
Joey comes up beside me with the tablet and an Apple Pencil in hand. “Not for the sex thing. For the money thing.”
Duh, it’s a business transaction. I’m hiring Joey.
What a stupid idea—I don’t want to hire her, not really. I want to make her come all night again, seeing if six is the max or if she’s got more in her.
Regardless, I glance over the basic information at the top.
Josette Daniels to work for money percentage, blah-blah-blah. West Parker to pay… “Does it matter if my last name isn’t Parker?” I pause, peeking at her through the corner of my eye.
“Oh,” Joey says. “Um.” She glances at the screen where my name’s listed. “What is it?”
“Isakson,” I say, thinking—man, this girl really hasn’t Googled me, huh?
Maybe she’s crazier than I thought… Who actually considers doing this with someone they had a one-night stand with but haven’t performed a single Google search on?
I find myself worrying about the decisions she makes… Which, obviously means I need her close to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid like go off on tour with three men who are total strangers.
Shit… Did she meet Kell last night?
Joey adjusts the document. “Should we wait for Enzo to look it over?” she asks.
My brow cocks. “You're not like, having me sell my soul to the devil or anything, right?” I’m still on the fence about whether she’s an actual witch or not.
Her brow raises too, but so does the opposite corner of her mouth, spreading into a smile men would go to war for. “What if I am the devil?”
I don’t need any time to think—I answer with the pencil tip to the screen. “Worth it.” My legal signature is a quick W. Isakson where my last name just looks like Ikson.
Joey’s still laughing when I pass the iPad back, watching as she signs Jo Daniels. It’s as pretty as I thought her signature would be. All round and swirly but still serious.
She looks up at me and says, “I guess this means I’m all yours for forty-eight hours…”
The smile on her face tells me more than any look ever has: I’m fucked, boys! Go on without me!
The front door opens, and Frankie pops around the corner milliseconds later. “Ah-ha!” She points to the couch with the hand not clutching her coffee. She obviously thought she was going to catch us mid-fuck.
I stand behind the couch, leaning over the back, and pretend to inspect the cushion Frankie’s pointing to. “That stain’s not from me. I don’t miss.”
Enzo snorts, holding a carrier of drinks.
Frankie huffs a disappointed sigh. “I thought for sure y’all’d be bumping uglies already.” She grabs an iced coffee out of the carrier and hands it to Joey. “They were out of real honey, only had the fake syrup, so that’s a hazelnut latte with a triple shot and oat.”
Enzo passes me a hot black americano. It’s either this or a purple Red Bull. I never switch it up, but there’s no telling what Enzo’s drinking. He changes his order every time we get coffee, which results in him hating more than half of every drink he gets.
Joey blows Frankie a kiss and takes a swig. Her happy dance makes me repeat the coffee order until I know I’ll never forget.
“No sex,” I say and everyone turns to stare at me.
It’s like one of those moments during a 90’s sitcom where the funny guy says something stupid and everyone has to pause for the live audience’s laughter.
Except this isn’t a sitcom, no one’s laughing, and my brain malfunctioned, blurting my inside thoughts to the outside world where they don’t belong.
I attempt to save myself from my own stupidity. “No sex. She made me sign a No Sex Contract.”
“Oh, okay. That’s not what that was.” Joey holds her finger up like she’s about to scold the ever-loving hell out of me.
Do it, I think.
“We aren’t banging on the couch because you’re now paying me for a professional service, and I don’t fuck the people who pay me,” she corrects with an attitude, hip popping as her sass-meter skyrockets.
I love it. It makes me push harder. “So, what you’re saying is if you didn’t make me sign a No Sex Contract we would’ve gotten caught banging on the couch?”
“Sounds kinda like you made him sign a No Sex contract.” Frankie shrugs, her ponytail bouncing.
Enzo nods in silent agreement, and I'm feeling triumphant, my smile growing by the second until I can feel my dimples pull my cheeks taut. “Three against one. It’s a No—”
“If you say No Sex Contract one more time…” Joey dares tightly. “I made him sign a payment agreement. I make 25 percent of the profit from last night’s viral ticket sales for forty-eight hours of work.”
Enzo butts in when numbers get involved. “Hold on a second. Why would you sign something serious without me? Jo, I like you and all, but respectfully, I don’t trust a girl who—”
Frankie elbows him in the side hard enough to make him shut up. I’m glad it works because I don’t want to have to punch my best friend in the face.
Joey gets this look, and it makes me feel like I’m watching a spider eyeing a fly in its web, analyzing its next perfected move. “Trust a girl who what? Go ahead, say it.”
I take a step away from Enzo in case the spider strikes.
Enzo isn’t a dumb man. He stays quiet.
“You don’t trust a girl who jumps into bed with your horny best friend?” I should be offended, but I’m not. “Is that what you were going to say?” Joey isn’t afraid to bite back, always ready to go toe to toe in the face of a challenge.
“You have to understand the amount of people willing to take advantage of an overnight sensation…” Enzo begins.
“I know you don’t know this about me, so I won’t hold it against you, but I’ve got a BA in Mathematics and an MBA on top of that.
I was the Vice President of Social Media for a talent agency for four years.
Unfortunately, said company crumbled from within and I was too expensive to keep on the payroll.
” Looking at Joey, you’d never think she would hold a VP title—she doesn’t fit the mold with her tattoos, piercings, and spitfire attitude.
“I didn’t make West sign a contract to make money off him.
I made him sign a contract because he already made money off me and the brand I’ve built.
If he wants me to travel with you this weekend and design a social media business strategy, he’s going to pay me.
I haven’t busted my ass for ten years to work for a man for free. ”
Frankie snaps. “Yes, girl.”
“And the no sex thing, that’s because of this right here.” Joey points at Enzo. “I’ll be damned if people think I had to fuck a man to make money.” She shrugs, and I hide a shiver at her confidence. “I don’t need his money. I have my own, and if you don’t believe that, the door’s right behind you.”
I want to laugh, but somehow manage not to. She thinks I’d consider walking out?
Oh, Joey baby. I can’t go anywhere now. I’m too far gone.