She sits me at the kitchen table and leans against the side. “Why the f**k didn’t you tell me you knew him?”
Of course.
“He was an anon. I didn’t even know myself until I got there.”
“An ex-boyfriend? Fuck, Dayton. Why didn’t you get the hell out of there?
“Rule one hundred seventy thousand and ten of being a call girl: you don’t run out on a client once you’re introduced. Ever.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I had a job to do, Mon. He paid, I delivered.”
“No personal relationships!”
“After hire!” I argue. “I haven’t seen Aaron Stone for seven years and I never thought I would again.”
Monique’s eyes flit across my face, examining every feature, and she finally relaxes. “Do you still have feelings for him?”
“No.”
“Good. Because he’s your client again.”
I’m sorry. What?
“He called this morning. He’s traveling to his father’s other offices—Vegas, Sydney, Milan, London, and Paris. He needs someone to accompany him for the next six weeks, and you’re the lucky f**king girl.”
What?
“And you’re telling me this why?”
“Because you’re going.”
“But you just said—”
“Oh, believe me, Dayton. This has been f**king killing me all day, but Ross said I should just let you do the job. You have a past, but he thinks you’re too smart to go fall in love again, right?”
“Right.”
“And Mr. Stone is paying triple your damn rate to get you on his arm looking pretty. But you listen to me. You go out? He buys you dinner. You need a new dress? He buys that f**ker too. You need your hair done? A bikini wax? Your eyebrows shaped? He pays for every f**king thing you need. Even if it’s a candy bar.”
“I don’t depend on a guy to buy me stuff, Mon. I’m pretty damn sure I can afford to get my eyebrows shaped.”
She leans forward and slams her hands on the table, her light blue eyes piercing mine. “You need something, he buys it. Capiche?”
My jaw tightens. “Capiche.”
“Good. Now go home and pack. You’re leaving at seven a.m. for Las Vegas.”
“Seven a.m.?!”
“Seven a.m., and your share of the first week’s money will be in your account by the time you land.”
“Fine. What am I doing?”
She smirks. “You’re his girlfriend.”
Fantastic.
Chapter Four
If one week ago you’d told me I’d be staring at three large suitcases wondering what the hell I was doing getting ready to travel around the world with Aaron Stone, I wouldn’t have believed you. Hell, if you’d told me I’d see him again, I wouldn’t have believed you.
From the moment my seventeen-year old self touched back down in Seattle from Paris, he became little more than a memory. Every thump of my aching, broken heart reminded me of our promise to each other—one summer. Eventually, the pain receded, and six months later, my heart was beating to its own rhythm once more.
Now I’m making sure I have everything I need for six weeks away, and I’m wondering how I’ve come to belong to Aaron Stone once again.
I slide my feet into grey suede knee-high boots and tuck my cell into my pocket. My stomach is rolling with apprehension, and my heels click against the wooden floor of my living room. I keep alternating my glace from the window to the clock, even though there’s still five minutes until he arrives.
And I don’t even know what I’m more worried about—seeing him or spending six weeks with him and keeping to the rules of my world.
Three soft knocks at the door echo through my house, and I take a deep breath. I’d rather be doing anything but this. Anything at all. I’d even take Mr. Can’t Come right now. I flex my fingers around the door handle and pull it open before I have second thoughts about something I can’t change.
My eyes comb over his jeans and well-fitting blazer that’s open at his waist. A white shirt collar peeks above the V-neck of his sweater, and my gaze finally finds his face. There’s a five-o’clock shadow lining his strong jaw, and soft pink lips are teased into a tiny smile, one that’s reflected in the blue eyes staring down at me.
“Aaron,” I say as softly as he knocked.
“Dayton. Are you ready to go?”
I nod once and step to the side so he can pass me.
He takes my suitcases to the car while I grab my purse. I lock my front door, and when I turn, I notice that he’s holding the car door open for me.
“Enough suitcases?” he asks, a glint of amusement in his electric blue eyes.
“Oh, didn’t you know?” I pause before lowering myself into the car, looking at him pointedly. “Girlfriends of the rich don’t travel light.”
I tear my eyes from his as I sit. As he slides in beside me, he sighs, and I look out of the window. It wasn’t until I saw him standing in front of me that I realized how pissed I am about this. One coincidental night doesn’t equal a f**king worldwide rendezvous.
Buying Mia Lopez for one night doesn’t equal buying Dayton Black for six weeks.
Silence stretches between us, the tension building until it’s tight enough it’d snap if one of us sighed too hard.
“Day—”
“Don’t Day me. Just tell me why.”
He reaches forward and shuts the glass partition. “Dad asked me if you were coming—”
“Don’t try and put this on your dad.”
“—and I said no.” He gives me a look that makes me close my mouth. “The more I thought about it, the more I wanted you to come with me. After seeing you the other night, I wanted to catch up and get to know you again. This was the only way.”
“By f**king buying me?”
“Would you have come otherwise?”
I bite my tongue. We both know the answer is no.
“Exactly. I just wanted to spend some time with you again. Is that so bad?”
It is when you’re the one person who could shatter everything I’ve strived for seven years to build.
I don’t answer him, instead turning back to the window. His eyes are searing into the back of my head the whole way to the airport, tempting me to turn. When we reach the airport, I open my door and get out of the car before he can do it for me.
Wordlessly, I follow him to the small private jet owned by the company. His arm snakes around my waist and I glare at him.