by Nana Malone
I had far too much riding on my goals. It was time I got serious. I couldn't afford to get distracted. At least that’s what I told myself as I forced my legs to keep going.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman bundled against the chill of the morning pushing a baby pram while she jogged. Her chocolaty complexion reminded me of the one woman I shouldn’t want and couldn’t have. Instinctively I turned to get a better look.
That brief break in concentration tripped me up. Literally. I went arse over teakettle on the grassy trail, forcing Lex to jump out of the way.
Through labored breathing, my brother leaned down and offered a hand. "All right, Xan?"
I glared up at the hand offered and scowled. I wanted to take it, I really did, but I'd punished my body and the prone position was feeling far too comfortable at the moment. I didn’t stand. "Fine."
Lex dropped smoothly to his side in the dewy grass. "Glad to hear it. Now maybe you can tell me why we're running like we’re in Olympic training."
"What's the matter, my pace too fast for you?" I deflected immediately. Lex was too adept at seeing through me. We'd been through too much together.
"I kept up, didn't I?" With a sigh, Lex tried a different tactic. “What’s really going on with you?”
"Sorry. My mind's just on the purchase of Trident Media stock. I need everything to go right. It’s got me edgy."
Lex nodded and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I understand. Though, if it’s causing this level of stress, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this."
I watched my brother from the corner of my eye. There was no mistaking we were brothers from our tall, lean frames to our facial features, our coloring, and our silvery-gray eyes. Only Lex’s hair was inky and dark, while I still sported the dirty-blond hair I'd had as a child. But some days our personalities were so far on opposite ends of the scale I wondered how we could be brothers. "Didn't we already cover this territory?" For months, since I had told him the plan, Lex had tried to talk me out of it. "You don't think that fucking twat deserves to pay for what he did?"
“Of course I do. You know what happened on those stairs that night. But this plan of yours, it’s eating at you, Xan. Corroding you from the inside. You’ve been edgy and snappish, even to Abbie, who you normally think walks on water.”
I winced at the mention of her name. Abbie Nartey shouldn’t have meant anything to me, considering she was my brother’s girlfriend. But from the moment she’d become my student, I’d had a soft spot for her. Make that a very hard—never mind. She was the reason my brother smiled again. And she was my student. I’d put aside the feelings I had for her a long time ago. Mostly.
“I’m not exactly the warm, soothing, agony aunt. She knew that about me when she took the job.” And normally, she gave as good as she got. But Lex was right. Even I knew my mood swings were a special kind of toxic.
"This is what I want, Lex. I need to do this. Then I can walk away. Start fresh. I can't let him walk around like he owes us nothing. He could have stopped the abuse at any time, but he didn’t. He could have told someone, but he didn’t. And he could have admitted the truth, but he didn't." What I didn't say out loud to my brother was the secret shame I carried. He didn't have to hold me down for his father, but he did.
No. We’d continue with the plan. Alistair McMahon’s company, Trident Media Group had been financially backsliding for some time, and they’d been selling off chunks of stock to recoup their losses. Stock Lex and I had been purchasing through various companies. For now, we were holding on to it, but when all our ducks were lined up in a row, the two of us would have enough shares to dismantle Trident brick by bloody brick. And thanks to the information from J-girl’s laptop, I might have something big enough to destroy him for good. “I have the information we talked about.”
Lex shook his head. “Do I even want to know how you got it?”
“Nope.”
“Xan, this is a dangerous game.”
“Go on with the stock purchase. I’ve got Garett working on the data. If there’s anything on her computer we can use, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I’ll work on phase two.”
Phase two was more difficult. Alistair McMahon sat on the board of London’s Artistic Trust. I had to get myself on that board in order to topple all of my dominos for a more effective blow. But getting on the board was easier said than done.
My brother studied me as if he could divine the truth out of me, then eventually sighed. "Okay. Do you want to continue this grueling pace, or have you had enough?"
I pushed myself to a standing position. "We can take it easy heading back."
Lex smirked and bounced up next to me. I wanted to curse my brother's energy. My legs felt like lead weights. That’s what happens when you try to outrun demons. "Who said I needed to take it easy?"
“Of course, you don’t.”
I tried to stand, but I groaned instead. “On second thought, I still have some kinks to work out.”
“I’m proposing to Abbie." It was blurted out in a rush, and Lex flushed red as he said it.
For several long moments, I couldn't compute the pain that radiated through my chest or the words that caused the piercing headache in my skull. But slowly, the words started to piece together. Propose. Abbie.
That was it. In that moment, I knew what I had to do. I'd shut the door ages ago on anything ever happening with Abbie, but a piece of me hadn’t let her go. Though it was less about her and more about what she represented. But she was all Lex's now.
The guilt was quickly overshadowed by joy. I might be in excruciating, radiating pain, but Lex looked happy. The kind of happy that people could only experience when they had nothing holding them back.
I let that joy from my brother fill me and drown out the guilt and the remnants of pain. Pulling my brother to me, I hugged Lex hard. While I embraced him, I blinked away the stinging in my eyes. I could be happy for him. If anyone deserved that kind of happiness, it was my brother. And Abbie of course. Especially since Jean Claude had threatened to kill them both. I could have lost them. This, this was far better.
There was no point in feeling any loss for myself. It wasn’t my moment. "Mate, I'm so happy for you." Lex hugged me back, and we stood there in the middle of the park embracing each other. When we pulled back, we both ignored each other's misty gazes.
Fuck, why couldn’t I rid myself of the impending tears? "Good for you. Now you tell Nick that he may be your best mate and all, but I’m the one standing next to you on the big day."
Lex used his t-shirt to wipe his face. "Well, let's get her to say yes first, shall we?"
"Let's face it, she's nutters about you. She’ll say yes." And somehow, I'd have to figure out how to deal with that.
My brother licked his lips. “You’re okay, though?”
“I’m bloody brilliant. I’m about to get a sister.”
Chapter Two
Imani
I hustled along Savoy Way, clutching my bag to my side, desperately trying to fit my whole body under the minuscule umbrella.
That was what I got for forgetting mine at home and having to grab one from the corner shop. The number one rule of living in London was always bring a freaking umbrella.
Tilting my head back, I tried to determine how much farther I had to go to reach the Savoy. Of course, the moment I did, rain pelted my face with sharp, stinging pellets.
Up ahead I saw the marquee above the Savoy, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Once inside the foyer, I shook out my umbrella and tried to psych myself up for the appointment my director had set up for me.
Since I would be playing the lead in the play adaptation of the hottest book to hit Britain since White Teeth, he thought it would be a good idea for me to do some research. In this particular case, since my character was a prostitute, I was on my way to meet an escort.
When I was accepted into the acting program at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, I couldn’t believe it. Each year they only accept
ed twenty-six students. It was practically unheard of for them to take an American, but they had. And I’d made the painful choice to escape. But I’d left a piece of myself behind back in New York.
The hostess directed me to a secluded booth near the back where a pretty brunette sat sipping champagne. She stood smoothly as I approached. “You must be Imani. I’m Miriam.” She shook my hand and kissed both my cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I must tell you, most actors I encounter are pretenders, so full of themselves. It’s a pleasure to meet the real deal.”
I had no idea what I had been expecting, but this pretty, cultured girl wasn’t it. In the light, her skin was more café au lait. And her eyes were a lovely chocolaty brown. With her hair up in an artful messy side bun, she looked chic. Not exactly what I had expected from an escort. “It’s uh, nice to meet you, too.”
“You seem nervous.”
“Well, you could say that. On the one hand, I haven’t got a clue what to say to you. On the other, I have a million questions.”
Miriam smiled at me. “Okay, well, why don’t you tell me about your character?”
That was easy enough. Carmen Jacoby was one of the hottest plays around right now. When Shane McQueen wrote it, several theaters fought for the rights to the first production. RADA had won out for our senior showcase piece. If we did a good job, it was likely many of the actors would go on to perform it on the West End. It still hadn’t sunk in that I’d won the part.
“Carmen is a complicated girl. She’s strong and smart, and she sees her body as a means to an end, but not the end. She has other dreams. She’s a fighter and a bit of a hustler, so she takes advantage of the opportunities presented to her and goes from being a prostitute to a madame, to becoming one of the most successful traders in the city. But through it all, what she really wants is love from the one man she can’t have.”
Miriam sat back. “And a little slip like you won the role of Carmen.”
I jutted my chin out. “Winning had nothing to do with it. I busted my ass the hardest for that role.”
Miriam studied me. “I believe it. Why don't you start at the beginning with your most basic question?”
Right. Most basic question. I waited until our cocktail waitress had taken our drink orders and departed before I delved right in.
"Exactly how did you become a sex worker?” This was a conversation I never thought I'd be having in my lifetime.
The pretty brunette leaned forward and grinned. "What did you call me?"
I shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, a sex worker."
"Love, I'm an escort. A hooker, a slag, a slut, a tramp. A whore. I'm not picky about what you call me. At the end of the day, I have sex for money. A lot of money."
Okay then. Rivulets of sweat rolled down my back. It wasn't warm in the bar of the Savoy, but this was a conversation I was unprepared to have. I cleared my throat. "Okay then, when did you become an escort and why?"
Miriam waved her hand dismissively. "I don't have some sad story or anything like that. My old man didn’t abuse me. I didn't get into this because I'm hooked on drugs. The truth is I like sex."
I frowned. "You're clearly a beautiful girl. You could have had the sex without getting paid for it."
Miriam grinned. "Then, my love, I would be a very stupid girl. So many women are stuck in relationships they don't want with nothing to show for it at the end. At least I have money and the occasional orgasm."
The girl had a point. I leaned forward. Miriam Baxter fascinated me. We were the same age, similar upbringing, though I was raised in upstate New York and Miriam just outside of London. But upper middle-class families, good schools, nice homes. What fork-in-the-road decision had put us both on such divergent paths? "So, you do it for the money?" I asked.
Miriam nodded. "Hell, yes. And at this point, I've got my roster of regulars. I mostly do girlfriend experiences. You know, the bloke comes round and yaps about his day while I make him feel listened to and heard. Then I stroke his ego... amongst other things."
I bit back a snort of laughter.
Miriam grinned at me and continued. "The only difference between me and some punter's actual girlfriend is I get paid for my services without any of that messy relationship nonsense."
I sat back. "Do you worry about your safety at all?"
Miriam's dark, elegantly shaped brows drew down. "I'm an escort, remember? That means I'm high class. My clients are all vetted and by referral only. Lucy, my manager, would castrate any man who laid a hand on me. It's not like I'm on the street." I smiled. "I might be a slag, but I'm a very expensive one."
"So you've never been afraid."
Miriam shook her head. "I'm sure that won’t always be the case, but I refuse to live my life in fear. My decisions are my own. No one is forcing me. I look at these punters as regular guys who can’t get something they need. I provide it… for a fee."
This was a world I hadn't ever given much thought to until I saw my name next to Carmen’s on the cast list. "What if the client wants something really kinky?"
As I asked the question, I slid my gaze around the sleek and modern bar. We were seated off to the side, and mellow music played at a muted level. The Savoy bar was the definition of a swank London establishment, with images of pop stars immortalized in art on the walls. But while other patrons talked about their days or their relationships, we were discussing having sex for money.
"If he wants something kinky, then he calls someone else. I have a strict list of what I will and won't do that Lucy keeps track of. Occasionally a guy will want to try something, and if I'm into it I'll give it a go. But it’s cleared by Lucy first, and I know to expect it in our next session. But usually, my guys are straight vanilla sex. Missionary, doggy style, girl on top. If they are feeling adventurous, we try a toy or two, but that’s basically it."
"You can say no, then?"
"Yes, but I leave the nitty-gritty details to Lucy. Just because he’s paying for it doesn't mean he doesn't have to answer to someone. And in this case, it's Lucy.”
“She sounds formidable.”
Miriam nodded. “She takes care of her girls.”
I made a note to ask more about Lucy later. But first, one I was dying to know. "Are you ever attracted to any of the men?”
Miriam laughed. "Of course. I get to physically screen each of the clients myself."
Like shopping out of a magazine? "How does that work?"
"We meet in a place like this for a drink. Think of it like a job interview. He's seeing if I'm charming and smart and he likes my tits, and I'm seeing if he's balding or paunchy or I like his tips. After that initial meeting, he sets up a date."
"And if you’re not into it?"
"Then I tell Lucy not in a million fucking years, and she sends someone else."
"So you look at it like dating."
Miriam grinned. "But the pay is better."
I leaned forward. "Okay, tell me. Is there anyone really hot? You know, that you’d sleep with for free."
Miriam might be my research for my role, but I liked the bawdy, brash girl and the way she was direct and open.
"Is there ever. I won't name names, but I've had famous, gorgeous pop stars and footballers. One client I have now is so beautiful to look at he makes me tongue-tied sometimes."
"If he's so beautiful, then why do you think he comes to a sex—erm, escort?"
Miriam frowned and chewed her lip. I glanced around surreptitiously to see if someone might overhear our conversation. "Honestly, I have no idea. He oozes sex appeal. And he’s charming and smart. But the kicker is he doesn’t ever want to sleep with me. He wants to talk. And he pays double my whole-night rate for the privilege." She shrugged. “Who knows, maybe he can’t get it up.”
“So you're telling me he pays an escort to ‘talk’ and not in a fun, euphemistic, dirty-talk kind of way?"
Miriam let out a loud bark of laughter. “Honey, I wish he would talk dirty to me.” Several patrons in the bar turne
d to look. “And it's not for lack of me trying. In the two years I've been seeing him, we've never had sex."
“But you would if he wanted to?”
Miriam licked her bottom lip. "He's one client I'd sleep with free of charge."
I raised a brow. "That beautiful?"
"Yeah." She lowered her voice and leaned forward. "My limit list is strict. But I’d try just about anything he asked. He’s that sexy. But all he ever wants to do is talk. And he’s willing to pay two thousand quid a night for the privilege.”
My mouth hung open. Was she serious right now? A couple of nights with him and I could pay in cash for my sister’s Briarwood Academy tuition. Stop it. It’s not that desperate yet. "Do you think he’s able to have normal relationships?”
Miriam shrugged. “What’s normal? But it’s not like he’s odd or anything. On the contrary, I just don't think he has anyone to talk to. I'm a little protective of him. We've become friends of a sort."
I wondered if Miriam’s friend would ever take her out and introduce her to his other friends. We talked for another two hours about everything from the worst thing she’d ever been asked to do (a client wanted to give her a golden shower) to if anyone had ever asked her to leave her job for them (twice). She hadn’t taken them up on their offers.
My timer went off, and I sighed with disappointment. Already? How had it been two hours? "Time flies when you're having fun. Thank you so much for your time. Can I call you again if I have some more questions?" I reached into my purse for my wallet.
Miriam held out a hand. "Put your money away. I like you, so I'm not charging you. Call me anytime."
"I must admit, it’s a whole fascinating other world."
"Well if you're really curious, then you should take a job yourself. You know, really embody your character."
My jaw unhinged.
My new friend laughed. "You should see your face. It's brilliant. But I’m serious.”
"I couldn't."
Miriam shrugged. "Why not? It’s just sex. And a pretty girl like you, you’re already having it anyway, so why not get paid?”
