Quinn’s not like other women. I’m intrigued and more than a little attracted to this mysterious woman with a hunting knife strapped to her thigh.
“I thought rich guys had someone drive them places,” she murmurs.
I clench the steering wheel of my Land Rover and glance over at her. “Would you like to see a bank statement to confirm my net worth?”
Her lips curve in the tiniest smile of amusement. “No, it was just an observation.”
“I use a driving service to and from my office and anything in the city that requires parking. But I like driving, too.”
“I would too, if I had a car like this.”
I take a deep breath as I slow to a stop in traffic. “What can I say to persuade you? Whomever this person you’re responsible for is, do you need to bring them along?”
She gives me a look of horror. “No. I just need some time to think about it.”
I want to offer her more money. The hotel is less than a half mile away, and I don’t want her getting out of this car without a deal in place. She could just leave the hotel before our meeting tomorrow, and I’d never see her again.
But, no. I shift in my seat, deciding I’m not offering more money. I’ve made her a great offer—one most women in her situation would jump at. If she doesn’t take it, fine by me.
We make the rest of the trip in silence. I pull up in front of the hotel and wave off the valet who approaches. Quinn reaches for her door handle.
“I’ll get that for you,” I offer.
She opens it. “I’ve got it. I’ll see you in the morning, Andrew.”
“In the lobby? You’ll be there?”
“Nine o’clock. I’ll be there.”
I pass her my business card, on which I’ve written my cell number.
She takes it and slides out of the car, meeting my eyes before closing the car door. I see curiosity swimming in those brownish gold eyes and a hint of a smile on her lips.
And then she’s gone, slipping through the front door of the hotel. She went in with her head down, and no one even looked at her.
I stare at the door for a few seconds before pulling away from the curb. The farther I get from the hotel, the more out of control I feel.
And there’s nothing I loathe like that feeling. Of all the things I’ve set my sights on, Quinn feels like the wild card. The one thing I may not be able to buy or charm. The challenge of it runs warm and fierce through my veins.
If she says no, it won’t be fine by me at all.
Quinn
“Fuck this shit.”
Those are the first words out of Bean’s mouth when I tell him about Andrew’s proposal.
“Look,” I say, “this is a chance—”
“A chance for you to become some rich guy’s slut,” he says bitterly.
I take a step closer to him. “Don’t you ever say that word to me again. Not ever, Bean. We’ve both done things we’re not proud of in the name of survival.”
“Not that, though.” There’s a pleading note in his tone now. “One night was bad enough, but six months?”
Bethy is curled up on the bed, crying softly. I go to her, sitting down and wrapping my arms around her lithe body.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I haven’t said yes or no yet. This is our chance to talk about it.”
“I say hell no,” Bean says. “This is some bullshit if you—”
I cut him off with a glance. “Give Bethy a chance to talk.”
She sniffles and takes a few seconds to compose herself. “I don’t want to eat food paid for by you having to sell yourself. I’d rather be hungry.”
Bean nods approvingly.
“It’s not like that, though, you guys. We didn’t even do anything last night. He only wants sex if I want to do it.”
“So do you want to? Do you like him?” Bethy asks.
“No.” Bean answers for me. “She got too much integrity to like that sort of man.”
He means well. I know he does. Bean has had our backs through times when it would have been much easier for him to dump us off and just take care of himself. And he tends to be a knee-jerk reaction kind of person.
“He seems pretty okay,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “And if I don’t like being there, I can just leave.”
Bean scoffs angrily. “Yeah, this dude just gonna let his investment walk out the door?”
“I’ll leave on my own terms if I have to.”
Bethy sighs and meets my eyes. “I’d just miss you so much.”
“Me too.” I run a hand over her dark hair. “But it’s only six months, and the money would last us until you’re eighteen. When I’m done, I’ll meet you guys in Mexico, and we can all start a new life.”
My sister nods slightly. “That’s where Bean and I would go from here?”
“Yes. That little town there he’s always talking about. The one by the beach. We can write letters. I want you guys to write me through Anna, and I’ll do the same.”
“Why?” Bethy’s voice quakes nervously.
“Just to be safe. I don’t want anyone able to track your location. This way, if someone finds me, they won’t be able to find you, too.”
“You’re doing this, aren’t you?” Bean asks, a vein popping out on his forehead. “This is just some bullshit to make us feel like we all decided.”
“What do you think I should do?” I shoot back at him. “Bethy needs a better life than this. We all do. I’m fucking tired of eating trash and being cold. Aren’t you?”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Yeah. But I’d rather us be cold and safe together.”
“I’ll be safe. I promise you. You know how good I am at taking care of myself, Bean. I just need to know you’ll take care of Bethy.”
He nods. “’Course I will. You two’s all I got in this world.”
The emotion in his voice tugs at my heart. “This is a job. An easy job I’m being paid extremely well for. It’s the break we’ve been waiting for.”
“Does Andrew know who you are?” Bethy asks me.
“No. And he won’t.”
“What if this guy wants you more than six months?” Bean asks.
“I’m done after six months,” I say emphatically. “That’ll be enough money to last us.”
Silence settles around the small, poshly decorated hotel suite. It’s broken by a deep, hacking cough from Bethy. I lock eyes with Bean as I rub a hand over her back.
“So we’ll do it?” I ask when she finally stops coughing.
Bean nods but looks crestfallen, his shoulders sagging.
“I trust you,” Bethy says. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”
“Good girl.” I bend down to kiss her forehead. “I love you more than anything.”
“I love you, too. Promise you’ll write to me all the time.”
“All the time. And you’ll write to me, too.”
She smiles. “I will.”
“Okay. So this will be our last day together for a while. I’m going to ask Andrew to send a doctor here to look at Bethy.”
Bean looks away, his jaw set in a tense line.
“And then,” I continue, “we can watch movies and order room service.”
Bethy grins and stretches out on the bed. “Sounds like fun. I miss movies so much.”
I stand and walk to the door, promising to return soon. After taking the elevator down to the lobby and getting a strange look when I ask the desk clerk to borrow a phone, I call Andrew. I’m standing right next to the front desk on a cordless phone, the clerk likely eavesdropping on my call. But better him than Bean.
“Hello?” he answers in a deep, crisp tone.
“Andrew, it’s Quinn.”
“Quinn.” His voice softens. “Hi.”
“Hi. I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
I smile at his response. A wealthy businessman is sort of at my beck and call. How is this my life?
“Can you send a doctor to the hote
l room?” I lower my voice and cup my hand around the bottom of the phone and my mouth. “Someone who will just treat someone without asking questions.”
“Is it you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s not me.” I’m practically whispering now. “Can you just do it? Please?”
“Of course. I’ll make a call right now.”
“Thank you.”
After a pause he says, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you then.”
I hang up and hand the phone back to the clerk. Relief floods me. Finally, a doctor will see Bethy.
On the elevator ride back up to the room, I briefly consider asking Andrew to help Bethy and Bean get to Mexico. But, no. I can’t risk telling him about them. The stakes are too high. I’ll have to rely on Bean’s experience with subverting laws and hiding.
But first, I’m going to spend the day at Bethy’s side. We’ll laugh and relax and overindulge the way sisters should. For the first time in more than four years, I can just be with her and not worry about anything.
The next morning, I hug my arms tightly around myself as I ride the elevator down to the hotel lobby. Nervousness hit as soon as I left the cocoon of warmth in the bed I’d been sharing with Bethy.
I’m still wearing the clothes Dawson brought for my night with Andrew. The only other clothes I have are the ones I was wearing when I arrived at the hotel that day to be made over. They’re too dirty and ragged to even consider wearing.
Not only am I self-conscious about wearing the same clothes for the third day in a row, I’m concerned that Andrew won’t like me with no makeup and my hair tied back in a simple ponytail. But there’s no makeup artist and hair stylist this time, just me.
When I step off the elevator and onto the fancy marble floor of the lobby, I see him. Andrew is standing with his arms crossed, looking at a painting on the lobby wall.
He turns as I approach. Again, he’s perfectly put together, wearing khakis and a blue dress shirt with a dark wool coat. I have to remind myself that I can hold my own with him. It doesn’t matter how rich he is or how broke I am.
“Quinn,” he says, his eyes lighting.
“Hi.”
“Did the doctor I sent take care of things?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The doctor was young and exceptionally kind. He looked Bethy over thoroughly and wrote her a prescription for an antibiotic. When my panic registered over being unsure I could fill a prescription without ID, he left and came back with the medicine.
I’d hated to ask Andrew for that favor, knowing he’d likely find out from the doctor that I was with a teenage girl and a man. But Bethy’s health was more important.
“How about breakfast?” Andrew asks. “There’s a place near here.”
I nod. We walk across the ornate lobby to the tall glass doors leading outside. A doorman nods and smiles at me as he pulls the handle open. It’s not the look I’m used to from hotel doormen. Usually, they either look right through me or sneer.
Andrew waits for me to walk through the open doorway and then he follows. He joins me on the sidewalk and points to the left.
“There’s a little café a few doors down,” he says, rubbing a hand over the dark stubble on his face. I can see there’s something on his mind.
He walks so fast I have to scramble to keep up with him. I push my hands into the pockets of the coat Dawson bought me. It’s so warm. I traded my coat for food in the tunnels last winter, and it’s really good to have one again.
The only table we can get at the café is right in front of the large window that looks out on the street, and Andrew can barely fit his big frame into the small chair.
“Are your knees touching the bottom of the table?” I ask, amused.
“I’m fine,” he says impatiently. “Quinn, what’s your answer?”
“My answer is probably. I need to go over a few things with you.”
His shoulders sink a bit with relaxation. “Of course.”
A waitress stops at our table. “Coffee?”
“Please,” Andrew says, turning over both empty mugs on our table. She pours steaming coffee into both of them. He takes a sip of his and then rests his forearms on the table, looking at me expectantly.
I clear my throat. “Can you pay me in cash or a blank check?”
“Sure.”
“Is there anything you’re not telling me? I don’t want surprises later.”
A line of confusion appears between his brows. “No. It’s just what I told you.”
“No sex with other men? Or women? I’m not doing that.”
He shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
“No whips or chains or tying me up,” I say. “That’s nonnegotiable.”
“I’m not into hurting women.”
“Good. I get to keep my knife. And I can leave at any time I want if it’s not working out.”
He nods. “Of course. But if we go to a social function, you’ll have to leave the knife at home.”
“What kinds of social functions?”
“Dinners, fundraisers, cocktail parties. I have to do a lot of that stuff.”
I hate the thought of going anywhere without my knife, but he’s right. I can’t take it to those kinds of things. Begrudgingly, I nod. But then a new worry sets in.
“Look, I have to be low profile,” I say. “I can’t be in photos as your date or anything like that.”
“Okay. There’s not a whole lot of that, anyway. I’m pretty low profile myself.”
Somehow I doubt this tall, polished bachelor is very good at not drawing attention.
“Hey,” Andrew says. “I know you need time to trust me. But Quinn, my home is highly secure. You’ll be safe.”
The waitress returns, and we both order. He gets oatmeal and an omelet. I get pancakes. As soon as we’re alone again, Andrew continues.
“Most of the security at my place is unseen. But trust me when I say it’s one of the safest places in this entire city.”
I don’t mention that it’s him I was concerned about being safe from. I know how to take care of myself on the streets.
“So . . . okay,” I say. “I guess it’s a yes.”
He smiles at me, his dark blue eyes warm. “I’m glad. I’ll be sending Dawson to pick you up here later this morning. He’ll take you shopping and get you settled.”
“Okay. Are you going to work?”
“Yes. I always work Saturdays.”
“So you’re only home on Sundays?”
“Pretty much, unless I’m traveling for work. I come home most weeknights, but I actually have a small bedroom off of my office at work so I can sleep there if I’m working on a project.”
This is sounding better and better. I get to live at his place and will only have to sleep with him sometimes when he’s there. I’ve decided I’m good with losing my virginity to him. I’m twenty-one. I probably would’ve given it up to some guy in high school if I hadn’t run.
The waitress delivers our plates, and we eat in silence. I finish first, still not used to getting food so easily. When Andrew is done, he gets some cash from his wallet and leaves it on the table.
“Ready?” he asks, standing.
I take a deep breath. “Ready.”
Quinn
I’m crying. I didn’t think it would be this hard to leave Bethy. She clung to me when I left the room five minutes ago. It was her brave smile when she finally let go that did me in.
Dawson ignores my tearstained face when he stands up from a bench in the hotel lobby.
“Quinn,” he says. “Good to see you again. You must’ve done well.”
I shrug.
“We have a lot to do today,” he says.
“It’s not your day off either, then?”
He laughs. “Sunday is my only day off.”
“Is Andrew demanding?”
He leads the way to a dark SUV parked in front of the hotel and opens the door for me. After he slides i
n next to me and the driver pulls away from the curb, he answers.
“That’s a tough one. I suppose he is. He wants what he wants when he wants it, and he wants it done just right. But he pays his people exceptionally well.”
Don’t I know it. I’m officially one of his people since I accepted the blank check that was delivered to the hotel’s front desk in an envelope addressed to me earlier. It was harder than I’d expected it would be to pass that check over to Bean.
I trust Bean, sure, but money has never been on the table. Survival is all we’ve ever considered. And now that I’ve given him ten thousand dollars, will he remain honorable? It would be so easy for him to disappear and leave my sister high and dry.
I’d whispered in her ear as we hugged that she should go to Anna if anything went wrong. I planned to check in with Anna every day to see if Bethy had contacted her.
“So,” Dawson says. “We’ll be getting you clothes, shoes, makeup and a mani/pedi today. I’m having your cell phone delivered to Andrew’s office, and he’ll bring it home for you.”
“I don’t need a cell phone.”
“Yes, you do.”
I shake my head. Guess I’ll just take it and never use it.
“Next week we’re going to the doctor and dentist.”
“The dentist?” I balk at that one. “And the doctor? I’m perfectly healthy.”
“You need to get on the birth control shot.”
I look at the rearview mirror to see if that statement gets me a glance from the driver. Nothing.
“Oh,” I say, my cheeks warming, “but . . .” I can’t complete the sentence; it’s too embarrassing. I hardly know the two men in earshot, and I don’t want to discuss sex semantics with them.
“What?” Dawson prods.
“You know, I just figured we could use . . . I mean, he could use . . .”
“Ah. No. He wants it this way. I have his clean bill of health from the doctor to put your mind at rest. He just had a blood test a couple weeks ago.”
Well, with twelve women before me . . . yeah, I could see how he’d need to be tested regularly.
“Why am I talking about this with you instead of him?” I ask, my cheeks still burning. “It’s kind of . . . intimate.”
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