Hard Work

by Micah Persell

  Something unacceptable, surely, given his current mindfuckery.

  He pulled his clothes on as quickly as possible, then walked over to the table.

  Holding his breath, he fanned out the bills with the tips of his fingers.

  His breath rushed out of him. His glance jetted over to the clock.

  Two hours and fifteen minutes since I arrived.

  She’d paid him much, much more than his hourly rate, which he had told to the woman who’d arranged this appointment. In fact, she’d paid him more than his nightly rate, which—he grimaced now—he himself had told her at The Bar.

  Kip pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed silently. Then he rearranged the bills into a nice, neat stack.

  He straightened his belt as he turned to look at her one more time before he left.

  Her lips, swollen from his kisses, were parted. Her lush lashes curved against her cheeks. Her neck was red from whisker burn.

  Of its own volition, his hand moved. Stroked her cheek. Tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Pulled the comforter up and over her shoulder. “Good night, honey,” he whispered so softly she wouldn’t be able to hear him.

  Then he turned and walked to the door.

  When he clicked the light switch off, the halo of light surrounding the stack of bills on the table disappeared.

  But the bills remained.

  Chapter Seven

  Victoria sighed and snuggled into the pillow beneath her cheek. Warmth and satisfaction filled her to bursting, and, rolling to her back, she stretched, arching her body and pushing against the headboard.

  The apex of her thighs twinged uncomfortably.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and as she stared up at the ceiling, she cocked her head to the side. Not the ceiling of my bedroom.

  That fully awoke her in the span of two heartbeats.

  She blinked several times as last night rushed back.

  I had sex last night.

  A burble rose through her chest and up into her mouth until it exploded from her lips in the form of a giggle.

  “I had sex last night!”

  With another giggle, she snatched the pillow from the other side of the bed and buried her face in it.

  Kip’s scent filled her senses. She pulled in a deep breath of it, and, holding it, closed her eyes.

  He had been incredible. Worth every penny and then some.

  God, how had she lived without sex for so long?

  Her smile crashed. She pulled the pillow from her face.

  How am I going to live without it again?

  She hugged the pillow to her chest, and it was so like the brief moment she’d held Kip the same way last night that her bottom lip trembled.

  She couldn’t. Couldn’t do celibacy again.

  Before, after Jeremy’s death, her grief and an overwhelming sense of guilt had distracted her. With her heart so broken, there had been no way she’d wanted to have sex with anyone ever again. But, as the years had gone by and that grief had ebbed—though not vanished—her needs had become insistent, and now that she’d had the best sex of her life and knew for certain what she was missing . . .

  She sat up and shoved a hand through her knotted hair. “Okay, so you don’t have to be celibate again.”

  She straightened, the simple, spoken words taking root and lifting her mood immediately. Hadn’t she just had sex with a prostitute? Hadn’t it met her every need while enabling her desire to avoid a relationship?

  She would just do it again! Whenever she needed to.

  “Sleeping with strangers.”

  As soon as she said it out loud, her fingers tightened in the pillow. “Sleeping with strangers,” she said again. “No big deal.”

  Her gut knotted and her heart instantly plummeted. She wouldn’t be able to do it.

  Yes, she didn’t want a relationship, but . . . strangers? What if they were bad at it? What if one of these complete strangers tried to hurt her? What if . . .

  They are nothing like Kip.

  “Oh, dear.” She nibbled her bottom lip. The truth was, he had been perfect. Every touch, every word—he had delivered the kind of night a woman rarely was lucky enough to experience.

  And he had left right after.

  Perfection.

  She couldn’t take the risk of disappointment—or worse—with someone else. She was far too busy.

  So, hire Kip.

  She tilted her head to the side. Slowly, a smile spread her lips. That was it. The ideal plan.

  She would contact Kip, offer him an exclusive employment opportunity, and never have to worry about this part of her life again.

  She could focus on more important things without distraction.

  Wait, exclusive employment?

  Her smile dimmed. Yes, why the exclusivity? Her brow furrowed as she tried to get to the root of why, in the deepest recesses of herself, she knew that part of it was non-negotiable.

  It couldn’t be because she wanted him to herself. That would be unacceptable. An unforgiveable slight against Jeremy. No, it had to be someth—

  Ah! Safety. Obviously.

  Every muscle in Victoria’s body unclenched itself. Yes, she would want to be able to forego condoms, and the only way to ensure they could do so safely was if they were sleeping only with each other.

  She nodded. This was brilliant. The best idea she’d had outside of work in years.

  Grinning, she reached for her phone on the bedside table and froze.

  She narrowed her eyes. Surely, what she was seeing was a figment of her imagination, but the narrowed gaze did not change anything.

  Kip’s money was still on the table.

  “What in the—?” She reached for it but drew back before she could touch it. Why on earth would he have left it?

  He forgot. It was logical and the most probable reason, so . . . Her frown would not relent.

  Well, whatever the reason, she could fix this slight snafu. She’d be seeing him again, thanks to her business offer, and she could give it to him then.

  She grabbed her phone, skirting the cash as though it were poisonous, and opened her messaging app. Cassidy was at the top, like always.

  “Need Kip’s number.”

  After she clicked send, she nibbled her bottom lip. It could be hours until she heard back. Cassidy had a sporadic sleeping schedule at best, and—

  Her phone buzzed in her hand, and Victoria nearly dropped it.

  “Who the fuck is Kip?”

  Seriously?

  “The gigolo!”

  Her phone immediately rang, and Victoria groaned. She did not want to talk about this. But Cassidy would dog her until she answered.

  “Good morning, Cassidy.”

  “Details. Now. Especially since you want to contact him again.”

  “You want details about my illicit night with a male prostitute?”

  “Hells yeah, I do.”

  “I’m your sister!”

  “In-law. There’s a difference, you know.”

  “Yeah, a difference that makes this conversation worse not better.”

  There was a pause. “Why would that make it worse?”

  Victoria flopped back on her pillow. “Cassidy, I just want the man’s number.”

  “So, you’re saying it was good.”

  Before she could stop it, the most girlish, giggle-sounding noise escaped Victoria’s lips.

  “Oh, my God!” Cassidy practically shouted into the phone. “It was!”

  Victoria jerked the phone away, winced, and put the phone back toward her ear with an inch’s space this time. “Okay, deduce from my side of the conversation what you will, but I’m not giving you details.”

  “But—”

  “No way!”

  “You are just a ruiner of all good things.”

  “Thank you. Now, Kip’s number.”

  “Fine. I’ll text it to you. But when I sleep with a prostitute, I’m telling you nothing. No, don’t even bother begging.”

>   Astonishing, the rush of relief she felt. “Thanks, Cassidy.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I love you, too.” There was indiscriminate grumbling from the other side of the line, and then the call ended.

  Seconds later, her phone buzzed with a text. They were the longest seconds Victoria had suffered in her life. When she saw simply ten digits, her heart flipped over.

  Straightening in the bed, Victoria attempted to smooth her hair. Smoothing my hair down? Really? She glared down at herself. Idiot.

  He picked up on the second ring. “Hello, this is Kip.”

  “Kip!” Victoria cleared her throat and drummed her fingers against the pillow in her lap. “This is—”

  “Victoria?” His voice sounded odd as it said her name.

  “Er,” she licked her lips, “yeah. It’s me.” How would he know my voice after one night? It had to be something he’d trained himself to do for his profession.

  An awkward silence filled the line, and Victoria . . . this had been a brilliant plan, right?

  “I’m—” There was another brief pause, and when he spoke again, he was as smooth as he had been in her bed last night. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

  His voice shot straight through her and all the way down to her sex. “That’s . . . good.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Okay, get it together. She had a business proposition. One she would make sure he was happy to hear about. Start with that. “The money was still on the table this morning.”

  Shit! That wasn’t the business proposition at all!

  Silence reigned once again. She winced. Maybe she should just hang up the phone? Forget she’d ever—

  Luckily, Kip rescued them both. “Oh, was it?”

  Victoria raised her eyebrows. “Yes.”

  He cleared his throat. “I can’t believe I forgot it.”

  Yeah, me either. She swallowed. Just go with it. “Well, that’s an easy fix, don’t worry.”

  “Oh, I trust you.” His words were quick and careless.

  This time, she paused and generated the awkward silence. “Do you.”

  He sighed. “Maybe we should hang up and start this conversation again.”

  Her laugh startled her. Pull the thought right from my head, why don’t you. “How about we just pretend we did and go from here.”

  A husky chuckle. “I can accept that plan.”

  “Okay, well.” She shifted in bed. “Since you’re in the accepting vein of thought, I actually have a business proposition for you.”

  “A business proposition.” His tone could only be described as careful.

  “Well, yes. It’s one I think you’ll like.”

  “I’m listening.” His voice was back to normal.

  “I’d like to hire you.”

  “For tonight?”

  “No.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “I mean, maybe tonight, but . . . ” Oh, for fuck’s sake, just say it! “I’d like to acquire your services for a prolonged period of time. Exclusively.”

  There was a lengthy pause. “Oh.”

  This was not going at all the way she had thought it would. Mention the money. “I’ll pay you $20,000 for the rest of the month.” There were eighteen days left until the thirty-first. “That’s a few thousand more than your nightly rate.” And if, after eighteen days, she needed more, she would simply buy more.

  His puff of air was audible over the phone.

  She relaxed. Now he would jump at the deal. Why hadn’t she led with that? Her business was deals, and here she was messing one up.

  “Victoria, thank you for the offer.”

  Her lips parted. She heard a definite but in his voice. “Don’t answer now!” She’d practically yelled the words at him. She covered her lips with her fingers and pulled a long breath through her nose. Try again. At normal person volume. “How about you just think about it, okay?” Her fingers started hurting, and she looked down only to discover they were knotted in the pillow so tightly they were bloodless. “You have to get your money from last night at some point, so whenever you’re ready, just let me know. We can talk details at that point if you want.”

  There was a heavy sigh. “I’ll think about it. Of course, I’ll think about it.”

  His obvious reluctance stung. “Well,” she said shortly, “thank you for last night.”

  “Oh, Victoria—”

  She hung up.

  And immediately regretted it. Right, because throwing a tantrum on the man will certainly convince him to see things your way. “Ugh!” She flopped back on the bed and tossed her phone at the chair a few feet away, not even looking to see if it made it or reached a shattering death on the floor.

  If her phone were broken, she wouldn’t be able to call Kip again and torment him with lucrative offers to sleep with her.

  If she were lucky, she’d never hear from him again. Then she could forget this mortifying moment and focus instead on the earth-shattering sex of the night before. An experience that she would now have to seek from strangers. Because Kip had as good as said no, and she couldn’t go without anymore.

  This day was off to a great start.

  With a groan, she rolled from bed and began gathering her belongings. She had a meeting this morning. The most important meeting of her career, and she wanted to get ready for it at home where she was surrounded by her things instead of the scent of her and Kip’s sexual escapades and the indentation of their heads in the pillows.

  She was having her first face-to-face with Mr. Alan Davis from The Ricchezza in two hours. She needed her head in the game.

  She was a whirlwind as she pulled on her clothes and tossed her phone into her purse. But she stilled suddenly as she turned toward the bedside table. She gave the stack of bills the side eye.

  Finally, with a huff, she stormed over, grabbed the meticulously straight pile of bills, and slipped it into the cell phone holder of her laptop bag. Tugging the strap over her shoulder, she straightened her spine and walked toward the door.

  It was harder than she’d imagined to close it behind her without one final look at the bed. But she did it, and as soon as the door nestled into its frame, Victoria snapped free from her stupor as though released from bonds.

  An hour and a half later, she was walking into the office, perfectly coifed and ready to review her marketing plan before presenting it in detail to Mr. Davis.

  Victoria’s personal secretary, Daniel, rushed over as soon as he saw her. She could tell by the panic in his eyes that something was up. He fell into step beside her and ducked his head to speak to her without anyone overhearing. “Ms. Hastings, Mr. Davis is already here.”

  Her steps faltered, but she kept on through sheer force of will. What? She straightened her laptop bag. “Early. I like that.” Shit!

  “He and his lawyers are waiting in the conference room.” Daniel paused at her office door while she rushed over to her desk with as much poise as possible. “Mr. Kincaid is in there with him now.”

  Victoria gripped the back of her leather chair and closed her eyes. She hadn’t told Mr. Kincaid about the potential deal with The Ricchezza yet, because—

  Well, selfishly, she wanted to tell her boss about the deal when she’d secured it. And then accept his congratulations and the corresponding promotion on the spot. Now he was going to want a say in things. Would want to be a part of the process.

  Double shit.

  “Excellent.” She turned to Daniel. “Can you contact our delivery service and let them know we’ll need the coffee and pastries immediately?”

  He jerked a nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” She straightened her jacket and breezed by Daniel, who was already rushing back to his desk and reaching for the phone.

  No time to review, but, then again, she didn’t need it. She knew this marketing plan backward and forward. Mr. Kincaid was a slight hitch in the plan, but the man hadn’t become president of an advertising firm without knowing his stuff. Maybe she could benefit from some guidance.


  Maybe.

  Okay, she would abhor his guidance, but she could play nice in pursuit of the bigger goal.

  She paused for only a moment outside the conference room to smooth a hand over her hair and ensure it was in place. She twisted the knob and turned the door inward.

  Male voices abruptly ceased.

  “Ah, here she is now,” Mr. Kincaid said.

  Victoria smiled her best smile and glided into the conference room. “Sorry for the delay, gentlemen. I hope you haven’t been kept waiting too long.”

  Mr. Kincaid was seated at the head of the conference table—her spot by rights in this current situation. She took the seat opposite Mr. Davis and his—dear God—entourage of five lawyers. She stretched her hand across the table toward Mr. Davis. “A pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Davis.”

  His fingers clasped hers weakly. “Thank you for meeting us first thing in the morning. I know you’re a busy woman.”

  She canted her head. “Never too busy for you.” He released her hand, and she pressed both palms to the table. “Well, why don’t I share my ideas with you? I have some great—”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Mr. Davis smiled. “That wasn’t the purpose of this meeting.”

  Victoria felt her brow furrowing and forcibly smoothed it out. She cast a nervous glance at Mr. Kincaid, who was making no effort to keep from looking bewildered. “It isn’t?” She breathed an awkward laugh. “I confess, I thought that’s why we were meeting.”

  Mr. Davis leaned forward. “We’ll get to the marketing ideas at some point in the future. After I’ve decided upon an agent.”

  She smiled. “Of course.” What?

  One of Mr. Davis’s lawyers cleared his throat. “This meeting is more of a meet and greet, Ms. Hastings,” he said. “Mr. Davis has a very specific concern as we enter into this process, and he wanted to both meet you and make his concern known.”

  Her confusion cleared; her wariness, however, increased. “Well, I’m very glad we’re meeting then. What is your concern? I’d love to put it to rest.”

  Mr. Davis tucked his chin down, creating a ripple of additional chins, to look at her from beneath bushy eyebrows. “Our previous marketing agent,” he made an odd noise, “became an issue.”