Hard Work

by Micah Persell

  “See you soon, honey.” The endearment lacked the usual warmth.

  “See you—” The phone call cut out. “Soon.”

  Victoria set the phone down gently on her desk, then scooted it away with a nudge of her fingertips. She was going to cry. She could feel it in that tight, suffocating sting behind her eyes and nose.

  Her phone rang, and she hated herself for the way she snatched it up. Her shoulders fell when she saw Cassidy’s name on the caller ID. “Hello?” She sniffed.

  Instead of the psychotic stream of words that usually met her ear when she answered a call from Cassidy, there was nothing.

  Victoria pulled the phone from her ear and saw that the call was active. She pressed the phone to her ear again. “Cassidy?”

  “Okay, what’s wrong?”

  Victoria sighed. Nothing. The word never made it out of her mouth.

  “Okay.” There was a clatter from Cassidy’s side, almost as though she’d thrown down a game controller. “I’m picking you up for lunch right now.”

  Victoria exhaled. “It’s barely ten o’clock.”

  “Brunch then.”

  Victoria leaned forward, propped her elbow on her desk, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, please.”

  “On my way.”

  The feeling that she was going to cry didn’t abate for the twenty minutes it took her sister-in-law to get to the office. And it didn’t go away as they drove to Sally’s, sat in their favorite booth, and ordered enough calories to fill a week.

  As she sipped her sweet tea, she eyed the stack of napkins. She could have one in her hand at a moment’s notice if any of the tears she was fighting broke free.

  Cassidy sat back in the booth. “What’d the gigolo do?”

  Victoria’s head snapped up. “Do?”

  “Do I need to kill him?”

  Victoria, against all odds, chuckled. But then she looked closer at her and saw that Cassidy was, for all appearances, serious. “No killing hookers!”

  Cassidy narrowed her eyes. “You’re no fun.”

  “He didn’t do anything. I promise.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s my fault actually.”

  “The fuck did you just say?” Cassidy leaned forward. “Did he tell you that? I hate when men say that!”

  Victoria’s lips twitched. “Hear it a lot, do you?”

  “As a matter of fact, no. I don’t make mistakes with men.”

  “Oh, yeah. I mean, clearly.” God, she loved her sister. The tightness behind Victoria’s eyes finally eased. “But this really was my fault.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Cassidy paused as their food was delivered, a gigantic greasy burger set in front of each of them. “So tell me what ‘you’ did.” She dropped her air quotes and popped a fry into her mouth.

  “I—” Such an idiot. “I . . . fell for him.”

  Cassidy’s mouth dropped open.

  “Maybe,” Victoria said quickly. “Actually, probably not. No.” She stuffed a fry into her mouth.

  Cassidy’s open mouth slowly closed, and her lips tipped up at the edges. “You slut!”

  “What?” Victoria looked around the abandoned restaurant. “Shh!”

  “You love him!”

  No way! But what came out of her mouth instead was, “How does that make me a slut?”

  “Sluts are always falling in love with one guy and getting married and having babies.”

  “Oh, my God!” She jabbed a fry Cassidy’s direction. “There is no love, and certainly no marriage and babies.”

  “Really?” Cassidy raised her brows. “There’s no love?”

  “Cassidy, be realistic. It’s been two and a half weeks.”

  “I’m not hearing a no.” She reached toward the ketchup. “And nearly three weeks is plenty of time.”

  “No. It’s actually not.”

  “Every guy I’ve fallen in love with, I’ve fallen in less than two weeks.”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “You’ve never been in love.”

  “That’s beside the point.” She poured ketchup on her burger. “The point is, what are you going to do about it?” She took a big, sloppy bite, and, as she chewed, she gazed pointedly at Victoria.

  Some of that sadness edged back in. “What is there to do?”

  “How ’bout everything?” Cassidy asked around her bite of burger. “The possibilities are endless.”

  “There’s a ten-year age difference between us. He’s a gigolo. I only know him because I regularly pay him for sex.” Victoria laughed helplessly and spread her hands out. “There’s no happy ending here.” She’d pointedly left off any mention of Jeremy and the haunting memories that made her flinch from any thought of a relationship.

  “Well, not with that attitude, there isn’t.” There was a glint in Cassidy’s eyes. She knew Victoria hadn’t mentioned Jeremy on purpose. Knew that Victoria wasn’t over everything that had happened by a long shot. And she wasn’t going to let her get away with it.

  Go on the offensive. If there was one thing that would make Cassidy defensive . . . “Oh, my God.” Victoria leaned toward Cassidy. “You’re a romantic.”

  Cassidy’s eyes narrowed. “You shut your filthy mouth.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know this.” As Cassidy’s cheeks pinkened, it felt good to tease her, even if it was just a ploy.

  “You’re not fighting fair.”

  Victoria smiled. “I’m not fighting at all.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re fighting your feelings.”

  Guilty. “Cassidy . . . I don’t know what to do.” The confession itself felt dangerous, but she also knew there was no more danger of either of them mentioning Jeremy’s name and bringing up a tidal wave a pain Victoria barely kept at bay on a regular day.

  Cassidy chewed for a second, then set her burger down on her plate. “So, don’t do anything just yet.” She folded her arms on the table. “You’re right, two and a half weeks is soon. But it’s not impossible. Why don’t you just see how this plays out?”

  Victoria pressed her fingertip into the tines of the fork beside her plate. “Last night, our agreement ended. Today he had an appointment with another client”

  Cassidy wrinkled her nose, and sympathy flitted through her green eyes. “Yeah, that sucks. But appointments can be canceled.”

  Victoria breathed a laugh. He had canceled it. After I threw money at him. Her laugh died a sad death. She forged ahead before Cassidy could notice. “A romantic and an optimist. It’s like I’m meeting you for the first time.”

  “Well, you keep that shit to yourself. I have a reputation to protect. And, Tori?” Cassidy laid a hand over Victoria’s arm and squeezed. “Promise me you’ll at least give this a chance.”

  Victoria shook her head. “Cassidy, I don’t see a future for us.”

  Cassidy shrugged. “I do. Borrow my glasses.”

  “The rose-colored ones?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kip lifted his chin and watched his fingers in the mirror as they tied a double Windsor knot. The same mirror in which he’d watched his fingers do much more pleasant things last night. A night that felt so much farther away than a mere twenty-four hours.

  Kip had several suits in his closet at home—an occupational necessity—but this one was his favorite, so it was the one he brought to the hotel room to change into for dinner with Victoria tonight.

  Because he was a fucking idiot who cared more than he should for a mere client. A client who, apparently, saw dollar signs when she thought of him.

  He slipped into his suit jacket and jerked the sleeves down until they covered his French cuffs, trying to force himself into a semblance of a good mood before Victoria arrived, because he did have a price, as evidenced by his being here tonight, and she didn’t deserve his pissiness and . . .

  He wanted to enjoy tonight with her. Because it was probably going to be the only night he got to be someone Victoria int
roduced to people she respected instead of—

  His phone buzzed again. One of his regulars—the second time she’d called today—and he hovered his finger over the green button on his screen. It hovered there until the call went through to voicemail. A minute later, he got the notification she’d left a second message.

  He’d never checked the first.

  But if Victoria asked tonight, he’d lie and say he’d set up more clients for after tonight. He’d lie with everything inside of him, because that offer of buying him out had . . .

  Fuck. It had destroyed him. And he’d strike back the only way he knew how.

  But there was one thing Kip knew for sure. Victoria may not want him in any capacity other than their arrangement, but he was never taking a client again. And not just because he didn’t have to, due to starting his business.

  Given a couple more hours, he probably would have canceled tonight’s new client anyway, even without Victoria’s phone call. He’d never be able to do this with anyone else again. Ever. For the first time in his life, he’d had sex that meant something. Completely by accident, but it had happened nonetheless. He didn’t want to go back to the meaningless kind again.

  The sound of the hotel door opening made him spin around, and he wobbled as he caught sight of Victoria standing limned in the hotel hallway light. She was wearing a black cocktail dress that hugged every single one of his favorite curves. Her hair was down tonight, taking him by surprise. It curled in loose waves around her face and shoulders, leading his gaze to her cleavage, set to breathtaking display by the best fucking dress he’d ever seen. The hem was daringly high on her thighs, and he followed long, long legs down to peep-toe black stilettos.

  “Holy hell,” he breathed. Everything—all the hurt, confusion, and angst—disappeared at the sight of her, and he was just so damn happy to see her that walking over to take her hands in his became the only thing he cared about.

  Her brown eyes looked up at him. “You’re so handsome,” she whispered.

  “I’d better be if I’m going to keep up with this.” Kip held their linked hands out to the sides and took unmitigated pleasure in looking her over again. “I’m not going to want you to take this off tonight.”

  Her lips parted, and her sweet, pink tongue darted out and along her bottom lip. “Sounds promising.”

  He eyed her red lipstick with regret. “I want to kiss you so bad.”

  She breathed a laugh. “Don’t you dare. It took me forever to get this on right.”

  He brushed away a stray bit of red with the edge of his thumb, something in his chest getting tight. “Well, you nailed it.”

  She pulled in a slow breath. “I’m so nervous.” He saw her throat work around a swallow. “About dinner. I’m terrible in social situations. Put me in a boardroom and I dominate, but dinner?”

  His brain fritzed out for a moment, catching on the word dominate and hanging there while possibilities of her demonstrating said dominance danced in his head. Handcuffs would definitely be involved.

  He cleared his throat and shoved the images aside. He could revisit them later. “Well, dinner is my specialty. I’ve got your back” He turned to the side and offered her his arm. “Ready to go?”

  She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and he took that as a yes even though her lips hadn’t moved, her pulse was visibly racing in her throat, and her already huge eyes were larger than normal.

  Victoria was rarely composed in bed, but in every other situation—except for the lock-herself-in-the-bathroom incident, of course—she was unflappable. He used her grip on his arm to pull her closer. Their hips bumped into each other as they walked, so instead of walking in a line, they weaved a bit. Kip didn’t care. The thought of Victoria in a panic did something to his chest that was tight and uncomfortable, and he was going to do whatever he could to make sure her panic over tonight was unfounded.

  When they passed the desk in the lobby, the employees who were used to seeing them daily at this point all seemed to gawk at the couple who rarely left the room at night now strolling across the marble in semi-formal wear.

  Victoria ducked even closer to him. “They’re staring.”

  He placed a hand over hers in the bend of his arm and squeezed. “Well, yeah. You did look in the mirror before we left, right?”

  She sniffed, but that blush he loved swept up her chest and throat to her cheeks.

  When they got outside, there was an awkward moment when Kip automatically started leading her to his car, and she did the same toward hers. Their arms jerked a bit, her hand sliding from under his at the pressure of separating bodies.

  She looked up at him, her brow furrowed, and he realized what he’d done.

  Damn it. He’d gone into date mode, even though he hadn’t been on an actual date in recent memory. Even though Victoria had just reminded him of his place in her life earlier today. He’d been ready to escort her to his car and drive her around as though he had the right to.

  He cleared his throat and reached for her hand again. “Sorry. Thought your car was over here.”

  Her brow smoothed out. “Oh. Nope.” She tugged at his arm. “This way.”

  Kip smoothed a hand down the front of his jacket as he followed her lead. When he opened the driver’s side door for her and handed her in, he couldn’t resist pressing a brief kiss to the back of her hand before closing the door for her and making the trek around the trunk to his side of the car. He gripped the handle but paused to draw a deep breath before opening the door and sinking into the buttery, leather seats.

  Head in the game.

  “So, when you told them about our relationship, what specifics did you give?”

  Victoria pulled out onto the street, a small line appearing between her eyebrows, making him want to smooth a thumb over it. “Specifics?”

  “How we met. How long we’ve been together.”

  “Oh.” She flicked a quick glance his way as she made a right-hand turn. “No specifics. Just that we’ve been together for months.” She smiled sheepishly. “Plural.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “We’re going to need backstory.”

  “Shit.” She clenched the steering wheel. “We will, won’t we? Ah, God, why didn’t I think of that?” She looked at the dashboard. “We’re going to be there in five minutes.”

  For someone who was so afraid of potentially awkward situations, she sure got herself into them with a frequency that was . . . endearing. He reached over and placed a palm on her thigh. When his fingers—without his express permission—flexed into the supple flesh, he forced himself to behave. “Relax, honey.” His fingers squeezed again, damn them, and things got uncomfortably tight behind his fly. “Let’s say, ten months, okay?” He shifted in his seat, hoping to give his pinched dick some relief. “Respectable without them expecting a ring on your finger. And we met at—”

  “Church!” she blurted.

  Kip reeled back. “Church?”

  “He’s a Republican! I don’t know!”

  He was starting to get a glimpse into how they’d landed in this situation to start with. Under-Pressure-Victoria was a powder keg of bad ideas and loose lips. It was fucking amazing. “Honey, the way I’ll be looking at you tonight, there’s no way they’ll believe we met in a place of worship.”

  “Kip, be serious. We’re almost there.”

  “The man owns a casino, Victoria. He makes a living off of vice. Just”—he squeezed her thigh again—“relax. You don’t have to be perfect.”

  She muttered something that sounded like yeah, right. “How about . . . charity work?”

  He smiled at her. “That’s good. Needs to be something we know enough about to carry on conversation, though. How about volunteering at the children’s hospital?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  He shrugged. “That’s okay. I do, so just follow my lead.”

  She looked at him hard as she pulled up to The Ricchezza. “You know
about it?”

  Kip straightened his sleeves. “Volunteer twice a month.”

  As her mouth dropped open, Kip turned and exited the car, trying valiantly to keep the surge of victory at bay. It didn’t matter that he’d surprised her. All that mattered was pulling this off.

  A casino employee held Victoria’s door open for her, and she wobbled as she got to her feet. Every protective instinct Kip had flared to life, and he found himself hustling around the car to grip her elbow.

  He pulled her against his chest for just long enough to whisper in her ear, “It will all be okay. I promise, I won’t let you fail tonight.”

  She relaxed against him and exhaled, her warm, sweet breath seeping through the fine fabric of his dress shirt. She straightened, and as her warmth receded, Kip’s nipples tightened.

  If only his body weren’t so responsive to hers. Maybe then he’d have half a hope of getting out of this night entirely intact.

  He turned and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Just trust me.” He lowered his voice. “Follow my lead and know I’ll agree with whatever you say. Even if you blurt out that we met in fucking Sunday school, okay?”

  She drew in a shaky breath and nodded. She glanced up at him. “Thank you, Kip.

  He smiled softly. “Anything.”

  Which was an asinine thing to say, as it both didn’t fit the context of what she’d said and was completely inappropriate for a working relationship. Damn.

  One of the many doormen held a glass and gold door for them, and Kip ushered Victoria into a land of opulent chaos. The dinging of slot machines echoed from every corner, and gold dripped from the ceiling. The scent of cheap but copious liquor was stringent enough to sting his nose.

  Beside him, Victoria’s gaze drank in everything. She stilled completely, and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head as ideas cropped up like dandelions.

  She wanted this so badly. She deserved this account. He was going to make sure she got it.

  “Ms. Hastings.”

  They turned to find a woman wearing a floor-length, sequined ball gown smiling in their direction. She was beautiful in the conspicuously perfect way that seemed to negate the very word beautiful itself. Every hair was in place; her makeup was flawless. Men stared in stupefied wonder as she walked past them toward Kip and Victoria with a vacantly welcoming expression. If Victoria hadn’t stressed Mr. Davis’s conservative side, Kip would have pegged this woman as one of his own profession.