Deacon wasn’t like my other clients, though. When he looked at me, I felt like he wanted to consume me and possess me. Hell, he’d even tracked me down to my apartment. He wanted me for a whole weekend and seemed obsessed with me.
I almost always enjoyed sex as an escort, but it went to a whole new level with him. I would be kidding myself if I didn’t admit I thought about him a lot since our night together. He made me come harder than any man ever had, and I was looking forward to a weekend of hot sex with him. I had a feeling we had just scratched the surface in the bedroom.
I stopped crying and stood up, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I reached up and slowly pulled the wig from my head as I kicked off my heels. I walked to my closet and put the wig away. While I was in there, I pulled out a box hidden in the back. I sat on the floor and opened it with a deep breath, pulling out the pictures.
The first one was of my mother and me when I was about five. I smiled and touched the picture. It was taken on my birthday. It was shortly after that our world fell apart.
My father had died in a car accident when I was a baby. My mom struggled to raise me, and when she met Bill, she thought she had found someone who would take care of her and her daughter. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Bill was nice at first. He bought me presents and took us places. He fooled us long enough for my mother to agree to marry him. Even that went well for a while until he lost his job. He started drinking heavily and the true man came out.
I fought back the tears as I remembered the screams and cries I would hear late at night when he got home from the bars. He made Mom work two jobs to support us, and if her checks weren’t enough for him to drink, he beat her. The frequency of the beatings increased until they occurred almost every night.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them to me while I thought about the way Mom would wince when she walked in the morning. He was smart enough not to touch her face when he hurt her, but the rest of her body was covered in bruises. She was in constant pain, and it was all because of him. He was raping her every night too. I heard her cries and his grunts as he had his way with her. A couple of times he even had friends over and let them do what they wanted with her.
He never hurt me, at least not physically. I heard him threaten Mom that he would…just another way to control her. What he did to me was more emotional than anything, making me always scared of what he’d do to me.
I’ll never forget the day I came home from school when I was fourteen. The apartment door was open, and a police officer was walking out, shaking his head when he saw me. He stopped me in the hall, warning me not to go inside. I had pushed past him, needing to see what that asshole had done. I was never prepared for the scene that greeted me.
My mother was sitting there, bloody from Bill’s latest beating. I dropped to my knees by her, sobbing. I took her hand and cried until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and was shocked to find my stepdad not far away—with a gunshot wound to the head.
I had always feared my mom would die at his hands, but never expected it to be the other way around. He came home from the bars one afternoon and started beating on her. She finally had enough and managed to get his gun from the nightstand and shot him. I walked over to his body, standing above him with a smile. We were able to start over.
It didn’t last long. Shortly after Mom was cleared for Bill’s murder on the grounds of self-defense, she got sick. She had horrible headaches, and they found a brain tumor. She went downhill fast, leaving me all alone.
If I thought life sucked with my stepdad, life without my mother was a million times worse. I shuffled through my box and found a picture I hadn’t looked at in a couple of years. I think I was sixteen in the picture, and I was standing next to a blond haired boy a little bit older than me. He was the reason I lived the life I did.
My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I reached for it and saw Leslie’s name on the screen. I sighed and hit the ‘ignore’ button. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to her or anyone right now. I shoved the pictures back in the box and hid it back in the corner of my closet before standing up. It was time to forget about that part of my life right now.
I started the tub, making sure the water was scalding hot. While it was filling up, I went into the kitchen to get a bottle of wine, not even bothering with a glass. The plan was to drink this bottle and go to bed to pass out. I wanted to forget this day even happened, and I would worry about the situation with Deacon tomorrow.
I took a long drink of wine and walked back to the bathroom, hearing my phone ringing again. I rolled my eyes when I saw it was Leslie again. I wanted to text her and tell her to leave me alone, but she would know I was around and keep trying. She was nothing if not persistent.
I let it ring to voicemail and soon after she sent me a text to call her. I looked and saw she had left me a couple voicemails as well. I was tempted to turn off the phone but I thought about the contents of the box and how she saved me. I reluctantly called her.
The phone barely rang before she answered. “Violet, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”
“I was in the bathroom,” I mumbled as I started to unbutton my blouse.
“You were ignoring me,” she stated and I didn’t say anything. I could never lie to her.
“It doesn’t matter. I talked to Deacon. He’s as interested as ever in seeing you this weekend.” She cleared her throat. “He kind of insisted.”
“Did he threaten my job?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. I wouldn’t put it past him. He was the kind of guy who didn’t take no for an answer and did whatever he had to in order to get what he wanted.
“Not in so many words but do you want to take that chance?”
I didn’t say anything, my eyes filling up with tears. I pressed my fingers to my forehead. I wasn’t going to let another man try to ruin my life. “Fine, I’ll still do it.”
“I’m sorry you’re in this mess, Violet, I really am.”
I swiped away a tear that had escaped onto my cheek. “It’s okay. I always end up on my feet, right? Listen, my bath is getting cold. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Do you want me to come over? We can drink wine and complain about men, or I’ll bring a movie. We could even go out for a drink.”
“No, I appreciate the gesture, but I’m okay. I’m going to get drunk in my bathtub and go to bed,” I laughed. “Tomorrow is a new day.”
“That it is,” she said. “Good night, Violet.”
“Good night, Leslie.” I hung up the phone and finished undressing. I got into the bathtub and put my wine bottle nearby. I closed my eyes and felt the tension release my muscles when my phone rang again. Without thinking, I grabbed it to answer it.
“Leslie, I told you I’m fine,” I said, scolding her.
There was a pause on the other end. “This isn’t Leslie,” a deep voice replied, one that I would know anywhere.
I sat up in the tub, the water sloshing all around me. “Deacon?”
“I’m downstairs, Violet. Be down in fifteen minutes or I’m coming up.”
He hung up the phone before I could even respond, and I stared down at my phone. What the hell was he doing here and what did he want?
Chapter Three
Deacon
I sat in my car outside of Violet’s building, waiting for her to come down. I was confident enough to think she would be out shortly. She knew me well enough by now to know I would come up there.
I watched out the window, tapping my foot on the floor of the limo. When I went home that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about Violet. It didn’t help that Shane was so excited about his first day of school he couldn’t stop talking about her.
After I put him to bed, I tried to lose myself in a movie, but every time I closed my eyes I saw the hurt in her gorgeous green eyes when I mentioned her being an escort in the classroom. I was consumed with guilt; I didn’t want to cause her any pain.
I h
ad finally called my driver and left the house to see her and apologize.
I smiled when I saw her coming out of the building, her brown hair up in a messy bun on her head. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, along with some ballet flats. I got out of the car to open the door for her.
“Violet,” I called to her, getting her attention. She turned to face me, the wind blowing a stray piece of hair into her face. She brushed it away and walked toward me. I was disappointed she didn’t smile when she saw me, but I couldn’t blame her after earlier today.
“What do you want?” she asked when she got to me.
“That’s not a nice way to greet someone,” I replied, shaking my head at her. I motioned toward the car. “Get in, please.”
“I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?” She glared at me before getting into the limo.
I climbed in after her and closed the door. She smelled like fresh flowers in the rain, and I wanted to pull her into me to take her in. Instead, I sat across from her. “Violet, we always have a choice.”
She snorted and shook her head. “Please, Deacon, I’m tired and want to go to bed. What’s this about?” Her cheeks were flushed and I wondered if she had been drinking before I had arrived. I didn’t want her drunk, but if she was more relaxed, she might listen to me.
I ran my hands through my hair, suddenly nervous. I didn’t apologize often, especially to women. I looked her in the eye. “I wanted to apologize for today.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and didn’t say anything. “Let me buy you a drink and we can talk.”
“Fine,” she spat out. “One drink.”
I let the driver know where to take us and he pulled away from her building. The ride was quick but we didn’t say anything. He pulled up to a tiny bar away from everything and I got out. I offered Violet a hand, but she ignored it.
“Where are we?” She looked up at the run down building.
“A favorite place of mine. We can talk here. It will be quiet and we won’t be interrupted.” I put my hand on the small of her back and guided her to the door. I opened it for her, always the gentleman.
When we got inside, the bartender nodded at me. There were only a few others in the bar, and their eyes were all drawn to Violet. I couldn’t blame them; I was sure they weren’t used to gorgeous women like her frequenting the place. I didn’t like it, though.
“Let’s take the corner booth,” I said, nodding to the back. I let her lead the way and she slipped into the booth, looking around. I sat next to her, and when the bartender came over, I ordered a whiskey and looked at her for her order.
“A glass of white wine, please,” she said, her voice soft. The bartender nodded and went back behind the bar.
“How did you find this place?”
I shrugged and glanced around. I liked it. It reminded me of the pubs back in England with the simple decorations. You could be yourself in a place like this and not worry about putting on appearances. I didn’t tell her I conducted a lot of my business in here; she didn’t need to know that.
“Let’s just say I stumbled upon it one day,” I smiled at her and she shook her head again. Whatever hold I had on her a couple of days ago was slowly slipping away. Men like me were a dime a dozen in her world and she wasn’t easily impressed.
Our drinks arrived and I thanked the bartender. I watched her take a sip of her wine, her pink lips on the glass—the same pink lips that were wrapped around my cock last weekend.
I cleared my throat, dismissing the memory. “I’m sorry about today. I was surprised to see you at my son’s school, let alone as his teacher.”
She nodded and took another drink. “I suppose. I was as shocked to see you.”
Since she had only agreed to one drink with me, I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “What makes a gorgeous, smart girl like you work as a private school first-grade teacher during the week and a high priced escort on the weekends?”
She pushed her wine glass away with a sigh. “I had a rough life. I’ll spare you the details, but I ended up on the street, turning tricks in the front seats of cars and alley ways.” She looked down at her hands, not looking me in the eye. “I was almost killed one day, and Leslie saved me.”
I tipped back my whiskey, rage building at the thought of someone hurting her. I waved for the bartender to bring another. “Go on,” I urged, wanting to hear more.
“She didn’t have any children, and I had no one, so she took me in as her own daughter. She was running the business she has now, but she forbid me from working for her. She paid for me to go to college and get my teaching degree. Through some strings she pulled, she got me the job at the private school before I had even graduated.”
She shifted in her seat and looked up at me. “Only Leslie knows this about me.”
I nodded. “So when did you become an escort?”
She played with a silver ring on the middle finger of her left hand. “Growing up, we never had money. My mom was always struggling. I was making okay money at the school, but living in Chicago was expensive. Leslie would offer to cover some of my living expenses, but she had already done so much for me by sending me to college. I didn’t want to take any more from her.
“I saw how she cared for her girls and how careful she was about who they went with. She told me one day what one of them could make on a night, and I asked her to hire me. She was reluctant at first, but one night she was in a bind when a girl got sick, so she called me.”
She licked her lips. “I was so nervous at first, but then the guy was so nice. He made sure I was pleasured, and he was polite and clean. It wasn’t at all like my first days as a hooker. Leslie started getting me more and more bookings, and I became addicted to the men and sex—and especially the money. I was finally able to take care of myself and not rely on anyone. I even paid her back for college, despite her protests.”
The bartender brought me my second drink and I drank it, trying to ease the ache in my chest. The pain was so evident when Violet talked about her past, and I got the feeling she was only scratching the surface of what she was telling me. She was the strongest and most independent woman I had ever met, but I wanted to wrap her in my arms and take care of her. I wanted to shield her from feeling any pain ever again.
“You have mostly high end clients, don’t you?” She nodded and I shrugged. “You’ve never seen a client at school before today?”
“No. I’m sure some of their kids go there, but a lot of parents have other people doing the drop off and pick up and are too busy to be hands on, especially the fathers.”
“Right.” That made sense. If Shane’s mother hadn’t died, who knows if I would’ve even step foot in that school.
“Let me ask you a question,” she said, tilting her head to the side.
“Okay,” I said, playing with my glass.
“Where’s Shane’s mom? He didn’t mention her once today, but he sure did talk about you a lot.” She grinned at me. “He thinks you’re a superhero.”
I chuckled at her words, then sobered up. “Shane’s mom died when he was very little. He has no memories of her.” My words were short, hoping she got the hint I didn’t want to talk about it any further.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking down. “Shane’s a great little boy. You’ve done a great job with him.”
“Thank you,” I said softly. Her words meant more to me than anything anyone could have said to me. Being successful in business was important to me, but being a good single parent to Shane was even more so.
We sat in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. It seemed we both fought our own demons and dealt with our own heartache. Life hadn’t been kind to either of us.
She drank the rest of her wine and pushed the glass away. “I have to go, Deacon. I’m tired and I have to get up early.”
“One more thing,” I said, putting a hand up. “I still want to spend the weekend with you.”
“Leslie told me. I guess I don’t have a choi
ce or you’ll turn me in at school.” She pursed her lips and sat straight in the booth.
I rubbed my face. Even I had to admit I was a bit of an asshole when it came to having my way with Violet. “I know that’s what it sounded like. I wouldn’t, though,” I assured her. “I want you to spend the weekend with me, as Violet. Not as an escort I hired for the weekend.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to pay you. I want you to be with me because you want me, not because I’m paying you.” I leaned forward. “Spend the weekend with me. If you don’t enjoy it, I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”
“I don’t know. Can I think about it and give you an answer tomorrow?” She slid out of the booth and stood up. “I have to go. I can get a cab.”
“No,” I protested and stood up. “I’m leaving too and my driver will drop you off.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “I will give you until tomorrow to decide. I’ll pick Shane up from school and you can let me know then.”
“Fair enough,” she said.
I left more than enough money on the bar to pay for our drinks and put my hand on the small of her back again as we left the bar. The driver was waiting outside and I opened the door to let her in. I slid in next to her.
We made small talk on the way back to her apartment. She filled me in on Shane’s day and told me a little bit more about her classroom and teaching style. It was obvious she loved kids and I felt fortunate she was his teacher.
We pulled up to her building and she reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Wait,” I said, moving to put my hand on hers.
“Deacon, really, I don’t have time for this,” she said, her voice strained.
Working Girl: Volume Two Page 2
