Nightshade

by Jen Talty

  Casually stuffing his hands into his pockets, he made his way across the lounge. He smiled and nodded at the group of men sitting in wing-back chairs around a small table in the center. Xavier recognized one of the men as Larry Thompson, a so-called businessman who gave loans to those in need, only to rip them off in the end.

  Xavier couldn’t prove it. Yet. But he would. It was only a matter of time.

  Rick returned with two drinks. “This part of the lounge is men only. You are welcome to use it anytime. The bar will keep a running tab, and each month you will get a bill. If you don’t use it, you will be charged a seventy-five dollar service fee.”

  Xavier raised the whiskey glass to his lips and let the dark liquid flow down his throat. The scotch didn’t burn, but he was glad he hadn’t taken a larger gulp.

  “Good, right?” Rick held up his glass. “Nothing like a good bottle of Bunnahabhain.”

  “One of my favorites.” His dad’s, actually, but what did it matter? “So, if women aren’t allowed back here, how am I supposed to pick who I want as my companion?”

  “The VIP lounge really doesn’t have anything to do with Nightshade, other than all the members here have at one point used our services.” Rick snapped his fingers, and one of the waiters came rushing over carrying a tablet. “We take pride in matching our clients with the perfect companion. That’s why it sometimes takes a few weeks. Between vetting new girls and making sure ones who are coming off contracts have had enough downtime—”

  “Downtime?” Thus far, Xavier couldn’t find a single illegal activity. Shady maybe, but nothing that could get anyone arrested.

  “Many of our employees sign on for a second year with a new client, if we can match them, but we want to make sure they’ve been out of the limelight long enough that people like you don’t start reporting on things that just aren’t true.” Rick raised his glass.

  Xavier leaned back, tossing his free hand on the back of the booth. “You wouldn’t have accepted my application if you believed my job was going to interfere with your business model.”

  “Only partly true.” Rick pushed his glass to the side and set up the tablet on the table. “We don’t like calling Nightshade an escort service because that always gives the wrong impression, but as I pointed out in your contract, there is nothing keeping you from writing any article about what we do. However, your contract with our employee will differ. Most of our women don’t want to be called out.” He tapped the screen, pulling up two of images of young women. “I’ve got three groupings. These ladies have very strict rules. They don’t stay at your house, or overnight. How often they go out with you is limited.”

  He downed the rest of his drink as he stared into the dull eyes of women who he didn’t believe had control of anything, much less calling the shots with a client. He wished he could track down all these women and help them right now. “I want someone living in my house.”

  Rick nodded. “I totally understand, but please remember, under no circumstance are our employees expected to have sexual relations. We aren’t that kind of service.”

  “But it does happen, correct?”

  Rick swiped the tablet screen, pausing with his hand hovering over the next two images. “What you and our employee do as consenting adults is between you. That said, she is not required. It’s not at all part of the contract.”

  Point made.

  “You mentioned the length of the contract is negotiable.”

  “We have a one-month trial period. If after that time, things aren’t going as expected, or you’re not a good match, either party can terminate, but all contracts are twelve months.”

  “I want the option to extend the companionship,” Xavier said.

  “We generally revisit that at the nine-month mark, but it’s always a possibility. We have a couple of gentleman who have been with the same girl for many years. Hell, we even have two couples who ended the agreement and got married.”

  “Whoa. That is exactly what I’m not looking for.” Not a lie. Xavier didn’t have time for relationships, and he honestly hadn’t had one since college. A few friends with benefits, but that’s about it.

  Rick laughed. “No worries. Now, for employees looking for a long-term gig, these are the two best matches to your profile.” He handed Xavier a set of headphones. “I’ll let you get acquainted with these two amazing women. If neither one of them tickles your fancy, we will keep searching.”

  One of the women had boy-short blonde hair. Hollow cheekbones, like a skinny runway model. Her eyes were a smoky gray and while she was most definitely hot, she wasn’t the kind of woman anyone could believe Xavier would be interested in. Didn’t matter that all of this was fake, one night in the spotlight and everyone would be speculating, and not how he had planned. He’d spent the last few weeks hinting that he’d been seeing a special lady, and he needed one to fit the bill.

  He ran his fingers across the screen and sucked in a deep breath. He blinked. And swallowed.

  Then did it again.

  “She’s perfect,” he whispered, staring at the quintessential girl next door. She had long, dark hair and a sweet smile that told him she was not only smart but held a softness that couldn’t be faked. Strong and independent, but not overly aggressive.

  Sweet.

  And her blue-green eyes expressed a kindness that melted his heart.

  “California Banister.” He let her name roll off his lips like honey clinging to the hive. “I want her.”

  Having five grand instantly pop into Cali’s bank account hadn’t even put a dent into what she needed to help her parents and did nothing but frazzle her nerves. However, getting the phone call that she’d been matched to a client and having another twenty grand magically appear, giving her nearly thirty-five thousand in savings, total, gave her hope.

  An entire month had ticked by since she’d found out her parents were being strong-armed by Mr. Larry Thompson, who worked for a known crime family, the Carluccis, leaving her now with ten months to meet their financial demands, or her parents would lose everything.

  She tugged her large rolling suitcase across the train station in Montauk and parked herself near the front door. Every time someone stepped in or out, a burst of freezing air managed to slip inside her down jacket, prickling her skin. Wet snow fell from the dark sky. She shivered, hugging herself, waiting for Xavier Sumner to saunter into the building. The agreement she’d signed to be his companion for the next year had been simple and straightforward.

  And sex wasn’t part of the deal.

  Though she knew that part was an unspoken contract. Every girl she’d talked to inside the organization said it eventually came with the territory.

  Well, at least Xavier was eye candy.

  Maybe in a couple of years she’d be able to wash off all the shame and guilt that had already started to build under her skin.

  She had agreed to live in his house in Montauk, mostly because it meant more money and it was only a three-and-a-half-hour train ride back to the Bronx where she could see her family. Better than being paired with someone across the country. She further consented to attending fundraisers, parties, public appearances, among other things when needed. In essence, she was to appear to be Xavier’s girlfriend for the next year.

  Maybe in the summer, when it was warmer, she’d feel better about the situation. Right now, the concept chilled her bones like the white stuff blanketing the ground.

  During the phone call she’d had with Xavier yesterday, he’d made it clear she’d have a bedroom suite all to herself, that sex was not a requirement, ever, but when they traveled, for the sake of appearances, they would need to share a hotel room, though he mentioned he’d do his best to always book suites or penthouses with more than one bedroom.

  Must be nice to have enough money that could feed an entire country, but instead you spend it on hotel rooms.

  She shoved her hands in her pockets, staring out the door, searching for the handsome face she’d seen
the other day when she’d Googled him and watched a few of his crime pieces on some investigative program. At least he was young and handsome and not some fifty-year-old that wanted a pretty little thing to show off. Not that it would matter. This was strictly a business arrangement. She was providing a service and getting paid to do so.

  God, that sounded like a high-class call girl if she ever heard of one.

  The scene where Richard Gere picks up Julia Roberts in a car he can’t drive in the movie Pretty Woman appeared in her brain.

  No sex required, she reminded herself.

  Ha! She knew it would be part of the equation eventually.

  A black Range Rover with large tires rolled to a stop in front of the station. The driver’s side door swung open and out stepped Xavier.

  Her breath hitched as she clutched the buttons on her coat. He wore dark sunglasses, his light-brown hair buzzed close to his head. His jeans hung low on his hips. His tan work-type boots sloshed in the snow while the wind caught his unzipped North Face jacket.

  How he wasn’t an ice cube, she had no idea.

  “Hey, Cali, sorry I’m late,” he said, leaning in and kissing her cheek, letting his lips linger as if they’d known each other for more than three seconds.

  “I’ve only been waiting for a few minutes.” She eyed him while he snagged her suitcase and opened the door. She anticipated their first few minutes together to be awkward, but this was just weird until she stepped out into the cold ocean air and was nearly blinded by what she had thought was sun glare but turned out to be a man pointing a camera in their direction, shouting questions. She couldn’t put the words together as she ducked into the SUV.

  Xavier slammed the car into drive and sped off.

  “What was that all about?” she asked.

  “I made the mistake of mentioning a girlfriend in a local café where that reporter had been having coffee, watching me, wondering why I’d moved into my parents’ summer home.”

  “I thought you owned it?” Her voice screeched worse than fingers on a chalkboard.

  Xavier was only twenty-five, and he’d made his name as a reporter and now a novelist. However, he was still the son to the billionaire William Xavier Sumner II, so she assumed he had a house. Or two.

  On the train, she’d read a few social media posts, bashing his book deal, saying he bought himself into publishing. Based on the work she’d seen on his television show, and his in-depth knowledge of the subject matter he reported on, she’d bet the negative attention had more to do with jealousy or sour grapes.

  But what did she know?

  “I own a loft in Manhattan’s Upper East Side, but I needed some quiet to finish my second book, so my parents told me to use their summer place. I’m thinking I want to buy out here sometime.”

  Such troubles to have. “It’s miserable here in the winter.”

  “Everywhere in New York is unbearable when it’s cold.” He glanced in her direction before checking out the rearview mirror. “It’s nice to meet you, Cali.”

  She let out a slight laugh, which was cut short when she looked over her shoulder and noticed the car the reporter had been driving was hot on their heels. Being chased by the paparazzi was the last thing she needed.

  “Do they always chase you down like this?”

  “No. Not usually. But don’t worry. This story will die down quickly. No one cares that much about my love life or my book deal. That guy has had it in for me since I was picked for the same internship he’d applied for when we were back in high school. Let’s just say he’s been a bit of a stalker ever since, but harmless. And no one buys into his stories much anyway.”

  She pulled out her phone and brought up the social media post. “Is his name Jeff Marlin?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “He’s been bashing you on social media.” She held up her phone as they approached a stoplight heading to the north shore of Montauk facing Block Island Sound near Fort Pond Bay.

  Xavier peered over his sunglasses, showing off his light-emerald eyes. He had a boyish face with his high cheekbones and rounded chin with not a speck of facial hair that she could detect. Clean cut and wholesome would be the only way to describe Xavier.

  In his profile picture, he wore a golf shirt, showing off his muscular shoulders and arms. Tall and lean and sexy as hell.

  “Is he getting a lot of hits or views?”

  “In the thousands,” she said, knowing in the scheme of things that meant Jeff didn’t have a large following and that most likely anyone who came across the information had probably Googled Xavier like she had.

  “Doing your research on me?” He winked, then shoved his glasses back up on his face. The Range Rover jerked forward through the green light.

  “Just curious about who I’d be spending the next year with.” She stared through the window, checking out all the expensive houses ranging from small two-bedroom cottages to ten-thousand-square-foot homes overlooking the beach. She’d spent two summers working at a resort in the Hamptons and as of this moment, she much preferred the look and feel of Montauk. Not that after this year she’d be returning to the area. Every penny she earned would be saved and then spent on December 31.

  Actually, she hoped before that date simply because she didn’t want her parents worrying anymore.

  She hated lying to them about why she chose to take a year off between her four-year degree and law school, but she couldn’t tell them she’d become an employee of Nightshade Corporation. Instead, she’d informed her parents she’d been offered a job working with the Sumners, specifically Xavier, helping him with the research of his new crime novel, which involved a law firm.

  She had no idea what his second book would be about, but she’d deal with that later. Hopefully, they didn’t go looking for information and stuck with their routine of watching only game shows on television and reading the local paper.

  “Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?” He turned left onto Soundview Drive and made a quick right into a driveway. The houses in this section had to go for at least fifteen million or more. Butterflies filled her stomach.

  She’d hit pay dirt.

  “Go right ahead,” she said with a breathy lightness similar to a spring breeze rolling in off the ocean.

  “If you want to be a lawyer, why aren’t you going to school right now?”

  “I’m taking some time off to study for my LSATs as well saving some money. Law school is expensive, and I don’t want massive loans.” Not too far from the truth.

  “Makes sense.” He pulled the SUV into the four-car-deep garage under the pool, a concept she’d never seen before. A car with a cover draped over it had been parked in front of the Range Rover and next to that was some kind of large motorcycle, also under a cloth cover. Rich people were so weird.

  She followed him up a short staircase and into a large family room with two matching light-greenish-gray leather sofas and two white leather recliners. The floor looked like a whitewashed hardwood but felt soft under her shoes. The room had a very modern flare with a beachy feel, and it faced the ocean. The front of the house had sliding glass doors everywhere. “This is beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” he said, setting the suitcase at the bottom of the staircase. “I’ll take that up to your room after we have a cocktail and some dinner.”

  She nodded, letting her fingers trace the white circular dining room table, the sun beating through the clear glass, warming her face. Shedding her coat, she made her way to the breakfast bar off the kitchen. Every appliance was stainless steel and looked brand new.

  “So, tell me, Cali, are you also looking for a long-term relationship past our agreement?”

  She swallowed. Not a question she thought too much about. “Why don’t you ask me that in about six months.”

  He laughed as he opened a wine cooler and pulled out two bottles. “Red or white?”

  “What’s for dinner?”

  “Filet Mignon, sour cream and chive mashed p
otatoes, and asparagus. Or if you don’t like that—”

  “That’s perfect; let’s open the red.”

  “Works for me.” He pulled out some fancy corkscrew and popped open the bottle, pouring the dark-red liquid into a carafe. While she liked wine, having a bottle that cost more than ten dollars and really needed to breathe before drinking was so far out of her wheelhouse. Hell, this house was out of her league.

  “I’m curious, why does a man like you go to Nightshade Corporation for companionship? I suspect you could have any woman you wanted.”

  Pulling down two large wine glasses, he shook his head. “This is going to sound so conceited, but that’s the reason right there, and not because I think I’m all that special, but the last two women I dated were either after my family’s money or thought dating me would be glamorous and give them their fifteen minutes of fame, only they figured out really quick, I’m not famous and other than the asshole who snapped our picture at the Amtrak station, no one cares what I do.”

  “According to our agreement, part of my role will be to attend parties and other functions.”

  He nodded, leaning his hip against the counter. “I do have a couple of book things I need to attend, and my parents have different events they want me at. To be totally honest, my parents think we met a few months ago. This is my way of getting them off my back, but also, I wouldn’t mind settling down.”

  “At twenty-six?”

  “You’re three years younger than me and yet here you are in a year-long agreement to be my companion. Or are you in it just for the money?”

  “Perhaps a little of both,” she said, pressing her hands against her lap as she sat on one of the bar stools. She was only here for the money. Once this was over, she figured he’d want to terminate the arrangement, and when she’d been given her severance package, they’d go their separate ways, no harm no foul. “But, of course, I’m looking for something long-term; I just don’t view it as settling down. I’m far from marriage, kids, all that. I want to finish my law degree, get a job, and then maybe settling down will be in the end game.”