Escorting the Billionaire by Leigh James
James
The factthat she wanted to go to a game was almost enough to make me try to buy her outright. But the fact that she was an escort with a heart of gold?
She was fucking killing me.
Normally in a situation like this, I would have been skeptical. I expected the alcoholic mother and the absent father. But the brother in the group home? If she’d been playing me, I’d either say that she was pushing too hard or that she was predictable.
But Audrey was telling me the truth. How did I know? Because she offered nothing, and because she clearly didn’t want my sympathy. She wanted to hide it from me.
I understood her perfectly.
I called Kai, and we went to the game straight from the Commons. We had box seats, bought from an old friend for an exorbitant fee earlier this morning. “These are great seats, James,” Audrey said, nodding in approval. “Killer.”
“I’m glad you like them,” I said.
“You know what else I’d like?” she asked me, grinning.
I would have given her anything she asked for right then.
“A beer, James. A big one.”
We ordered enormous beers and later, hot dogs. To my delight, Audrey completely ignored me during the game. She stuffed her hot dog into her mouth unselfconsciously and watched every play.
She even recognized Johnny Pesky when he came out for an awards presentation at halftime. “That’s Johnny Pesky!” she exclaimed, practically spitting out her beer. “This is so fucking awesome!”
After she calmed down enough to watch the last couple innings, I let myself have the extreme and very dangerous pleasure of putting my arm around her. And just like that, she settled in next to me, as if she belonged there.
Back at my house, we had a glass of wine.
“What’s on the docket for tomorrow?” Audrey asked, yawning.
“I have to be fitted for my tuxedo. And then there’s some sort of ladies’ tea, followed by another dinner.”
“Do I have to go to the tea?” she asked. She looked wary.
I sighed and looked at her. “Evie asked my mother to include you,” I said. “But I’d be happy to say no if that’s what you’d prefer.”
She put her chin up. “I can handle them,” she said bravely. “I think.”
“I don’t care if you go,” I said, but I knew that my mother and Evie would be all over me about it if she didn’t. I think they wanted to inspect her more closely. Fortunately, Audrey had proven herself up to the challenge.
“It’s only for a few hours. They’ll just be talking about dresses. Or whatever it is Evie and her douchebag cousins talk about right before one of them gets married.”
“I think I can handle that. If not, I’ll just text you and make you come rescue me.” She laughed, and I poured her some more wine.
“Is there anything you need to do tomorrow?” I asked.
“I’d love to go see my brother in the morning,” she said, “if that doesn’t interfere with anything.”
“Of course. I’ll have Kai drive you. We’re going to Copley Plaza for the fitting, so I can walk.”
“Thank you. That’s really nice, James,” she said, suddenly sounding formal. She hopped down off her barstool. “I should probably get going to bed. Thank you for today, though. It was great. Those were amazing seats.”
She smiled at me and started heading toward her room, her sandals clicking awkwardly on the hardwood floors. Aside from that noise, the silence boomed around us.
“Audrey.”
She turned around and looked at me, biting her lip.
“Can you sleep with me tonight? No sex,” I said, holding up my hands. “I promised you—and even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t ask you like that. I just want you to stay with me.”
“Like a sleepover?” she asked, a little skeptically, but she looked pleased.
“Yes, like a sleepover. Just don’t try to put a mud mask on me or put warm water on my hand. That would piss me off,” I said.
“Let me change. Your room or mine?”
“Mine,” I said. “I have the best bed.”
“Of course you do,” she said.
She camein a few minutes later in those pink sweatpants again, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked so beautiful and innocent it made my heart actually hurt, and I wasn’t technically sure that I even had a heart.
“Hey,” she said and sat on the edge of my bed. “You’re still in your clothes.”
“I wasn’t sure what you were going to wear,” I admitted. “I wanted to show you some solidarity and dress similarly.” I got up and pulled out an old Wharton T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. “Is this okay?” I asked.
“It’s fine, James. I approve of the flannel.” She scooted up on the bed and grabbed the remote off the side table. She turned the flatscreen on and switched the channel to NESN, the New England Sports Network.
I was pretty sure that I still had a heart because it felt right then like I loved her, at least a little.
Later, after an hour of sports news, we turned out the lights.
“No sex?” she asked.
“That’s right,” I said. I paused. “Why are you asking?”
“I just don’t want this to be awkward. If we’re not doing it, let’s go to sleep.” She rolled over onto her side, toward me.
I rolled over toward her, too.
Eight hours later, I woke up holding her hand.
