Escorting the Billionaire by Leigh James
Audrey
“Audrey,” James called.
“Huh?” I asked. There was soap in my ears. I was using his Argan oil body wash on every available surface of my body. It smelled like him and literally made my mouth water.
“I have to run out.” I thought that’s what he said, anyway.
Maybe I shouldn’t have used so much in my ears. “Okay,” I responded.
“Okay,” he called. “I’ll be back in an hour. Have some coffee.”
“Okay,” I said. I wanted to add babe. Or honey. Or I love you, please don’t leave me. But common sense told me that would be very stupid, so I just kept rinsing.
“Audrey.” He opened the shower door a little and I was careful not to splash him. “Did you hear me? I wish I could come in there, but I have to run out. I’ll be back soon.” He leaned in and gave me a quick, hot kiss that melted my insides. His hair got sprayed with water, and he gave me a devilish smile, closing the door behind him and leaving me.
Thinking about that smile, and what he’d done to me earlier that morning with his mouth, made me pant. Which made me get water from the shower in my mouth. Which made me cough.
Which was the only thing that made me glad he was gone. I hacked and spluttered, getting out of the shower and wrapping an enormous, incredibly soft towel around myself. I dried my hair, combing it out carefully as I went. Then I searched for my phone in James’s room, but he must have stuck it somewhere. I’d just ask him when he got back. I grabbed the Wharton T-shirt he’d been wearing yesterday off the floor and put it on, inhaling the smell of him. Then I padded out to the kitchen, in search of coffee, wishing that I lived here with him and that this was my real life.
My real life. I’d never met my father. My mother told me that he was her boyfriend, and that he’d stuck around at first after Tommy was born. Then she’d gotten pregnant with me, and then he was gone. I always hoped he’d come back but he never did… and he never sent a child support check. He was probably not a great guy.
But when I was a girl, I’d pretended that he was a king. That he’d sent Tommy and me to live with my mother to hide us, because we were important, and he was protecting us. In my fantasy, he came back—and I discovered that I’d been a princess all along. He took us to live the lives we were always supposed to have: our real lives, which were orderly and beautiful and perfect.
I looked out across the sunny kitchen. James’s apartment was sparkling and immaculate. It was orderly and beautiful and perfect. James was perfect. This was that royal life I’d always imagined and was never meant to have.
Yes, it was true that I loved James. I did. There was nothing I could do about that now.
But it was now truer than ever that I had to protect my heart.
“You made breakfast?” he asked an hour later. He threw some things on the counter and swept me into his arms. He was so much bigger than me, I felt protected with him wrapped around me. “That was nice of you.”
He kissed me deeply, and I got shaky from it. The raw energy between us was almost overwhelming. I ran my hands down his chest, feeling the muscles underneath his shirt. It should be criminal to be so gorgeous, with all those muscles and that wavy, steel-colored hair; it wasn’t fair. He ran his hands down me, too, kissing me hungrily.
“You make me crazy.” He rested his forehead against mine and held me close. I could feel his erection spring up against me. “I can’t control myself when you touch me.”
“You touched me, boss,” I said. “I was just standing here making French toast.”
“French toast?” He pulled back and looked at the stove hopefully. “That’s my favorite.”
“I know.”
He looked at me, a curious smile on his face. “How did you know?”
“You ordered it at brunch. And you ate it in about two seconds.”
“So you’ve been paying attention,” he said, impressed.
“I’m just trying to earn my keep,” I said. I kissed him on the cheek and smiled, vowing to keep all the wild thoughts and emotions going on inside of me at bay.
“Oh, you’ve earned it,” he said, his eyes flashing at me and that devilish grin coming back. “And then some. You’re absolutely my most valuable employee.”
“Ha,” I said, blushing with a mixture of pleasure and disappointment. I didn’t want to be his employee. I wanted to be his girlfriend. I was, however, pleased that I was pleasing him. I plated some French toast and set it on the island. I poured him coffee, black, like he liked it, and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. I also set out some blackberries and strawberries. I looked at the spread, impressed. Expensive clothes looked better. Expensive food did, too.
He sat down and looked at the meal before him. “This is lovely,” he said. “Thank you, Audrey.”
“It’s my pleasure. I like taking care of you,” I said and blushed a little more.
There was an expression I couldn’t read on his face. “I like it, too.”
I sat down next to him and he intermittently rubbed my back while he ate. “Do you want some more coffee?” He nodded, and I grabbed his mug. I spied his cell phone and wallet on the table as I headed toward his fancy coffee machine. “Hey, is that my phone?” I asked. It was with his things. I grabbed it and flipped it on.
“Yep,” he said. He gave no explanation as to why he’d had it.
There was a text message from Reina at the center. I read it and kept my back to him while I made his dark roast, feeling a cold rage descend on me. My mother had stolen from Tommy. I made myself push that fact to the side for now: I would deal with her later, when I could.
“Did you take my phone for some reason?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you read this? The message about my mother?” I asked. I held my phone up, but I didn’t turn around to face him.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to tell me why?” I was angry not only about the message itself, but also the fact that he’d read it before me. The fact that he’d read it at all.
“Come here.” I went to him, bringing his coffee and my phone. My guard was way up, on high alert. A man looking at your phone only meant one thing—he’d been snooping. I put the coffee down, and he pulled me onto his lap. I sat there stiffly. “Don’t be mad at me, Audrey.”
“Why did you have my phone?”
“It beeped when you were in the shower.”
“You told me that. When I was in the shower.”
“It beeped again.” He wrapped his arms more tightly around me.
“So?” I asked. I had nothing to hide from him except for my fucked-up family. Still, he shouldn’t go through my things.
“So I read your text message. I’m sorry.”
“I wish you hadn’t,” I said, pulling back to look at him. “Just like I didn’t want you to come in my mother’s apartment last night. Some things just aren’t your business. There’s some things I don’t want you to see. You have to let me decide what to share with you. That’s called having boundaries.”
His blue eyes burned into mine. “What if I want it to be my business?” He didn’t sound sorry. He was challenging me.
“James. Tell me first why you read my text.” I wanted to hear the truth from him.
He rubbed his face. “I wanted to know who it was from,” he said, looking away. “I wondered if you had a boyfriend you weren’t telling me about.”
I laughed. “You think I have a boyfriend?”
He looked at me then, a mixture of jealousy, embarrassment, and defiance clear on his face. “Do you?”
Boyfriends were on my list of outside interests, of which I had none. “No,” I said. “There’s no one.” There’s only you. “I’m not sure why you care, though.”
“I already told you last night. I care.” He wrapped his arms around me a little tighter. He didn’t say anything else, and I felt both angry at him and a little sorry for him. I was an escort. Having a boyfriend should seriously be the least of his worries about me, on a very long list.
“I’m sorry, Audrey.”
It sounded as if he meant it, and I forgave him instantly. “It’s okay,” I said. I leaned down and kissed him tenderly. I ran my hands through his thick hair before I pulled back. “I’m telling you the truth, though. You have to trust me—and I have to know that I can trust you to do that. If you want to know something, ask. Don’t go behind my back.”
“I do trust you—I was being juvenile. And insecure.” He looked so baffled by that I almost laughed. “It was a dick move. I won’t go behind your back again.”
I nodded and then held up my phone miserably. “I still have to deal with what my mother did.”
“I already dealt with it.”
“Huh?”
His eyes searched my face. “Before. When you were in the shower. Before I promised not to go behind your back again,” he said, sheepish.
“I read the message, and then I had Kai take me to your brother’s place. I handled it, Audrey. You don’t have to worry. Although you do have to sign some paperwork from New Horizons that removes your mother from the account.” He gently moved me off of him and grabbed some papers. “You should do it now. We can scan them and email them in. They’re under strict instructions not to release any more funds for any purpose.”
He held the papers out for me, but I couldn’t take them. I just stood there, shocked, not understanding. “What did you do?”
He looked me in the eye. “Your mother had withdrawn all the money you’d deposited for your brother. I went there and took care of it. And then I went to see your mother.”
“You did what?” I felt relieved, angry, and ashamed all at once. I couldn’t picture James in my mother’s filthy apartment, her walls yellowed with nicotine. I didn’t want to picture it. I covered my face with my hands, as if that could block the image out.
“Audrey. Your brother is taken care of. That’s the most important thing.” He came toward me and gently took my hands from my face.
“How did you know where he was?”
“Kai.”
I nodded numbly.
“And then I had him bring me to your mother’s apartment, because I wanted to make this okay for you. I spoke with her and gave her some money just to tide her over for now. You need a break. You’ve been dealing with this alone for a long time. I wanted to help.”
“You can’t help me,” I said. I sat down shakily on the couch. Tears sprung to my eyes. It was too much. I couldn’t have him in my life like that—especially when I was only going to know him for another week. I had to handle my problems on my own. I couldn’t get used to relying on somebody else. That was only going to lead to big trouble.
“I’m like a cowboy,” I said, wiping my tears away roughly. “I can’t have help. It makes me weak. Do you understand?”
He looked surprised and confused. “A cowboy? No. I don’t get it.” He sank down next to me and took my hands in his. “Please explain what you mean.”
I sniffled. “I read somewhere that good cowboys sleep on the floor when they come home after a long trip. They do it so they don’t get used to sleeping in a bed again. That way, when they go back out to herd, it’s not that bad—they’re still used to being uncomfortable.”
“So… you’re the cowboy,” he said. “And I’m the bed.”
“That’s right, James,” I said. “I’m the cowboy, and you’re the bed. I have to sleep on the floor—I can’t get soft. I can’t have you taking care of my problems and making everything all comfortable and squishy. Because after next week, I’m back out there, sleeping on the hard ground. And if you’re too nice to me, it’s just gonna hurt that much worse.”
“You need to stay rugged,” James said, playing along. “You don’t want you to throw your back out or worse, lose your edge.”
“Right?” I said, sniffling again. “No one wants that.”
“No one wants that.” He paused for a second, watching my face. “So maybe you shouldn’t go back out there.” He pulled me into his arms and held me close, kissing the top of my head. “Maybe you should just stay.”
