Escorting the Billionaire by Leigh James

Audrey

At the reception, I tried Jenny’s trick of thinking of it like a movie. If it was bad, she’d said, pretend you were watching it and that it was happening to someone else. If the movie took a turn for the worst and got really scary, just close your eyes, she said. Then it would be as if it never happened.

After James made love to me, and another powerful orgasm had wracked my body, I knew what I had to do. This is the part where the heroine tells the hero that she loves him, and they live happily ever after, I thought. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a movie. This was my life, and there wasn’t a happy ending in sight.

I closed my eyes tightly.

“I love you,” I whispered against James. “I just want you to know that.” He held me close as I shivered, pleasure mixed with misery pulsing through me.

“And James.” I wouldn’t look up. I kept my eyes closed, my face against his chest.

“What, baby?” he asked.

“I quit.”

I ran away after that, as quickly as I could, back to my apartment. But even though I was miles away from him now, I could still feel his hands on me. I could still imagine the feel of my face against his chest.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep the pain that encircled me at bay. I sat at my window and stared out. The morning broke, hazy and humid. The sun rose up over the sky, and still, I didn’t move. I thought I saw a limousine crawling down my street, but I might have imagined it. Limousines did not frequent my neighborhood.

In any event, I knew it wasn’t James. He was probably on the plane by now, on his way to the Bahamas. And I was here, in my run-down Southie apartment, where I would always be.

Because I knew now what I’d known last night. This was where I belonged. I didn’t belong to better. Between my mother and his, the opposition was too intense. The chasm between us too wide.

Because I loved him, I had to protect him.

From me.