She stops in the doorway, her waist accentuated by her tailored blazer, and runs her eyes over me. “You look like f**king shit.”
“Nice to see you, too, Monique. So kind of you to drop by without calling.”
“Leigh called. You think I was gonna let you run away before I could talk to you?”
“A chance would have been nice.” I smile tightly and perch on a stool at the breakfast bar. “What do you want?”
“Any coffee left in there?” She nods to the machine and pours one before I can answer. Typical Monique. Why wait for an answer when you can just find out yourself?
I roll my eyes as she sits down and sips casually at her coffee. Fuck her and her games.
“What do you want, Monique? You’re not my favorite person right now if you hadn’t guessed.”
She sighs heavily and sets the mug down. “I came to apologize.”
“Does Darren need a new car again?”
“Not this time.” She smirks, but it drops quickly. “I should have told you before you left.”
“So why didn’t you?” I hold up a finger at the opening of her mouth. “And f**k your ‘client confidentiality’ bullshit. I’m not interested in that. The truth, Mon.”
Her tongue wets her lips, and she stares at me.
“Do I need to find a new agent? One who won’t keep important information from me?”
She laughs. “Well played, Dayton. We both know you won’t find another agent, but well played all the same. All right. You wanna know?”
“No, I’m asking for shits and giggles.”
“He paid extra if I didn’t tell you. That’s why the money was wired through me and not into your account.”
I get up and cross my kitchen. I grip the counter, facing away from her, and close my eyes. He wanted to keep it from me that badly that he paid her off? What the f**k is that?
He must have really thought I’d never find out.
“How much?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“How much?”
She sighs again. “Five grand.”
“Shit!” Five f**king grand for her not to tell me? I don’t believe it. I don’t believe him. I don’t believe her! “Why did you take it?” I turn, and she blinks harshly. Monique never loses her composure or acknowledges our emotions, so I know she can really see how pissed off I am.
“Money,” is all she says.
“And that’s more important than my wellbeing?”
“You f**k guys for a living, Dayton. I make sure they’re legit. That’s looking after your wellbeing.”
“And for big jobs, important clients, you’re supposed to make sure there are no f**king skeletons hiding in fancy-ass, designer-clothing-lined closets.”
“Everyone has skeletons, Dayton. Even you and I.”
“This is a skeleton I should have known about. I can’t forgive you for not telling me. Not yet.” I point to the door. “You know the way out.”
“You’re the only person I take this shit from, y’know?” She stands.
“Good. I would hope you don’t give the other girls the shit you give me.”
“Touché.” My agent inclines her head in my direction and makes for the door.
“Monique?”
She pauses at her name and looks over her shoulder.
“Call me when you have a job for me. But I’m not f**king anyone yet. Escorting only.”
“You’re coming back to work?”
My lips curve to one side. “Someone has to pay for your crap.”
“Just answer the f**king phone this time, all right?”
She leaves, and I lean back against the counter again.
Five grand to keep a secret.
I shouldn’t be surprised. He paid enough to keep me. It’s just a f**king shame it wasn’t quite enough to keep me there.
Money can keep something, but it can’t guarantee it. You’d think he’d know that. He has enough to throw around.
***
I need some control back in my life.
That’s my problem. Since Aaron came back into my life, it’s spiraled so crazily out of control that I can barely put my panties on the right way. Now, with the last few weeks all said and done, I can untangle them and get back to my life.
The way it should be. Focused. Controlled. Planned.
I ignore the niggling empty feeling in the pit of my stomach as I roll my stockings up my legs, the lace tops hiding just beneath the hem of my dress. Six knocks drift up the stairs to me in Liv’s signature knock. Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap. The sound is followed by her opening the door and yelling up at me.
It’s not my preferred method of control, admittedly, but when your best friend insists that a night out will cure your blues, you go along with it. Well, you do if your best friend is like mine.
It’s easier to do what she wants and save myself the headache.
Liv stops in the doorway and runs her blue-green eyes over my body. I pause, my fingers still looped under the lace on my thigh, and raise my eyebrows at her.
“That dress is too long.”
“Excuse me?”
She rolls her eyes like I’m a petulant toddler. “The dress. It’s too long.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my dress.” I smooth it over my legs. “Less is more, you know.”
“More material won’t get you laid, you know.”
I stand and grab my lipstick. “I’m not trying to get laid, Liv. I’m trying to get over him.”
“And getting under someone is the best way to get over someone else.”
“Did your mind get swapped with a teen boy at some stage of your life?”
She smacks her pink lips together and grins. “No. While you were f**king for work, I was f**king for fun. I learned more than a few things after I broke up with Ross.”
Ah, the boyfriend she only kept around for his finesse in the bedroom.
“I’m sure I’m aware of all the things you’ve learned.” My tone is dry, and I drop the lipstick into my makeup bag. “Look, I just want to relax tonight. No guys, no getting laid, nothing.”
“Fine. But you’re missing out.”
“I’m sure.” I grab my bag and follow her out to the waiting cab. Liv directs him to the wine bar where she works, our usual first stop, and settles back in the seat.
Night is falling as we head into the center of the city, and the bright lights from the skyline drown it out. A golden tone climbs into the inky blue, both colors fighting in the sky for their space. They collide in a gorgeous pinky-purple band that stretches out before me, providing an illuminating backdrop for the buildings that reach high up.