The Escort (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

1: In Which She's Blindsided

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and attempting to tug him out of the crowded entertainment lounge. It was like pulling a boulder. “Could we go somewhere private?”

“Sure. Whatever.” He allowed himself to be dragged behind me.

Mentally cursing to myself, I led him to the study, slamming the door shut behind us.

“Victor doesn’t own a bike,” were the first words out my mouth.

“No, he was hit by a bike. Poor cunt.”

I stiffened at the word. “Who are you again?”

“Ash.”

“Ash,” I repeated monotonously. “The agency sent me a guy called Ash.”

He reached into the pocket of his suit. “Want one? You look like you could use one.” He proceeded to light a cigarette.

“You can’t smoke in here!”

He glanced around the cluttered room. “I don’t see a no-smoking sign. Could it perhaps be written in invisible ink?”

I glared at him, all the while thinking about my best moves out of this situation. Ash or whatever-his-name leaned against one wall, languidly regarding me and puffing on his cigarette. With Victor out of commission for god-knows-how-long, I was stuck in a jam. All my family and friends were under the impression that Vic was my dependable, interesting-looking boyfriend. He was always present at work gatherings, family get-togethers and even funerals.

And now he’d gone and gotten himself hit by a motorcycle.

Why was he walking? With the money I fork out, he should be loaded!

Someone at the agency obviously thought I was desperate enough to accept a guy called Ash. And now that I looked at him, I could see that they really thought I’d be grateful. With midnight-black hair unkempt and on the long side, an errant five-o’clock shadow and were those tattoos creeping up his neck?

“What the hell is that?” I asked, ignoring politeness and pointing an index finger at his neck.

He reached up and stroked his nape. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” I spat, approaching him to get a closer look. I peered up at the inked skin. “A scorpion. A fucking scorpion?” I shook my head at how I was turning into a cursing truck driver.

“I’m a Scorpio. Don’t believe in that shit but I got it done anyway.”

“Were they high?” I said, more to myself. “Why you? No one’s going to believe I’d be dating someone like you!”

He chuckled, his glittering green eyes veiled with menace. “Right backatcha.”