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CHAPTER 3

Author: Ivan
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

Fortunately for me, I had more than enough confidence. At least Christy Lopez did.

Seattle Hotel. 8pm to meet, function at 8:30. Money on arrival. Receptionist Ruth is expecting you.

I nodded once and threw my cell back on my bed to get ready. I knew the Seattle Hotel well. I’d been there several times before as a paid date. The functions were held in the largest room, and you had to be somebody to get in there. It was one of the most exclusive hotels in the city.

I fixed my dark hair to the side, letting curls fall over my shoulder, and slipped my feet into some black heels. Diamond earrings glitter in my lobes, and after a coat of lipstick, I tucked it into my purse.

I climbed into the waiting cab and stretched out my legs. A lick of nervousness flared inside me. Not knowing the client’s name before a date was always unnerving—especially when they were a last-minute hire. Usually I had time to research them, even if it was only basic details. The night, I had only thirty minutes to know everything about my client and the company he was taking over.

That alone was worth my rate and a half.

I paid the driver and stepped into the Seattle evening. The hotel was right on Elliot Bay, and the gentle breeze from the water wrapped around me, bathing me in comfort. I paused in my steps to glance at the boats lined up, remembering a time when my father’s bobbed along there.

I shook my head. There was no time to be Gina tonight. If I was being paid, I was Christy. Gina had no place in this high-class world of deception and pleasure. She was too pajamas-and-ice-cream for this shit.

The doorman opened the door for me. My heels clicked on the marble floor as I approached the reception desk.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist looked up, and I glanced at her nametag. Ruth. Perfect.

“Yes. I’m here for the function this evening.”

“It’s on the second floor, ma’am. The South ballroom.”

I placed my hands on the counter, twenty dollars poking out from beneath my pinky finger. Her eyes found it.

“I’m here for the function.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Excuse me, Ms. Christy.” She picked up the phone. “Ms. Christy has arrived. Please take her to the reserved private booth in the bar.”

Two seconds later, a boy no older than nineteen stepped next to me. “If you’d follow me, Ms. Christy.”

“Thank you, Ruth.” I shook her hand, mine coming away empty, and followed the young boy.

Money gets you everywhere in this world, and for me, it was almost like my calling card. I showed you green, you know who I am and why I’m there. I showed you green, you shut the fuck up and be discreet.

“Ms. Christy.” He pulled a curtain to the side slightly.

“Thank you.” I passed him a ten as he left and turned into the booth.

I pulled the curtains shut behind me, and just like that, Christy gave way to Gina, because I looked into a pair of eyes I hadn’t seen for seven years. Disbelief and shock ricochet through my body.

It can’t be. It’s not possible.

But my gaze followed the shapely, stubbled jaw and pink lips of the man I fell in love with one beautiful summer in Paris seven years ago. Before everything went wrong.

“George?”

My body joltes as if it had been struck by lightning when his eyes rose from his hands resting on the table and connected with mine. I could barely breathe, and through the skipping of my heart, I was consumed with a longing I hadn’t felt in years.

His blue eyes slowly traced every part of my face, his own disbelief as evident as mine must be. Finally, they came to rest on mine, and he stood slowly.

“Gina?”

“What…” I placed a hand to my chest. “You’re my client?”

George motioned for me to sit, lowering himself down when I did so. “You’re my date? I hired a Christy Lopez?”

“Christy is my working name,” I said quietly. “Being an escort is a double life.”

“I can’t believe this.” He pushed a button and a waiter appeared. “A bottle of Pinot Gris. Two glasses,” he ordered, the guy disappearing quickly. Neither of us spoke again until he returned and placed the tray on the table.

My heart pounded as George poured two glasses. In the five years I had done this, since escorting became my life, I’d never had a client I knew. I’d never had to worry about anything other than getting the job done. Now, sitting in front of George Stone, I knew this job was anything but simple.

I drained my glass as a brown envelope appeared on the table. Taking it silently and slipping it into my purse was the single most awkward moment of my life. George poured me another glass.

“Thank you.”

“This was unexpected.”

“Ya think?” I raised an eyebrow. “I can’t say I’m in the habit of having a previous personal relationship with my clients at all.”

And what a relationship we had. Six weeks filled with fun, kisses, and endless passion in the city of love.

“I’d imagine not.” He paused, dropping his eyes to the table before bringing them back to mine. “Can I ask why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you do this?”

“That’s a bit personal.”

“Gina, I’ve seen every inch of your body. Don’t fuck around and tell me it’s too personal.”

“You’re my client, don't forget that” I reminded him, sitting up straight. “Our past is irrelevant here. You’re paying me to do a job, and I’m going to do it. No personal details. Tell me what I need to know so I don’t look like a complete idiot when I’m out there tonight.”

He clenched his jaw and reached up to adjust his tie. “Dad has decided to step back from the company, and this is one of many events designed to introduce me to the people I’ll be working with when I take over in just under two months.”

“The modeling agency?”

“We branched into advertising and rebranded the summer after Paris. It went global three years ago, and now there are offices in Australia and Europe as well as here.”

“Impressive. And you needed a date because?”

“Because if I turned up alone, the vultures would get me.”

My lips twisted. “The vultures? Hahaha ha.”

“The daughters of my mother’s friends. They’re single.”

“And you’re the perfect target. Nice to know I’m hired to be a buffer.”

“I’m sure Christy Lopez is used to it, yeah.”

“Oh, she is. But we both know there’s not a chance in hell I’ll get away with being Christy tonight.”

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