Escorting the Player (The Escort Collection Book 3) (5 page)

A
VERY

I stayed in my room the entire next day, venturing out only for a run to the kitchen for ibuprofen, water, and coffee—I still couldn't look at food. And I was petrified to face Chase. Elena called me on the loaner phone she'd packed. "Nice work, Avery. I'm loving these pictures of you and Chase out on the town. You guys look like you had a good time."

"We did." I swallowed hard. I'd taken the ibuprofen, but nothing had stopped the pounding in my head. I vowed to never touch hard alcohol again.

"How's he treating you?" the madam asked.

I forced myself to sit up and winced at how my whole body hurt. "He's very…nice. His agent wanted us to go out so we could be photographed. It seemed to go well."

"So, is this going to work out? I don't normally call my girls when they're on assignment, but this is a very special client. I wanted to be sure that you're comfortable, but also that you're confident Mr. Layne is satisfied with the service."

"Everything's going great." I felt a pit of dread form in my stomach.
Chase and I had sex last night, and he practically ran, screaming, out of my room this morning. I'm afraid to see him.
"Thank you so much for giving me this job, Elena. I'll never be able to say that enough."

I won't live long enough to say thank you appropriately—I'll probably die from embarrassment first. As soon as I face him again.

Elena clucked her tongue in approval. "I'm thrilled it's working out. Please get in touch if you need anything. I'll keep watching you online. I'm very pleased, Avery. Keep up the good work."

I plastered a smile onto my face even though she couldn't see me. "Thank you. I will. I promise."

I hung up and lay there, miserable and confused.

There was a knock on the door. I perked up, hoping it was Chase.

"Avery?" Eric called.

Even though I liked the agent, my face fell. "Um…yeah?"

"Do you want some food?"

"God no," I said.

"Let me know if that changes. Listen, first thing tomorrow, we're meeting a broker to shop for condos in the Leather District. Photo opportunity," he called, sounding so chipper that I sunk back underneath my covers, away from the harsh brightness of his voice. "Just relax. I'll get you some ginger ale—so you don't puke like I just did."

I groaned. Eric was a seasoned professional in more ways than one. I had no idea how Chase was faring today—with his hangover or his guilt. Sighing, I got up and trudged to the shower. Even if I didn't feel good, I had to look good.

Just in case I had to face him.

C
HASE

"I don't want to go real estate shopping, for fuck's sake," I said. I was holding a protein shake so tightly in my hands I almost crushed it.

"We're not going until tomorrow. Relax."

"I can't relax," I grunted. "I'm hungover, Eric. Really fucking hungover."

"So am I," Eric said, but his complexion looked too healthy for that to be true.

"Why don't you look as bad as I feel?" I asked suspiciously.

"Because I took painkillers last night. And I threw up this morning," Eric said smugly.

"Lucky." I sat down and winced. My muscles were sore from lifting, and my head was killing me.

"How about you?" Eric asked suspiciously. "You sleep okay?"

I had no intention of telling him that I'd slept with Avery. It had been a mistake—one that was never going to happen again—and it was none of his business. "If you call passing out sleeping, I guess so."

I yawned and felt Eric studying me. "What?" I snapped.

"Nothing." He shrugged. "Do you want to discuss the table dancing? Or the body shot? Or…anything else?"

I scrubbed my hands over my face. "There's nothing to discuss."

My agent smiled at me. "If you say so."

I headed to my room to take a shower. "You're seriously in too good of a mood to be around when I'm this hung. Ugh. Stay away from me."

"My pleasure," he called.

I grunted again and then headed down the hallway. Avery popped out of her room, her hair soaking wet. She took one look at me, yelped, and jumped back inside her room, slamming the door.

I couldn't help it. Nasty headache aside, I laughed. And then knocked on her door. "Avery."

"Mm-hmm?" she answered, trying to sound casual from inside her room.

"Do you need something?"

"No," she said immediately, and I knew it was a lie.

"Why'd you come out here, then?" I wanted to help her, but more than that, I wanted to see her. I needed to know that she was okay.

She opened the door a crack and miserably peered out at me. "I just wanted another towel. I thought I had more in here, but I don't." She looked as if she were about to cry.

"I'll get you one," I said. "It'll just take a sec."

I hustled down to the linen closet and pulled out a stack of towels for her. Poor thing. She was in her room like a prisoner because I couldn't keep my dick out of her last night. I had to make this right.

She opened the door a little for me, and my heart melted when I saw her. Her long hair was wet, soaking her T-shirt, and she looked innocent, sexy, and beautiful without her makeup on. "Hey," I said. "I'll put these in the bathroom for you."

"You don't have to. I'll take them," she said, and it sounded as if she were struggling to keep her voice even.

I looked at her and sighed. "Can I…talk to you?"

She nodded, and even though she crossed her arms against her chest, she stepped aside so I could come in. Eric had put her in the guest suite, so she had her own sitting area, laundry, and a full bathroom. I set the towels down and took a quick scan of the room. The sheets were stripped from the bed, and I could hear the washer running. "About last night—" I started.

Avery shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I don't
ever
drink that much. And I've
never
had shots like that before. I don't know what got into me," she babbled, motioning to me. "I mean…I
know
what got into me—but I don't know
how
it got in there. I mean, I do. I mean, I don't. Oh God, please make me stop talking!" She cringed and put her face in her hands.

"It's okay," I said. I wanted to pull her into my arms and make her feel better, but I knew it would only make it worse. And for some strange reason—maybe being back in her room or the fact that she clearly had no bra on underneath that damp T-shirt—my dick was getting hard again.
Traitor.
Jesus Christ, I needed to get control of that thing.

"Listen. Avery." I reached out and squeezed her hands, which was as much contact as I could allow myself. "Last night is on
me
. I'm the one who took you drinking and convinced you to do those shots. I'm the one who asked you to dance and then started manhandling you. I'm really sorry."

She looked up at me. "You don't need to be sorry. You hired me as your date. You were doing what you were supposed to."

"And so were you," I said, trying to soothe her. "But I won't ask you to do that again. At least…not the last batch of stuff we did."

"Oh." She looked stricken. "Okay."

I squeezed her hands again, trying to reassure her. "Not because you did anything wrong or that I didn't like last night—of
course
I did."

A hot blush started to creep up her cheeks. "I asked you to come here to pretend to be my girlfriend in the public eye," I explained gently. "I didn't ask you to come here so I could take advantage of you."

Her face was a miserable shade of red. "But you didn't take advantage of me. I wanted to do…that last batch of stuff with you. I didn't do it because I thought I had to. Even though I
am
a hooker." Her chin wobbled almost imperceptibly.

"Don't cry," I said. "Fuck."

"I'm not." Her voice sounded thick with unshed tears.

"I guess I'm making this worse." I sighed. "Listen. I want you to be here, and I wanted to be with you last night. But I don't want you to think that you're going to have to…
service
me like that for the rest of the time you're here. Because that's not who I am. Last night was a one-off."

"Got it." Her voice sounded neutral now, as if she'd wrangled it back under control. She dropped her hands from mine and grabbed a towel. "We're going out tomorrow, right?"

"Right." I searched her face. The blush was fading, and the chin wobble was no longer detectable.

She stopped on her way to the bathroom and turned back. "I don't have to go with you, you know. If you need some space."

"No—I want you to come," I said. "We're shopping for our new condo together, remember?" I grinned at her, trying to lighten the mood. "You sort of need to be there."

She plastered what was clearly a fake smile to her face and nodded. "Of course."

Avery disappeared behind the door, and I was left there, feeling as though I'd messed something important up very, very badly.

A playbook is what I need.
A playbook for women.

They were definitely trickier than football.

A
VERY

The next morning I went through my clothes, selecting them carefully. Elena had packed some white jeans and a fitted, patterned coral tank top for me. I tried the outfit on and looked at my reflection in the mirror, pulling my hair over one shoulder.

I couldn't imagine having a closet filled with clothes like these. For being so hungover so recently, I looked much better than I should. Pretty even.

But still not good enough for Chase Layne.

I understood his position. He didn't want to take advantage of me, and a guy like Chase didn't have to pay for sex. I respected the fact that he didn't want me to…service him again. He was above that sort of conduct, and I admired him for it.

I blew out a sigh and regarded my eyes in the mirror. I was not going to let what happened between us send me into a spiral of self-hate. I was working as an escort because I needed the money. I'd had all sorts of honest jobs, and I hadn't been able to come close to getting ahead. I wasn't going to torture myself for wanting that.

Plus, I'd had
fun
with him. I couldn't remember the last time I'd relaxed and had fun. Maybe never.

And I'd loved the sex. I'd
definitely
never loved sex before.

But the fact was, it wasn't going to be like that with me and Chase. We were strictly for show.

You're only pretending to be in his league,
I reminded myself.

So I was going to wear the nice clothes Elena had sent me, hold his hand and smile in public, and keep all of my other body parts to myself…even though they wanted him. Bad.

And if the thing that hurt the worst was my heart, there was no way in hell I was ever going to show it.

B
efore I went
out to meet them, my phone buzzed. It wasn't Elena's number this time.

My stomach dropped. That meant it had to be my sister.

"Lila?" I answered the phone, almost in a whisper.

"Is that you, Avery?" she practically screeched. "Are you
Chase Layne's
girlfriend now? Holy fucking
fuck
!"

"Wh-why are you calling me?" I asked. "I told you to only use this number if it's an emergency—"

"Because my baby sister's on the news!" she interrupted me, sounding much too excited. "I saw your pictures at the restaurant and at that club and I
had
to check in. So, how are you? More importantly, how the hell did you end up moving in with Chase Layne and being his insta-girlfriend? What is
up
, seriously?"

"I'm fine." But now that she'd called me, I was anything but. Lila never just 'checked in'. She found me when she needed something, which was usually in the form of some sort of bailout.

"So…are you actually, suddenly and out-of-the-blue,
dating
Chase Layne? Or is this one of your jobs?" she asked.

I bristled, not wanting to hear her say it out loud. I wished I'd never confided in my sister about AccommoDating. "It's none of your business, is what it is," I said stiffly.

"I just think it's funny—not funny ha-ha, but funny coincidental—that you finally managed to get ahead on our rent, say you're heading out of town, and the next day, I see you in the news with the Warriors quarterback. And you look as if you're madly in love with him!"

"He's really nice," I offered lamely.

She snorted. "The money, plus the fact that you never mentioned this guy before makes me…suspicious. That this isn't the real thing, you know?"

She was fishing. There was the bait, but I wasn't going to take it. I said nothing. I was too busy counting backward from one hundred so I didn't jump through the phone and throttle her.

"C'mon. You don't have to be shy with your own sister…"

"Do you want something, Lila?" I asked flatly. It wasn't really a question. Of course she wanted something.

"Well, he's a multi-millionaire. And if he's paying you enough to cover our rent, I was hoping there was something extra," she said innocently. "You know—so I don't starve."

"You could always get your own paycheck to ward off starvation," I offered.

"You don't have to be so high and mighty." Whenever I recommended that she work for a living, I was being
high and mighty
. "It's not as if you have a lot of room to feel superior to me."

I said nothing.
Let her starve.

"Are you really going to be mean to me like this?" she asked, her voice a whine. "There's seriously nothing to eat."

"Fine," I mumbled in defeat. I didn't want to keep supporting my sister and her bad habits, but I couldn't say no to her. She always made me feel so guilty. I also didn't want her interfering with my life right now.

"Great." Her tone turned instantly brighter. "Can you do it sooner rather than later, though? Like today?"

I could feel a Lila headache coming on, which was actually worse than the vodka one I'd had yesterday. My sister seemed hell-bent on draining me financially and emotionally. "There's a safe in the kitchen, in the cabinet next to the microwave," I said. "Go get it. I'll give you the combination." There was a muffled pause as I heard her moving through our tiny apartment, locating the safe. I gave her the combination and I heard her sharp intake of breath as she counted the money inside.

"Shit," Lila said. "You've got two thousand dollars in here. You've been
hiding
this from me?"

"Not hiding," I said.
Protecting.
I'd put the money in there after Elena gave me the advance, just in case Lila came sniffing around, looking for a handout. "It's an emergency fund. It's all we've got."

Lila snorted, and I could picture her pocketing the bills. "I betcha Chase Layne's got a lot more than this," she said. "But it'll do. For now." She would probably go out and buy weed, then buy herself an expensive new outfit and get her hair and nails done. She was beautiful, but she was vain, and she'd always had a taste for the finer things in life. Champagne taste on a
Boone's Farm
budget, just like my mother.

"Thanks, Ave. You always come through. See ya around," she said.

"Lila. Wait." I clenched my fist, not wanting to have to ask her for a favor, but not having a choice. "You can't mention this to anyone."

She laughed. "It's all over the Internet. It's not like you two are hiding it."

"Do we have an Internet connection, all of a sudden?" I asked.

Lila cleared her throat. "No, but my dealer does. He's the one who showed it to me. He recognized you."

My stomach fell. "Great. That's just perfect." My sister and her dealer were a little too close for both my comfort and her health. Once I got paid, I was moving her across town and away from him. "But listen—you can't tell anyone I'm your sister. Or about the escort service. You can't talk to
anyone
about this—not even your dealer. Not another word. I mean it." I could hear the pleading tone in my own voice.

She paused for a beat, probably calculating her options and how much they could earn her. "Why not?"

"Because it's a secret." I swallowed hard.
Fucking Lila.
I'd sacrificed so much to keep a roof over her head, and still, I couldn't trust her. There was only one person that Lila loved, and it wasn't me.

It was herself.

"If you do," I said, trying to stay calm, "I'll lose my job. I won't get paid. On top of that, I signed a confidentiality agreement. If that gets breached—by me or by you—they'll come after us for damages."

"Good luck collecting," she said.

"Still, it could ruin us." I desperately searched my brain for something that she cared about, something that I could lord over her. "This is a big deal. Chase Layne is a big deal. If we hurt him, we'll become local pariahs. It could get us banned from
everything
—shops, restaurants. Bars, even," I babbled. "Your dealer might even drop you." I crossed my fingers that the threat of any one of these things might be enough to convince my sister to keep her mouth shut.

"You really think I'm that dumb, Ave?" she asked, then paused for a beat. "Wait—are
you
actually that dumb? That I would believe…"

"Just stop it," I hissed at her. "The point is, if you mess this up for me, we lose. That I work for the agency and that Chase's people hired me has to stay confidential. If I finish the job, I'll get paid. A lot." I winced. This was going to come back and bite me later. I knew it.

"How much?" she asked.

"More than we have," I said.

"We don't have anything," she sniffed. "But listen. I'll make you a deal."

I groaned. She was always making deals. "What?"

"You get me enough money for some nice new clothes and a pocketbook—a nice one, not like that plastic thing I have from TJ Maxx—and pay for me to get my nails done, and my hair colored, and stuff like that, and I'll
think
about it.
Plus
the money you were hiding from me. Okay? Sound fair?"

"No, it doesn't sound fair," I said. I was turning fucking
tricks
to keep my sister off the streets, and she wanted a
pocketbook?

I knew her. As if she was a child, she wanted the new and the shiny, and she wanted it
now
.

And if I didn't give it to her, she was going to throw a massive temper tantrum.

"Okay," I said, hating both myself and her. "Take that money for now. I'll send you more when I can."

"That's my baby sister coming to her senses," Lila cooed. "I'll be in touch. Soon. I have a feeling this assignment's gonna work out great for both of us. Chase Layne's a fucking
goldmine
. Things are finally looking up. The sky's the limit now, Ave. I know it."

"Don't use this number again," I warned, my voice hoarse.

"Whatever." She hung up before I could try to reason with her.

I put the phone down and hung my head.
Lila doesn't want a pocketbook from TJ Maxx. Lila wants a nicer one. Lila wants a manicure. Lila wants, wants, wants…

After a minute I sat up and pulled myself together. What
I
wanted right now was to pretend my sister didn't exist. The fact that she'd learned about my assignment didn't bode well for me. Or for Chase, for that matter, and his large piles of money…

I winced. He didn't deserve to be infected by my problems, by my poverty…by my sister. He was an innocent bystander who also happened to be the key to me never having to hook again. I vowed, right then and there, to keep him safe.

I just had to figure out how.