Final Call (The Call #2) (2 page)

I strip and throw all
my clothes into the laundry hamper. My drawers are half empty, but
I find a pair of pajama pants and a tank.

This house feels huge
after a month of living in what were essentially apartments. And
kind of lonely too. Like someone should be walking around the
corner and knocking into me or sitting on the sofa, in the kitchen,
or in the bathroom. And only pulling one mug from the cupboard and
placing it under the coffee machine feels alien. So does not
hearing creaking floorboards just before it’s stolen from me.

I swallow and put the
mug down. Seven days, Dayton. One week. Time to get your shit
together.

I survived it once. I
can do it again—if only because I’ve done it before. Because I know
I can. Because I have to.

Because I’m stronger
than to let love be the death of me.

My cheeks sting as my
palms connect with them sharply. It’s cheek slapping or head
knocking, and the closest thing I have to hit myself with is a
saucepan. I’ll pass that one up, thanks.

A loud ding-dong echoes
through the door followed by the sound of it opening. Monique. Not
even Liv walks in. I turn around and brace myself for the first
conversation with her in days.

She stops in the
doorway, her waist accentuated by her tailored blazer, and runs her
eyes over me. “You look like fucking 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 fuck 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 fuck 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 fucking
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 fuck 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
fucking 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 fucking 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
fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking for work, I
was fucking 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.

I wriggle my toes
inside my shoes. I want to go home, change into some pajamas, and
eat ice cream. Even if my ass is feeling the numerous tubs over the
last week or so.

No,
I tell
myself. I’m not doing that anymore—being a whiny teenage girl over
something she couldn’t help. Something she couldn’t stop. I’m going
to be the strong, independent woman I am.

After all, a man can’t
make me, so there’s no reason to let him break me either.

Mental pep talk done, I
follow Liv into the bar and to our usual table by the window. It
provides the perfect spot for people-watching, something I’ve found
myself doing a lot since we went to Italy, and it gives Liv the
perfect view of the door just in case a hot guy should walk
through.

Our friendship is kind
of skewed, I’m realizing.

One bottle of wine
appears on the table in front of us. “A bottle? Big spender
tonight?” I tease her, grabbing it and pouring two glasses.

“Ha! As if.” She grins
and nods her head behind me. “Nope. The two guys in the suits
bought it for us.”

Of course. Only my best
friend could walk in somewhere and get the first drinks bought for
us.

I glance at her chest.
The girls are definitely out to play tonight. “I wonder why.”

Her smile widens. “Hey,
if they get us free drinks, are you going to complain?”

I want to remind her
that I can buy my own drinks, but even that reminds me of Aaron.
Fucking hell.
Is there anything that won’t?

“I have a job this
weekend.”

“Hmm? Where to?”

Liv chews on the inside
of her lip and hides behind her wine glass. “I didn’t want to tell
you before, but I took your advice. I went to the Stone
agency.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell
me? Regardless of the asshole level of the guy in charge, they’re
still an incredible agency. Are you signed with them?”

“Not yet. This weekend
is a kind of trial, too. If the pictures come back okay, they’ll be
drawing up a contract next week.”

“I’m happy for you.” I
grab her hand across the table. “Really, I am.”

Apparently even now my
best friend will remind me of him. Maybe I should move to
Australia.

“I thought it would be
kind of awkward.”

I force a laugh. “No.
What happened with us happened. One of those things.”

She arches a perfectly
shaped eyebrow. “Right. We can go with that.”

“I was planning on
doing so.” I sigh into my glass. “Can we stop talking about him
now, please? I’m done moping over him.”

Liv stands and grabs my
hand. “Let’s finish this then find somewhere we can go dance. And
with any luck, there’ll be some hot guys to look at.”

She has a one-track
mind.

***

“My feet hurt,” I
whine, sitting on a stool. I pull my shoe off and rub the ball of
my foot with my thumb. Two hours of nearly solid dancing has just
about killed me.

“Wine?”

“The drink or the
action?” I mumble. “If I can, both.”

Liv laughs and leans
over the bar. She gives her eyelashes a quick flutter, squeezes her
boobs together, and grabs the attention of the bar guy right away.
I’d roll my eyes if I weren’t so used to it.

Two glasses of wine
appear in front of us. I pull out the money, but a hand rests on my
forearm. “Let me get those for you,” a deep voice says into my
ear.

I turn to face the guy
offering with a polite smile. “Thank you, but no thank you. I owe
her a round.” I’m done having drinks bought for me.

“Really, let me get it
for you.”

“That’s very kind of
you, but no, thank you.” My voice firms toward the end. I don’t
give a crap if he’s good-looking and has that rugged thing going on
that melts panties. My panties aren’t melting, and I’m buying my
own drink.

He opens his mouth to
speak, but he’s interrupted by another voice. One that sends
shivers down my spine and stops my heart.

“You heard the lady.
She can buy her own drink”

Liv’s eyes widen, and
my throat goes dry. No. He’s not supposed to be here. America or
Seattle. No. No.

“And who are you?”

“I’m the owner.”

Liv’s eyes are as wide
as saucers, but I’m not even surprised. Am I surprised he’s here?
Yes. That he owns the place? No. I know nothing about his business.
Not really.

More words are
exchanged behind me, words I can’t make out through the spinning
inside my body. Every part of me is on edge, and my stomach is
clenched with apprehension. I can’t breathe.

I grab Liv’s arm and
shake my head. I can’t stay here—not with him. She understands,
grabbing my hand and leading me toward the door. I step out into
the night air and take a deep breath, leaning against the wall, but
the eyes I look into aren’t the blue-green ones of my best
friend.

They’re the
electric-blue ones of the man who owns me so entirely.

“What the fuck are you
doing here?”

“I own this place with
my uncle. He saw you were here and called me.”

“Not that it has
anything to do with you.” I straighten. “Where’s Liv?”

Aaron grabs my arm to
stop me going back inside and spins me into him. I look up at him
coldly, ignoring the way a fire sparks at his fingers wrapped
around my bicep and threads through my veins until my body is alive
and humming.

“I wanted to see if you
were okay. That’s all. Then that guy—”

“I can take care of
myself.” I snatch my arm back. “I’m more than capable of it, thank
you. I certainly don’t need saving from someone who has no right to
do so.”

“Is that what you
think?”

I step back. “That’s
what I know. You gave up every right to have anything to do with me
eleven days ago.”

“Twelve.”

“What?”

Aaron swallows, and I
see a flicker of regret in his eyes. “Twelve days. But who’s
counting?”

“Not me, evidently.” I
turn away, but his next words make me stop with my hand on the door
handle.