don’t say. All that matters is that you’re paid to entertain him. God, Sterling, this is what the training is for, to teach you how not to get involved in shit like this.”
“So, it’s okay for him to ask questions about my past and demand answers, but I can’t do the same?”
“He’s asking questions about your past?” she queried.
“Yes, and no matter what I say, he won’t stop.”
“Okay, every time he asks you a personal question, just find a way to occupy his brain in a different way.”
I let out a laugh. “If only that would work. He’s relentless.”
“You so like him.”
“I do like him.” I sighed.
“As long as liking him doesn’t turn into something more. He’s a client. It’s about the money. You have to remember that.”
“I don’t know if I can be that heartless.”
“You’re not being heartless. It’s business.”
“It doesn’t feel right.”
“That’s your programming talking. Take the money. You can afford to have principles later.”
“He wasn’t supposed to do this,” I murmured. “It was supposed to be six months of pampering and sex and laughing. Nothing like this. Nothing heavy. He went and changed the rules on me.”
“Babe, hate to break it to you, but you don’t even know what game you’re playing.”
There was a muffled sound on the other end of the line and Tiffany said, “Sterling? I gotta go.”
“But you haven’t told me about London yet,” I protested.
“Magical, beautiful, everything I could’ve hoped for.” She paused. “Listen, every time you forget why you’re there, or you find yourself thinking that you want to know more about him, remember the money. Remember the freedom it will buy you. Okay, that’s the last of my lecture. Cheerio, poppet.”
We hung up and I set my phone on the balcony table.
Lifting the coffee cup to my lips, I stared out across the endless horizon. It was tranquil here, a true haven. But this wasn’t my haven and deluding myself into thinking I was anything but a Rex girl was detrimental. Tiffany was right. Hadrian was a client—a client I liked and enjoyed, in and out of bed. But I refused to let it become more. We could be friendly, we could laugh and talk, exchange stories of our pasts, but I wouldn’t let it develop further.
“I wanted to tell you breakfast is ready,” Ingrid said, startling me into splashing lukewarm coffee all over the front of my sweater.
She came to my side and had the grace to look sheepish. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” I said, throwing her a genuine smile. “I didn’t hear you and the coffee wasn’t hot. Thank you for the food. That’s very thoughtful.”
“Change your sweater and then come to the kitchen to eat your breakfast. I don’t want it to get cold.”
Ingrid left the balcony before I could reply. It seemed she and Hadrian were cut from the same cloth. Both of them commanded and expected their orders to be obeyed.
I didn’t have the energy to protest. I changed my sweater and then headed to the kitchen. Ingrid was pouring a glass of orange juice when I entered.
“Sit.” She waved to a kitchen stool at the island and pushed the plate in front of me.
“This looks delicious.” I picked up my napkin and set it in my lap and then I reached for the fork and knife. I cut into the flaky biscuit doused in brown gravy and stuck a bite into my mouth.
I moaned in delight. “How is Hadrian not five hundred pounds? Your food is unbelievable!”
She smiled and preened at my compliment. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
Ingrid cleaned up the kitchen as I continued to demolish my food. I was quickly becoming a convert of hearty breakfasts.
“Hadrian has never brought a woman here, ever,” she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
I swallowed the last bite of biscuit and patted my mouth. “Never?”
“Never. The fact that he brought you here speaks volumes,” she said.
I clamped my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to ask her if she knew the circumstances of how I’d met Hadrian. He was a private person, and she had already told me he didn’t confide everything in her.
“He has his life and everything money could buy. I’m just…a diversion,” I said.
She shook her head. “He has people here. He takes care of them. That’s what Hadrian does. He takes care of people, but he refuses to let anyone take care of him. He’s never let anyone in. Until you. He needs you.”
“He doesn’t,” I insisted.
“Hadrian brought