more times than he did, and he wants his money back? Was I not up to the agency standards? Even though he figured out I wasn’t with them in the first place, he probably wants a refund. “How may I help you?”
“Mr. Morrow has a proposition for you. A second contract of sorts.”
Relief washes over me. I wasn’t totally shit at being an escort! He wants me back.
But I’m not really an escort. And Miranda doesn’t seem to know that. Does she? Would it hurt to let her keep thinking that I am one?
I remember the spanking he gave me over his lap, my ass cheeks clenching beneath me, making my decision. No more lying. “Miranda, you know I’m not really an escort though, right?”
“I’ve got your information right here. The background check was run last night. And I’ve got your signature on the first contract with Mr. Morrow.”
“Ah—but…” my words trail off.
If he wants me for another night, why not?
The money is good. The sex is fantastic. And, after being with him, the words flowed like water.
Maybe he can make them flow again.
Like the arousal that’s now pooling between my thighs at the thought of seeing him again.
She gives an impatient sigh. “Katie? Are you still there?”
My throat feels tight and I gulp. “I’m here.”
“Good. Let me spell out the terms of the contract for you. Mr. Morrow has an elderly grandmother living in his hometown of Peach Orchard, Georgia.”
Peach Orchard? I try to picture stern, sexy Darius living somewhere with such a name. I can’t. “Okay.”
“She’s about to celebrate her eightieth birthday and though as feisty as they come, she’s constantly telling Darius that her days are numbered. She has one wish, one thing that she tells him would allow her to live out the rest of her days on this Earth in peace: to know that her oldest grandson is happily attached to a wonderful woman.”
“That’s… nice?” I’m not sure where I come into this charming story.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Morrow is very busy with his many enterprises and hasn’t time for dating. Thus, he’s been unable to find a suitable woman to share his life with.”
“I hear that,” I sigh, thinking of my previous year-long dry spell.
“Okay? Anyway, he’s paying her a visit for her birthday. And he’d like to ease her mind. Though Mr. Morrow is very clear that he dislikes dishonesty, he feels it may be worth pulling a bit of a ruse in order to bring his grandmother happiness.”
“I’m sorry, I still don’t see where I fit into this equation—”
“He’d like you to accompany him. As his fake fiancée.”
Her words ring in my mind, momentarily stunning me. I think of the tall, confident beauties that streamed through the halls of the casino last night. Anyone of them would do a fantastic job with their elegant manners, their poise. “He wants… me?”
“Yes. The trip will be two weeks. All of your expenses will be paid, your clothing provided, your meals taken care of. You will first arrive at Mr. Morrow’s penthouse for a few days to get more acquainted with him before the trip.”
I think of his big hands on my body, the orgasms that racked my soul. “And… what about sex?”
“I’ll leave that up to you two to discuss. Then we can amend the contract as we see fit. But for the trip, he’s offering two hundred thousand dollars. Half up front to be transferred directly into your bank account. The other half to be sent at the completion of the trip.”
Two. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars.
The most zeroes my bank account has ever seen is three. And that’s after an advance—one that disappears within a few weeks. “That’s… generous of him.”
She moves on to her next point. “It’s a small town. Conservative. Old fashioned. You’ll need to… blend in.”
“No problem.” I’m from a one stoplight town where nothing exciting ever happened and you called people ma’am and sir. Though I can’t picture Darius in a place called Peach Orchard, I’ll fit in just fine.
“Do we have an agreement?”
The answer leaves my mouth before I have a chance to think it over and make a responsible decision. “I’ll do it.”
“Good. The car will be there in an hour to collect you. Pack light. Everything will be chosen for you and prepared for your arrival.”
“An hour?”
“Is that a problem?”
Thanks to my introverted lifestyle, my calendar is completely blank, save for a dental cleaning next month. “Uh, no. I’ll just move a few things around—”
“Good. He’ll see you then.”