Carter Preston jolts when I shove the adjoining door open and take the room by storm. He’s wearing nothing more than black dress slacks, his untrimmed physique on display from the belt up, and his eyes widen when he sees me.
Not Lola, who he was expecting.
Just me.
“What the hell—”
“You.” I point a finger at him, fury on heels, as I make my way across the elegant hotel room. But all I can picture is the image of mascara-laced tears staining Lola’s cheeks. The bruises on her upper arms. The ripped lace of her lingerie. “You put your hands on her.”
“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? My hands on her? My dick in her?” His chuckle is like sandpaper to my eardrums, and his eyes are lasers of suggestion as they take me in. I can see the minute it registers that I’m not here to replace Lola. “Ah, the queen has left her throne.”
Queen? More like madam.
“You broke the agreement.” I stand my ground despite how his eyes scrape over every part of my body. How they study me. How they want me.
His head angles to the side, and his smile slides arrogantly onto his lips, putting the thousands he’s spent on cosmetic dentistry on display. “What a good boss. Coming to fulfill what your employee failed to finish?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“I want what I paid for,” he says cavalierly, as only a person born into money can.
“You got what you paid for.”
“See?” He chuckles and takes a step toward me. “That’s where we disagree. Lola ran next door before anything happened . . . so from where I stand, I was shortchanged and overcharged.” I control the hitch of my breath when he reaches out and traces a finger down the side of my cheek. “Unless, of course, you’d like to take her place.”
My body revolts at the thought.
“Lola ran next door because being rough with her wasn’t the agreed upon terms of your contract.”
“A little spanking isn’t rough.” He waves his hand at me in dismissal.
“What you wanted was a lot more than spanking. I have girls willing to do that, but not Lola. There is such a thing as consent, and you clearly didn’t get it, nor did you ever ask for it.”
“Is this an escort service or a day care?”
My smile is lethal and laced with sarcasm. “You know what this is, and you signed an acknowledgment of the rules and requirements ahead of time.” I quirk a brow as I find my footing despite the absolute discord I feel at the moment. “Like I said, I require consent, and you didn’t get it.”
“I didn’t get much of anything”—he runs a hand over his face, and the sound of it scraping over his stubble fills the room—“least of all what I paid for.”
“You did get what you paid for. A dinner date.”
His chuckle is low and unforgiving. “I paid for a hell of a lot more than—”
“Stop,” I shout, needing to cut him off as the realization hits me that this could be a complete setup.
It could, couldn’t it?
I stare at him and try to gather my wits in spite of the adrenaline rushing through my veins. Thinking on my feet has always been a strength of mine, and I need it to be right now as well.
Repeat the company line, Vaughn. Tell him what he knows just in case he’s recording this to use against you later.
“You paid for companionship. A woman to spend time with you. All money was exchanged ahead of time, so anything agreed upon after the fact was between the two of you,” I explain. And yes, I just contradicted myself. I just said that sex wasn’t paid for, when moments before I was telling him I required their sex and his need for roughness to be consensual. Lucky for me, he’s so distracted he doesn’t call me on it.
Our eyes meet. Hold. “Cute. That’s how you want to play this?”
“I’m not playing anything,” I assert.
“We both know what this transaction included.” He takes a step toward me, the shock at my presence now giving way to anger. His sneer turning into an elitist smirk.
“Companionship,” I state evenly, although my insides feel like a kick drum is pounding in my veins.
“You think that will fly when I make a phone call to the attorney general about a certain woman named Vee who seems to—”
“Let me stop you right there,” I say and lift my hand up to prevent him from