The Weekend Proposition - Ella Jade Page 0,1

supposed to find a date on such short notice?” Spencer had been busy playing around with Ava over the years. When they weren’t together he threw himself into his work. He had no last minute prospects, or at least not any he would consider bringing to a family function.

“You’re a rich, eligible bachelor who lives in Manhattan and runs one of the largest advertising companies in the city. Hire an escort.”

“Goodbye, asshat. I have work to do if I’m going to make this wedding. Don’t forget to approve those storyboards before you leave on Wednesday.”

“Good luck with finding your date, Prince Charming.”

“Whatever.” Spencer ended the call.

An escort service? Really?

When he glanced at his watch he realized he had a long night ahead of him. Standing from his desk he stretched out his back and headed to his private kitchen to put on a fresh pot of coffee. As he walked down the hall, he thought about the dreaded upcoming weekend. He’d known Ava would be there, but he’d hoped she would bring a date who would keep her occupied. Their last breakup had been messy, but he assumed she had moved on when she hadn’t contacted him like she normally did after they called it quits. Now that she’d made her intentions known on social media, she would be a woman on a mission. She’d be all over him this weekend.

A few years ago, that wouldn’t have been a bad thing. When they were younger, the game was fun. She’d get mad because he wasn’t attentive enough and pretend to sulk. He’d buy her flowers and they’d hop in the sack. Nothing was at stake back then. They both knew what they were doing wasn’t about commitment. Ava changed the terms of their unspoken contract when she demanded he set a date. Spencer ended the game.

Pushing open the door to his lounge, he stopped, stunned over a woman standing by the sink. She wasn’t facing him, but her long black hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her slim back caught his attention. She wore a thin, gray t-shirt and a pair of form fitting dark yoga pants that hugged her shapely bottom.

Where did you come from?

“Ma, please don’t cry.”

Spencer heard the panic in this young woman’s voice. It unsettled him to hear her distress but he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but this was his private space and he had no idea who she was or what she was doing in the building.

“We won’t get evicted. I’ll find a way to get the rent money.”

He stepped into the room and closed the door, hoping she’d hear him, but she continued to speak in a loud, quick tone as she waved her hands in a frantic manner.

“I have to go. Please don’t worry. I get paid Friday. We’ll use that.” She paused and shook her head. “We won’t starve. I’ll grab some extra shifts at the diner.”

He picked up on her Brooklyn accent as it thickened with the rise of her anxiety.

When she turned just an inch or so, he got a better look at her profile. Her olive skin complimented her long dark hair. Her petite frame appeared tone. She ran her fingers through her locks as she shifted her feet. Something inside Spencer stirred. He wanted to reach out and place his hand on her shoulder and tell her not to worry, he’d fix all of her problems.

Who is she?

“I have to get to work. Ma, don’t worry. I’ll figure it out. I love you too.” Letting out a slow breath, she ended the call. She put her head down almost in defeat. “What am I gonna do?” she mumbled to herself.

Spencer cleared his throat.

“Oh!” She jumped at the sound, dropping her cell as she turned toward him. “Christ, you scared the shit—” She stopped and looked at him, the horror evident on her face. “Mr. Cannon, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were still in the building.”

“I’m working late.” He bent down and picked up her phone. “I thought I’d make a pot of coffee. Do I know you?”

“No, I’m with the cleaning company.”

“Looks like it’s still in one piece.” He handed her the older version of a cell, one he hadn’t seen in a while.

“Thanks.” She took it from him.

“I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. I don’t want to hold you up.” He pointed to the coffee pot. “I need fuel to get through a late night.”

“It’s your