Page 17 of Viral Affair

The upcoming week felt strange. I had several clients to see. All of them were much older and only needed dinner company or someone to talk to. I was always a wild card, and more often than not, the client expected me to fuck them by the end of the night. This whole week, that wasn’t asked for or required at all. I didn’t always enjoy it, especially when the client was quite a lot older, but I was compensated well, so I couldn’t really complain.

I had seen Rupert in the club a few times. He made me so nervous and I always felt his eyes on me. Soon I’d start questioning myself and the choices I’d made, which wasn’t great for my mental health. My body tingled whenever he was close. I was waiting for him to make the first move, to drag me upstairs and fuck me until I saw stars—yet he never did. This was slowly driving me crazy.

On that electrifying Friday night, a delicious sense of desire set my senses ablaze as I slipped into the car. Adorned in a dazzling gold Chanel dress that hugged my curves in all the right places, and elevated on sky-high heels, I exuded a confidence that surpassed all expectations.

“Hello, dear,” a voice to my right said.

I plastered on a prize-winning smile, turning to face Mr. Whimpey, who was my client for tonight. Rowan had said he needed me for the whole weekend to accompany him to the opening of a gallery in Paris. I was so pumped, but when I saw him, my excitement quickly fizzled out as I realised that my client was on the much older side.

“Mr Whimpey, it’s a pleasure." I smiled at him.

He had snow-white hair and was handsome for an older gentleman. I had to give him that. But there was absolutely no attraction between us. I really wanted to be fucked by someone younger, someone with great stamina who could talk dirty to me. Maybe they would make me forget a certain man I met two years ago...

Stop being ungrateful. This man is paying you lots of money, so get in character and entertain your client.

Rowan knew I preferred younger clients, even though they were intense and sometimes left me drained because some of them had certain … preferences in the bedroom. So I didn’t understand why he’d match me up with Mr. Whimpey.

“You look stunning, my dear. And I see you’re ready for Paris.” He took my hand.

“I have never been more ready,” I lied. I was great at faking my own happiness.

The driver smoothly joined the upcoming traffic and I glanced out of the window, leaving the club behind. We were driving towards the airport. I didn’t know what Laura was planning this weekend, but I truly needed a good night out, even if my client wasn’t going to give me good sex by the end of it.

“Call me Bruce, dear. I don’t like formalities,” he said.

And then we fell into easy conversation about his business. He’d made a lot of money in the Middle East in the past. His late wife, Judy, had died a few years ago and he continued to work because he enjoyed it and helped him pass the time. He came across as intelligent and kind, and I could plainly see he felt lonely. So I decided to be as attentive as I could. I needed to make him feel special—that’s what I was paid to do. This weekend wasn’t going to give me the thrill of messy sex that I normally experienced, but I could get enjoyment in other ways.

Twenty minutes later, Bruce and I boarded his private jet at Heathrow Airport. The flight wasn’t long but I ended up getting to know him a bit better. We talked about his favourite artist and the upcoming evening.

The landing went smoothly and an hour later, I was staring out of the taxi window as we passed the Eiffel Tower. The whole evening was mesmerising, so I pushed my frustration aside and told myself that despite everything that had happened lately, I was going to enjoy myself tremendously at the gallery. Bruce mentioned he was taking me out to dinner first. I got excited when the driver dropped us outside one of the finest Parisian restaurants.

“How long have you been working for Emperor?” Bruce asked once we sat down and he’d ordered us some expensive champagne.

I shifted in my seat, flustered, keenly aware that I was drawing attention in my dress and with my companion. Other men, even the ones who were dining with other women, clearly checked me out. I felt proud of myself, proud of everything I’d achieved so far. Maybe I was overdressed, but Bruce clearly enjoyed having me in his company. His eyes were on me.

“Around two years, give or take,” I replied, surprised by his question. Normally my clients avoided talking to me about what I did for work. They would talk about business, previous relationships, and other menial things that created the temporary belief that what was happening between us was special.

Several moments later, the waiter brought the champagne.

“Why do you ask?” I questioned.

Bruce didn’t answer right away. He watched when the waiter opened the bubbly that probably cost more than my designer shoes and poured us both a glass.

“You seem smart and wise, so please allow me to assume that you’re not going to be working for Mr. Matthews for too much longer,” he said, smiling once we were alone again.

“No, I have other plans. Once I’m independent enough, I’m going to promote brands on social media. I’m building up my following,” I replied, goosebumps spreading over my arms. I felt like someone I knew was watching me, but when I glanced around the restaurant, I didn’t spot anyone familiar. This was very bizarre and that feeling lingered the entire time.

“That is … excellent, Veronica. I’m glad that you’re pursuing your dreams, because frankly,” he said, pausing for a moment as though he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to carry on, “forgive me if I offend you in any way, but you’re wasting yourself as an escort woman.”

I stared at him for several long moments, wondering why what he’d said unexpectedly got to me. People had certain opinions about me, my lifestyle and my choices, but for some reason, what Bruce said hit me harder than ever before. He made me feel unworthy and dirty. Shit, I needed to stop with this self-sabotaging. He was just being honest with me.

“It’s been tough the past several months because some clients are more demanding than the others. However, this job is financially rewarding. I don’t think I would ever be able to work for someone else,” I explained as the same odd awareness of someone watching me came back.

Bruce started talking about his childhood and his parents when I finally turned to my right and nearly fell off my chair when I spotted Rupert sitting a few tables away from me, I was in utter shock, certain this was no fucking coincidence. He wasn’t looking at me and when I leaned over to see better, I noticed he was with another woman. She was a fucking blonde, beautiful, and was laughing at something he said to her. Freaking unbelievable. Had he followed me all the way here? My whole body tingled and heat rushed through to the pit of my stomach, slowly turning into blazing anger.

“Is everything all right, Veronica?” Bruce asked.

I snapped my gaze at him. He seemed positively flustered, too, even though his eyes twinkled at the corners.

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