Which was stupid. Because my bad decisions weren’t her problem.
They weren’t anyone’s problem but my own.
She watched me sadly as I left.
In the parking lot, Victoria waited by a sleek, dark-colored car.
Huh. I thought for sure she would have chickened out, but she talked on the phone with someone until I approached and then hastily ended the call.
“This your ride?” I asked her.
She nodded, unlocking the car, and motioning for me to take the passenger side.
I slid into the seat, noting the perfect leather and expensive interior. Shit. I should have asked for more money. I could have gotten a thousand from her. She clearly wasn’t from this side of the Saint View-Providence border. The car screamed of Providence wealth.
I stewed on that while she drove us in silence, winding through the streets of the affluent town on the other side of the Saint View slums I called home. She didn’t try to make conversation, and every time I did, she answered in monosyllables, so eventually I gave up.
Whatever. We didn’t have to talk. I’d do what I was getting paid for and then I could leave.
Eventually, she turned off the main road and into a side street lined on both sides with thick trees. We bumped along for a minute until the lights were no longer visible behind us, then she pulled over to the side of the road. Low-hanging tree branches scratched at the roof, and I cringed at the thought she’d rather scratch up her expensive car than be seen with me.
She turned the engine off but then went back to staring straight ahead, like I wasn’t even in the car.
I cleared my throat. “So I’ll need the money up front.”
She reached around to the back seat and grabbed her purse. With fingers that shook, she rummaged through her bag and eventually withdrew five hundred-dollar bills and passed them to me.
I took them, shoving them deep in the pocket of my jeans and pulling out a condom at the same time, setting it down on the center console between us. She glanced at it, her eyes widening in fear.
Fucking hell. I’d been accused of being an insensitive prick more than once, and years ago, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed her expression. Nor cared about it.
But I wasn’t that man anymore.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I told her softly, using a tone not too many people knew I even possessed. “If this isn’t what you want…”
She shook her head hard, finally looking me in the eye. “You’re incredibly attractive. It’s not you.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry about my feelings, Your Highness. I haven’t got any.”
Her eyebrows furrowed together. At the royal nickname or the out-and-out lie that I didn’t have feelings, I wasn’t sure which. But she didn’t voice her questions out loud.
“I want to do this. My husband…”
“Is a piece of shit?”
She stared at me with her big eyes. “He slept with someone else, and I found out a few weeks ago.” Her fingers trembled.
I realized the way she shook perhaps wasn’t in fear, but with an anger she’d bottled up, now ready to explode.
“I thought I would feel better if I evened the score…”
I sat back and stared out into the dark night. “Doesn’t really work like that, though, does it?”
A tear dripped down her cheek, and she brushed it away angrily. “No.”
I could relate. I’d done things I could never take back, all because I was trying to make myself feel better.
It never worked for me, and it clearly wasn’t working for Victoria.