Page 12 of Contracted

I almost choked on my next sip as I tried not to show my hurt, my desolation. “She was hateful,” I said quietly. “I think every time she looked at me she saw my father. She couldn’t cope. I ran away and never looked back. I didn’t care that I was broke and homeless for weeks.”

His nostrils flared ever so slightly. “You survived by selling your body?”

I nodded. “It didn’t take long to discover it was my ticket to financial freedom.”

His gaze held mine. “How old were you when you ran away?”

“Sixteen,” I admitted.

He reached for my hand, his expression solemn. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. I was a high class hooker, I wasn’t meant to burden my clients with negativity. Most of my clients were trying to escape their own family dramas. But Serafino had said he didn’t want the fantasy. I guess I’d given him anything but that.

At least the sex had been incredible.

I cleared my throat. “It all worked out in the end.”

He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, his astute stare appearing to see right through me. “Did it?” He smiled, though his eyes glittered with knowledge. “If you’d been able to pick a career before you were forced into your present occupation, what would you have become?”

I shrugged. “Probably an interior designer and decorator. I have a good eye.”

“You’re still young enough to fulfill that dream.”

I nodded. “I am.” I’d just turned twenty-two, yet it seemed as though I’d lived three or four lifetimes already.

“Just not yet?” he prompted.

I took another sip of my chai latte. He didn’t need to know I wasn’t doing escort work after this last night with him. I just had to convince Sinead of that. Being that she’d just lost two workers and I was one of her most sought after call girls, she wouldn’t be happy I wanted to leave.

A waitress brought our breakfast then, and I was thankful for the interruption. No client had ever asked about me about my plans, my future, they’d only ever been keen to discuss their own interests.

Picking up my fork, I said wryly, “Bon appetit.”

Chapter Seven

Serafino

I knew evasiveness when I saw it and heard it, and Delilah was evading my questions like a pro. Literally. I almost smirked at the irony, except there was nothing funny about a woman whose traumatic past had paved her future.

We ate our breakfast in silence, and though it had been cooked to perfection, I barely tasted a thing. All my senses had honed in on Delilah, my body flooding with endorphins.

The universe had been listening when it had sent me the very thing I’d been looking for: something—someone—to refuel my existence and make me feel alive again. I’d never been more attuned to a woman before, had never been more invested or intrigued. I was beginning to understand why Ethan, Salvatore and Valentino had risked everything for their women.

Though I’d become comfortable using and abusing women, I wanted to cherish Delilah and make her happy. I wanted to see her smile and bask in her radiance. She was a special woman who deserved the world. That I didn’t deserve her wasn’t something I was ready to acknowledge just yet.

Paying for our meals, I pulled out her chair and led her outside, turning left and heading toward a small boutique that was becoming known for its quality fashion.

Delilah looked up at me as we entered the shop, the little bell on its front door trilling to announce our arrival. “I think I’ve heard of this place, it’s very exclusive.”

I nodded. “It is.” That it meant we’d likely have the place to ourselves made me happy.

A thin, bleached-blonde saleslady approached, her bright red lips thinning as she looked Delilah up and down before she all but preened as she viewed me in my tailored suit. “May I help you?”

I was tempted to subtly slip open my jacket and bare my firearm, anything to wipe the superior look off her face. Instead I said, “I want you to find this lady everything she needs.”

The saleslady lifted her pointy chin, her eyes alight with dollar signs as she said, “Of course, come this way.”

A few minutes later another saleslady came out with tea in a delicate china cup. It definitely wasn’t my drink of choice, but I accepted it and settled into a squashy chair while Delilah was swept into a curtained area where she could change into everything presented to her.

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