Page 50 of Cruel Hearts

Douglas opens the car door, and I slide gratefully inside. The cool air hits my skin, and I inhale a deep breath.

I barely settle into my seat, and Nathalie crawls into my lap and licks at my mouth. I feel almost paternal toward her, and I nudge her back onto the leather cushion. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I smooth my hand down her arm. I touch her bruise and she flinches.

We go up to the penthouse—there are a few things I need to ask her. She pulls off her heels and walks around the living room, and her skin glows in the setting sun streaming through the window. I pour a drink and sit on the sofa. Loosening my tie, I ask, “How long have you known Ash? You work for him, don’t you?”

I never questioned where, exactly, Ash found her. Assumed, maybe, he knew her through connections at our gentleman’s club. Men who cheat on their wives pay to be discrete. Like Ash. He publicly loves my sister, but behind closed doors, what is he doing?

Nathalie stills. This wasn’t what she expected, and she’s reluctant to answer. I’m hesitant to push because I don’t want to put her in the same position Stella’s in. Stella, by the sounds of it, has Denton watching her back, and that’s more than what Nathalie would have if she’s caught squealing on Ash.

If Nathalie gives me information, I need to be prepared to keep her safe.

“Yeah. About seven years,” she finally answers.

I choke on my drink. She’s my age, or thereabouts. She’s been on Ash’s payroll since her early twenties...a third of her life gone.

“What do you do for him?”

Nathalie pads over to me and straddles my lap. Undoing my tie, she says, “Why talk about that, baby? Let me make you feel good.” She rolls her hips, hoping to turn me on.

She’s a pretty girl, her mahogany hair hanging down her back in thick waves and her finely arched eyebrows framing big blue eyes. It was her eyes that persuaded me to let her fuck me the evening Ash brought her to my office. So much like Stella’s bright blue irises that reflected the light letting me glimpse at her soul.

“Nathalie.”

She stops and fear flickers across her face. “You’re tired of me.”

“No. Yes. I mean, no. It’s not that. We’ve never been a couple.” A real couple.

A blush stains her cheeks.

She moves to crawl off my lap, but I hold on to her waist to keep her in place. It’s stupid because we’ve been sleeping together for a long time, but her cleft cradles my cock and I feel like I’m cheating on Stella.

“What do you do for Ash?” I ask again. “You said he pays you to spend time with me. Am I the only man you see?”

She swallows, and tears fill her eyes. Shaking her head, she says, “No. But you’re first, no matter what I’m doing, no matter who I’m with. If you call me, I’m supposed to go.”

“Were you with someone this afternoon? Is that why you said you needed time to get ready for dinner?”

She nods, and a tear rolls down her cheek.

I don’t brush it away like I would have before. It’s too intimate of an act. Even though she’s still on my lap, we’re talking about her johns.

I’m not her lover. I’m one of her jobs.

I knew this and used her anyway.

“Why did you start working for him?”

She rubs her eyes. “My mom got sick. I had to drop out of school and work. A friend was making a shit-ton of money working as an escort, and she asked if I wanted to. The only requirement, she said, was that you had to be pretty and have good teeth. I had braces when I was a kid.” She sniffles. “She introduced me to—”

“Ash.”

“No. Mr. Black. His dad.”

“You’ve been an escort all this time?”

She nods miserably. “The Blacks—once you start working for them, you can’t quit. My mom passed away, and I didn’t need to pay her medical bills anymore, but they wouldn’t let me go.”

“Why?” I ask, but I should have known.

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