Page 82 of Role Play
His eyes harden, my question clearly pissing him off. “Why would you ask me that?”
I shrug. “Just curious what the going rate for head is.”
He sucks the air between his teeth and smacks his lips, matching my haughty temper. “A grand. Maybe less for a woman like you because you came really quick.” He lifts his brows. “I barely broke a sweat.”
“Good to know,” I snark before brushing past him toward the door.
He catches my wrist, yanking me back. “Something you want to talk about?”
“No. I think we’ve talked plenty.” I soften my demeanor slightly and nod toward the door. “Come on, let’s finish painting.”
I hold his stare and mentally talk some sense into myself. It’s a business arrangement, Sora. Don’t fall for a man who will never, ever belong to you. This is all just research.
“If you’re sure,” Forrest says softly, releasing my arm.
“I’m sure.”
Just business, I remind myself. If I keep saying it over and over…
Maybe eventually I’ll believe it.
chapter 18
Forrest
Celeste’s yacht dwarfs every other vessel in the marina—a gleaming display of wealth stretching nearly two hundred feet. From the upper deck, I watch the sunset light up the Manhattan skyline, as I try to shake the knot in my gut.
“You’re brooding,” Celeste observes, handing me a champagne flute. “Not a good look for your big night.”
“My big night?” I ask. “I told you this was all for another client.”
She gives me a knowing look. “Ah, so we’re still stuck on that narrative.”
I haven’t seen Sora properly in three days. After what happened at the brownstone—after I tasted her, made her come apart under my tongue—she retreated behind a wall of distance. We finished painting Dakota’s room in silence, ate DoorDashed burgers, without talking about anything real. We plunged into the deep end, then Sora resurfaced, sputtering and gasping, and apparently promising never to get too close to me again.
Sora’s been strategically avoiding me while she can. Dakota and I move into the brownstone this weekend. I wanted to breakthe ice with Sora before we went from uncomfortable friends to uncomfortable roommates. So, I planned and invited her on our first role-play date—the billionaire experience.
I can’t stop thinking about what might’ve set her off. I thought I had her. The way she trembled, those soft sounds she made, the vulnerability in her eyes. But then she followed up the affair with her question about how much I’d charge for what we’d done…
I know something triggered her.
And her question stung more than I want to admit.
“Earth to Forrest,” Celeste says, snapping her fingers. “You’re gone again.”
“Sorry.” I sip the champagne, bubbles sharp on my tongue.Gross.It was supposed to be a prop in my hand as I wait for Sora to arrive, yet I keep absentmindedly sipping it. “Just thinking.”
“About what?” Celeste’s lips curve knowingly.
“What if I admit I’m in uncharted territories?” I ask.
“Then you’d finally clue in to what the rest of us have,” she answers. “But I don’t really see the problem.” She straightens my jacket collar, her touch efficient rather than intimate.
I shrug, scanning the horizon. “Question for you—could you ever love an escort? Accept his past, embrace his future.”
Celeste’s silence says it all.
“Exactly,” I add bitterly. “Disregarding how I feel, is this a safe game to play? What if I do my job too well?” I had to fill Celeste in on the ruse I’ve cooked up for Sora, and my plight to help her career, when I asked for her help. Short of buying a big-five publisher herself and putting Sora on shelves, Celeste eagerly pulled out all the stops for this evening.
