Page 27 of The Rich One

My phone pings to let me know my Uber has arrived. Time to grab my bag and head on out. I don’t want to have this conversation with Polly, she’s done a lot for me in the past and I’ve always looked up to her, but she needs to know it wasn’t okay and it won’t be happening again.

Ever.

Arriving at the cute little wine bar doesn’t take long. Polly waves me over to the fancy booth when she sees me walk in. Her long-time security guy, Frank, is sitting as discreetly as he can a few tables over. He’s been with her for years, since before I started working with her. I’d be surprised if they’ve never fucked; it can’t beallbusiness with those two. I mean, I imagine having him around would be like having your own personal John Cena on standby. He’s always freaked me the fuck out with the way he leers at the girls, but Polly seems to like him and, well, not my circus. Plastering on my best ‘everything is fine’ smile, I head on over to Polly.

“Darling, how are you? It’s been so long.” She rises from her seat to air-kiss both of my cheeks—her usual greeting.

“It has. How’s business?” I’m not messing around with small talk today. I feel like there’s a reason Polly’s girls were ‘sick’ that night. From the shit that psychopathic motherfucker said, this wasn’t the first time he’s done this. I just hope Polly doesn’t know about it, or every ounce of respect I have for the woman will fuck off down the toilet.

“No pleasantries today? Is everything okay, darling?” Genuine concern is clear on her face, putting me at ease.

“Not really, Polly. That Rex guy you sent to me last week, do you know much about him?” It’s really difficult to not stutter his name, but I won’t allow him to hold that power over me, and I’m happy I said it clearly.

“Not a lot. One of the regulars sent him our way. Said he was a friend.” She looks worried now. Since I never usually question her about clients, I think realization is setting in. “Rose? Darling, tell me what happened.” Her spine stiffens, and her shoulders roll back as if she’s readying herself for a fight. She places her weathered hand on mine, her green eyes boring steadfast as she awaits a response.

It takes me a moment to gather myself, but after speaking with Tyler the other night, this is a lot easier than I imagined it would be. She knows what’s coming, I can tell from the tightness around her mouth.

After a few wines, and a long explanation—I don’t spare her any details—she’s up from her seat and holding me tight. This reaction confirms she knew nothing. I hate that I doubted her for even a second.

“We need some stronger drinks than wine, darling. I think cocktails are in order.”

* * *

Four in the fucking morning. That’s when Aaron pulled up to my apartment to take Tyler and me to the charity golf tournament. Tyler’s lucky he’s pretty. That, and he pays well.

I opted for white, wide-leg pants today, paired with a white tank top and white sheer blouse. My red wig has been styled into a sleek side-bun with a few loose tendrils around my lightly made-up face. Sophistication is key at Tyler’s events. It’s all about the aesthetics.

These golf cart things are a lot more fun than they look in the movies, though the actual golf part of today is about as much fun as a kick in the shins.

“Ooh, can I drive the cart?” I sidle up to Tyler on our way to the final hole of the day, my hand on his thigh as I look up to him sweetly.

“Behave.” He side-eyes me as my hand slowly climbs higher.

“Come on, I just wanna drive the cart. Please?”

“I’ll drive into your pussy if you don’t stop asking.” The growl he emits as he speaks is intense, and it sends a delicious tingle straight between my legs.

“You’re no fun.” I over-exaggerate my pout as I continue to slide my palm up and down his firm thigh.

Tyler slows the cart to a stop, turns to face me just as his fingers pinch my chin and his mouth comes to my ear. "I dare you to say I'm no fun later when my dick is pummeling your pussy so hard you'll beg me to make you come." Jesus. I really like this dominant side of him. "We've got one last hole on the course and then, after the gala, I'll play with every single one of your holes." I'm so fucking wet right now, I'm afraid the white pants won't hide any of it. "Now, be a good girl and I'll make you come before we leave here."

These conversations with Tyler are one of my favorite parts of the job. It’s so easy to forget he’s paying me to be here with the effortless way our bodies react to each other. In another life, I could absolutely see myself with this man.

We arrive at the final hole and two of Tyler’s colleagues and their wives in their own cart pull up behind us. I’m grateful we weren’t paired with Brett and Cora for today, it surely would’ve put a damper on the whole thing. I know we have to mingle with them at the gala this evening, but to have the day without them has been blissful.

The giggling wives exit their cart, fawning over their husbands who are deciding which driver to use for this hole. Tyler helps me stand before getting what he needs, pulling me over to him and handing a club to me.

“Er, Tyler?” I'm confused right now. I know I've just stood and watched him dominate the last seventeen holes but why the fuck is he passing me the club?

“Thought you might like to have a shot.” A mischievous glint passes through his eyes as he places the ball on the tee.

Fuck it, why not?

“Okay, but I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Can you help?” Flirting with Tyler comes so naturally, his colleagues would never guess this is all part of a service.

A slow grin creeps onto his god-like face, his strong jawline pronounced as he looks at me with intensity before he spins me and wraps his arms around me from behind. He leisurely slides his fingers down from my shoulders to my wrists, where I’m holding the club with both hands. His cock is resting against my lower back as he helps me adjust my grip on the handle, his lips so close to my ear I have to suppress a shudder.

“Move your feet shoulder width apart.”

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