Page 6 of Billion Dollar Lie

He leans back and fixates me with an expectant smile. My heart hiccups in response. I force myself to maintain eye contact, even though his gaze makes my insides churn with excitement.

I have to pull myself together!

“Me? Oh,there’s not much to tell,” I say, adding a dismissive wave, acting a lot cooler than I am. “I’d much rather hear about you, sir. How was your day?”

He is just playing nice to get the conversation started, but I know he’s here to talk, not to listen. Men like him come here to feel special. They don’t just want their dicks stroked but their egos, too.

“My day was uneventful,” he sighs, still looking at me with that piercing stare. “What’s your name?”

“Cassidy, sir,” I reply.

“No, it’s not,” he points out,correctly. “I want to know your real name.”

“I’m sorry, sir—”

“And stop calling me sir,” he cuts me off. “I’m not your master and I’m not interested in the fake persona you adopt for this job. Tell me something real about yourself—or I’ll get up and leave.”

I don’t know what to say. What is he doing? Is this some kind of test? Did Miss Barry hire him to see how we perform under pressure?

We have strict instructions not to reveal our real names to the patrons, so, as much as I’d love to please him, I can’t disclose that information—and I never thought I’d ever be forced to.

What is his deal?

“Well? I’m waiting,” he urges, raising an eyebrow at me. “It’s your job to entertain me, isn’t it?”

I nod. “What would you like to hear?”

“Your real name, for starters.”

For God’s sake, why must he be so stubborn?

“I can’t tell you that, sir,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Sorry, I mean—”

“Fair enough,” he interrupts me. “But you can tell me what you do when you don’t work here, can’t you?”

A helpless chuckle is all I muster as a response.

“Oh, so that’s forbidden, too?”he probes.

“No, no,” I hurry to reply, shaking my head. “I just don’t think my life is very entertaining. I’d much rather hear about yours.”

He rolls his eyes at me and adds an exasperated sigh.

Not good, not good at all.

“Let me be the judge of that,” he suggests. “Now tell me, what did you do today, before your shift started?”

He pins me down with that unyielding gaze again, leaving no room for me to hide or run. My lips quiver as I try to come up with a response. I’m scared to reveal the truth, but not quick-witted enough to come up with anything else.

“Well, I got up rather late, because I didn’t get to bed before 3 a.m. last night. I started my day with coffee, sitting at my open window, and a book, then I—”

“What book?”he asks.

I’m caught off guard by his question and need a moment to bring myself to answer him.

“Um,The Catcher in the Rye,” I utter, lowering my gaze in shame. “It’s—”

“A brilliant classic by J.D. Salinger, yes I know,” he jumps in, much to my surprise. “Enjoyed that one a lot.”

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