Page 10 of Cruel Malady: A Necrosis of the Mind

I’m not one to favor superficial beauty. I’d like to think I’m not that shallow—but I admit, I’m stunned. Because there’s a gravity to her sea-green eyes that startles me.

An ache builds in my chest, and I release the breath I’ve held for too long.

“I noticed your party up there,” I say to her, pitching my voice over the music, but also trying to gain the attention of the guy next to her. “What are you celebrating?”

She outright ignores me, turning her gaze ahead. To the man beside her, she delicately touches his arm and whispers in his ear. He laughs, and I’m supposed to take the hint.

As the bartender sets the martini glasses in front of us, I peer down into my drink with a tight smile. Beautiful or not, this woman is an escort, and a barricade I have to get through to obtain my objective.

“How much for the night?” I ask pointblank.

The suit lowers his martini as his eyes dart my way. “She’s spoken for,” he says directly.

I hold up my hands apologetically. “Didn’t mean to offend. But I mean…look at her.” I cock my head, trying to get the woman to react. “Can you blame me?”

He actually chuckles. Then he strokes her bare shoulder with purposeful intent, a display of ownership. She is his property, at least for the night. I happen to notice the silver wedding band on his finger.

“I certainly can’t.” He adjusts his suit cuff to reveal a Rolex. 40mm. Oystersteel. I know my clocks. “However, not to be rude, but you probably couldn’t afford it, my friend.”

It.Nother.

I nod sagely, sip my martini, and watch the woman. Any escort with half a brain for business would capitalize on this development. I watched them walk in with an escort to man ratio that would benefit her. More paying men in their party, more money to be shelled out her way.

Come on. Do the math.

“Let me buy you a drink,” I say, and raise my hand to get the bartender’s attention.

He shakes his head. “That’s not necessary—”

“I insist. I rarely get the opportunity to mingle with such fine company.” I lift my chin at the bartender to signal him. “Another two martinis,” I say, then look at my new friend. “Dirty?”

“Sure, why not?” he says.

His response irks me. I noted that both their martinis are straight-up with a lemon twist. The traits I’m seeking would not be so passive. I start to order the drinks, when the escort speaks up.

“Dry. Lemon twist.” She says this directly to the bartender.

My gaze stays on her while I refer to the bartender. I thought escorts were supposed to be accommodating. “You heard the lady.” I reach into my back pocket for my wallet and produce a credit card. I think twice about leaving a money trail, and set the card aside while I count out cash.

I take a swallow of my dirty martini. “You look familiar,” I say to the escort. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I doubt it.” She lets a curtain of blond hair fall between us.

I have the sudden and instinctual urge to sweep her hair back. I need to see her eyes. I clamp my hand around the base of the martini glass instead. “So, how much do you charge for a whole night?” I press.

“You’re fucking blunt,” the suit says. His smile says he’s no longer insulted, though. He’s stated the facts. He likes to own his toys, and he doesn’t share. Now I’m just amusement.

I can work with that. “I’m serious,” I say. “You have to have a friend—” I toss a glance over my shoulder toward the VIP section. “I’d like to know how broke I’ll be in the morning, and if it’s worth it.” I place my hand over my heart. “If she’s as beautiful as you, I’m sure it’d be entirely worth it, of course.”

As the drinks are set before them, the escort pushes away from the bar. “I’ll meet you back in the lounge, Ericson.”

I watch her saunter away with her drink.

“They don’t like being called out publicly like that,” the suit—Ericson—says. He finishes off his first martini before picking up the second. “Thanks for the drink, but I should follow after her.”

I hike an eyebrow. “Even when you pay for it, youpayfor it. Women, right?”

He laughs. “Wise words.” His light-colored eyes assess me. “Why don’t you join us. We have more than enough hosts of the female persuasion to keep you company.”

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