Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Shit, Maya,” she says, taking my hand under the table and giving it a squeeze. “Oh, honey, you are just going through it right now, aren’t you?”
“I think my dumb, impulsive teenager phase is hitting about five years too late,” I say, with a laugh.
It’s not funny—not at all—but that second martini is hitting hard, taking the edge off my pain.
“But we always knew I was a late bloomer,” I continue, glancing down at my phone as it begins to vibrate on the table beside my drink. Anthony’s face pops up on the screen as the muted call buzzes twice before I reach over, sending it to voicemail.
I’m fast, but I’m not fast enough, a fact Sydney proves as she says, “Holy hell, woman, was that him? Pull that picture up again. I need to see this sexy lying beast for myself.”
“He is a sexy beast,” I agree, pulling up the shot I took of Anthony smiling at me over his shoulder in the sculpture court at the museum. With the natural light filtering in through the giant windows and the white marble all around him, he looks like a male model.
Or a movie star.
Or a very expensive prostitute, who breaks dumb girls’ hearts on a regular basis.
“Wow.” Sydney blinks several times. “He’s gorgeous, Maya. And he has really kind eyes.” She looks up from the screen, her forehead furrowing. “Like…really kind. And the way he’s looking at you in that shot?” She shakes her head as she sets my phone back on the table. “I mean, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s not a creep who’s going to steal your identity and give you crabs.”
My brows shoot up. “Crabs? Oh God, I didn’t even think of those. We were both tested for STDs, but can they detect crabs with a normal test? Probably not, right? I mean, aren’t they like…lice, or something?” I make a gagging sound. “Ew. Lice. Why is being a human so gross?”
“It is gross,” Sydney says, patting my hand. “But it’s also pretty amazing. And that guy doesn’t look like he has crabs. He looks like he has a standing appointment at that preppy barbershop in Chelsea that charges two hundred dollars for a shave. He is very well-maintained.” She purses her lips and tilts her head to one side. “And a little familiar, honestly. I wonder if I’ve run into him somewhere. I attend a lot of charity banquets with women who would have no problem plunking down a few hundred dollars for a pretty man on their arm.”
“Try a few thousand,” I mutter, nibbling on the peppermint shortbread that came with my drink. I’m starting to get hungry, but for the first time all week, I’m dreading dinner with Anthony.
I’m not the type of person who can put hard conversations off until they’re convenient. As soon as I lay eyes on Anthony again, it’s all going to come out—all my suspicion and hurt and frustration, all my half-formed theories and secret fears.
“Really?” Sydney makes a thoughtful noise. “How much did you pay this man?” I tell her and she squawks in alarm. “Maya! Jesus. Let me see that picture again.” She grabs my phone, holding it up to my face to unlock the screen before pulling up Anthony’s photo.
She then takes a shot of my phone with her phone, making my stomach drop.
“No, Sydney, don’t,” I say, reaching for her arm.
“Don’t what?” she asks, shoving her phone into her bag before I can grab it.
“Don’t report him to the police or whatever it is you’re thinking. With the exception of this morning, he’s treated me wonderfully. He’s been kind and protective and supportive and charming. And he even insists on paying for everything.”
She snorts. “He can afford it. You practically gave him your life savings. I mean, ten grand a week? If I ever burn through my inheritance, maybe I’ll become an escort. I had no idea they made that kind of money.”
“And that was with a fifty percent discount because Weaver’s friends with the owner of the club,” I murmur, flinching when she squawks again. “But still, he’s been generous. And I don’t know, maybe there really was a sick friend.”
“No, there wasn’t. Trust your gut, Maya. The gut never lies.”
“Maybe, but one lie doesn’t make him a bad person. And it certainly doesn’t justify getting him arrested.” I glance around, lowering my voice before I add, “Prostitution is still illegal, you know. And I could get into trouble, too. I’m part of this illegal equation.”
Her shoulders relax and some of the outrage fades from her expression. “I seriously doubt anyone would prosecute you, but don’t worry. I’m not going to report him. I’m just going to keep his face on file, so I know exactly who to go looking for if anything happens to you.”