No one controlled her destiny anymore. No one but her.
Never again would she let someone else’s desires interfere with her own.
And so long as clients like Bill Baxter kept calling, it would be only a few more years before she could retire well and truly control her destiny. As soon as she had enough to pay cash for it, she was going to buy herself a quaint little bed and breakfast and be done with this lifestyle once and for all.
She couldn’t wait. The minute she signed the papers and took over ownership, she was burning every single pair of stiletto heels and slinky dresses in her closet. Yoga pants and flip-flops forever after that.
Tugging the folded bills from between her sequined dress and bare flesh, she slipped them into the tiny clutch that also contained her phone, a sharp as hell knife, a handful of condoms, and lipstick. The phone vibrated as she pulled the zipper closed. Mr. Baxter had already left a rating on her website. She didn’t need to look to know it was five stars.
The poor guy had apparently never had a decent blowjob in his life. Until now, anyway.
Shannon exited the hotel and strutted down the street, her quick stride eating up the few blocks to her apartment. She lived on the fifth floor of a multi-use complex right in the heart of downtown, which was perfect because she could walk to pretty much anywhere she needed to be. Plus, the CVS on the ground floor kept her stocked in condoms and Sour Patch Kids.
As soon as she stepped in the door, she kicked off her heels and stripped out of her dress. With all the lights off, no one could see her naked body anyway, even though there weren’t blinds on any of the windows.
Having spent a period of time locked in a basement with no windows, she had a healthy appreciation for sunlight—and moonlight, as it were.
She went to the kitchen, poured herself a Tito’s and freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, and took it into the shower with her, where she proceeded to wash away the remnants of Bill Baxter’s touch.
Not that he’d been a terrible customer or even a bad lay. On the contrary, he had been incredibly considerate, had put forth great effort to attempt to make her orgasm, even though the terms of their contract explicitly stated it was for his pleasure only. She’d finally faked it so he wouldn’t feel let down, because honestly, it wasn’t him, it was her.
Sex was business, not pleasure. She hadn’t had sex for pleasure in so long she couldn’t even remember.
Okay, yes, she could. Still, it had been a long time ago. In truth, in hindsight, it hadn’t been the experience she knew it was supposed to be.
Even her first few times, while technically not business transactions, there had been an ulterior motive, at least for him. She had been a pawn, an infatuation. Yes, she’d once believed that what happened was love—on both sides—but she knew better now. If nothing else, she was wiser for what she’d experienced.
After her shower, she wrapped her freshly loofa-ed and lotioned body in a silky robe, sat at the island in the kitchen, and opened her laptop, pulling up her business website, Star’s Escort Service.
No point in sugarcoating it. Being straightforward helped to weed out people who might accidentally stumble upon her website and made it easy for those who were looking for exactly what she offered.
She charged exuberant rates for her services, partially because she figured she was worth it but also to cover the costs of the ridiculously expensive company she used to vet every single client before she accepted their business. She’d learned the hard way that one could never be too careful.
Her calendar was normally quite full; however, tonight was her last booking for the next five days. It was deliberate. Tomorrow morning, she was picking up a rental car and heading up the coast to Traverse City, Michigan, where she planned to stay at a bed and breakfast she had her eye on as a potential retirement business. Not that the owners had expressed any interest in selling, and, honestly, this place was a tad too close, geographically, to her past, so this wasn’t a true scouting expedition. More of a daydreaming trip disguised as a vacation.
She ought to try to get some sleep, as she was scheduled to be at the rental car facility at eight, and it was already after 2:00 a.m. The problem was, Shannon dreaded trying to fall asleep, especially on nights after she’d been with a client.
The nightmares were always worse on those nights.
Although maybe, this time, it wouldn’t be so bad. Bill Baxter had simply been lonely and socially inept and desperate for a little action that did not involve his own hand wrapped around his cock.
She finished her drink and chased it with another straight shot, and then she headed to bed.
And prayed the monsters wouldn’t get her tonight.
Chapter Three
Leo dropped his bag next to the door and sighed as he walked into the frilly, airy room in the quaint B&B. There were rose petals strewn across the bed, a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver urn on the dresser, two tall flutes ready and waiting next to it. One glass was etched with his, the other with hers.
Cute, if he were with a companion.
Which he wasn’t, for the record.
But fuck it, he’d decided to go on this honeymoon anyway—even calling and asking if he could come a day early—after ditching his bride at the wedding rehearsal, so he might as well enjoy it to its fullest, right?
He strode over and twisted the cork out of the bottle, filled
