Boyfriend for Hire(18)

As I pass by the bathroom door, I can hear Elle coughing. The sound doesn’t stop, and when I realize she’s retching, my stomach drops. This is my fault. She told me she was a lightweight. Told me that she never drank very much. I should have kept a closer eye on her, made sure she didn’t drink too much.

I rush through the door and find her hunched over the toilet, and the helpless look on her face makes my heart ache. With one hand, I pull her hair away from her face, holding it loosely between her shoulder blades. I use the other to rub the straining muscles on her back, tense from vomiting.

Elle takes one look at me and starts sobbing, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my God, Nic, I’m so sorry. I should have been better than this. It’s just that I, like, never drink,” she says between breaths.

“Don’t apologize. This shit happens to everyone every once in a while,” I reply, brushing a few stray hairs away from her face.

She sniffles and nods, mustering a weak smile before flushing the toilet and rising to her feet. I help her to the sink, where she brushes her teeth.

When she’s done, I carry her back to her room and seat her on the edge of her bed. Once she’s settled, I go to the kitchen and bring her a tall glass of water and a bottle of aspirin, placing them on her bedside table.

Her watchful gaze follows me, and I’m relieved that at least my straining erection has died down.

“Can I help you change?” I ask.

Elle nods, remaining quiet.

I unzip the back of her gown, and she stands so it falls to the floor in a puddle around her bare feet. I keep my eyes trained on her red-painted toenails to avoid looking at the curve of her hips or the creaminess of her full breasts.

“What do you like to sleep in?” I ask, my voice thick.

“Just a T-shirt, please. Second drawer.”

I cross the room to her dresser and open the drawer she’s indicated. I pull out a soft gray T-shirt and hand it to her.

After tucking her in, I leave one last kiss on her forehead and tell her good night.

As I drive home in silence, my mind spins with everything that happened between Elle and me tonight. How could I have been so stupid? I’m getting lazy. Careless. I’m supposed to be a professional, but tonight I felt like anything but. This isn’t like me. And I need to get my shit together—fast.

Once home, I strip off my tuxedo and hang it up, then brush my teeth, eager to get some shut-eye. Despite how many of my rules I broke by kissing Elle on the mouth and going home with her, at least things didn’t go any further than that. Because as much as I want to believe that I’m the kind of man who has an endless supply of self-control and discipline, if Elle had wanted to fuck me, there’s no way I would have been able to say no.

If tonight confirmed anything for me, it’s that Elle hits all my weak spots, even the ones I didn’t know I had.

I grab my phone before tucking in for the night and shoot Elle a quick text to check in on her. I doubt she’ll even text me back tonight—she’s probably passed out—but I like the idea of her waking up knowing I was thinking about her.

Fuck, I really am screwed with this one.

? ? ?

At work the next day, I have my usual meeting with Case to go over my clients for that week and make sure everything is running smoothly. We’ve been going over business as usual for half an hour when he leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow at me.

“Hey, how did it go with that chick who didn’t know you’re being paid to date her?”

I sigh and push my hand through my hair. Not exactly the direction I wanted this meeting to go. “It was fine. You know how it is—another day, another client. She didn’t seem to catch on.”

Case nods but doesn’t reply right away, eyeing me for a few awkward seconds. “Was the client happy with how it went?”

My mind flashes to Christine pulling me aside at the wedding, basically yelling at me for being too good at my job. She totally got in my head about everything between Elle and me, and now that I think about it more, I think her yelling at me was partly why I decided to go home with Elle after all, rules be damned.

But I can’t let Case know any of that.

I shrug. “I think the lying part freaked her out a little by the end. But hey, she paid in full, so no complaints here.”

He eyes me again, then crosses his arms. “Something’s different with this chick, man. It’s written all over your face. What, did you break one of your precious rules?”

I grit my teeth, instantly furious with how well Case knows me.

Asshole.

“Nothing happened. Now, if you’re done grilling me, I have work to do.” Pushing my chair back, I stand to leave.

Case smirks at me and cocks his head to the side. “All right, whatever you say. Just don’t ever tell me I’m not the kind of boss who’s here to listen.”

I roll my eyes and march toward the living room.

I know he’s just trying to help, but Case is the last person I want to talk to about all this. For as much as he likes to work me to the bone—pun intended—he’s always trying to get me to loosen up a little bit, have more fun on the job. Too bad I’m learning really quickly just how much trouble a little fun can get you.

I check the time. Four thirty. Time for me to pick up my Sunday regular.

Every Sunday I take Esther, my oldest client, to dinner at her country club. It’s not sexual, by any means—not that I’m here to judge anyone for their age preferences. I just pretend to be her charming and successful grandson to impress her snooty old friends. Probably the easiest money I make in this job, especially since I see these rich pricks enough to know just what to say to get Esther in good with them, and make them jealous because none of their grandchildren give them the time of day.