The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair #1)(45)

Maybe it’s not as bad as I’m imagining. Maybe I can get a gig where all I have to do is be arm candy, like I did with Dominic? A courtesan. It’s a profession as old as time.

I don’t want to think about Dominic anymore. I need to take action, to feel like I’m the one in control again. In the upper right-hand corner of the website, I click a button that says APPLY. I can always change my mind later if it doesn’t feel right.

Taking a deep breath, I start filling out the online form. I just don’t know whether to pray for acceptance or rejection by the mysterious Allure.

? ? ?

The next morning, I fold up my blankets and then settle back on the couch with a cup of coffee and my laptop. An email from Allure has appeared in my in-box overnight. My heart rate jumps a little just at the sight of it. I hesitate, then click to open it.

The message is short:

Dear Presley,

I would like to meet for a brief interview. Would this morning at ten work for you?

Thank you,

Gia

Underneath is an automated signature listing her title as OWNER.

I check the time and suppress a loud curse. Thank God I naturally wake up early. I only have an hour to get ready and make it to an interview across town.

I’ve just clicked reply to let Gia know I’ll be there when the front door opens. I startle and whirl around like I’ve been caught doing something illegal—which isn’t far from the truth.

Jesus, calm down, it’s just Bianca. You know, the person who actually lives here?

“Man, I’m so glad to see you.” Bianca sighs as she shrugs out of her coat and hangs it up. “You’ve been working so much lately. You want to get something to eat and watch bad reality TV with me?” Then she pauses, taking in my wild expression. “Are you okay?”

Not at all. “Everything’s fine. Just, uh, I gotta do some work stuff this morning.” That’s not a complete lie. After all, escorting might be my new job from now on. “But I can hang out later if you want?”

Bianca appraises me and then gives me a slow nod. “Sure. That sounds good.”

I shower at warp speed, hesitate for a minute about clothes before yanking on the same suit I wore for my Aspen interview, skip breakfast, and then pray for the bus to be on time all the way there.

Allure’s offices are in a totally normal-looking office tower. The décor is bland and the elevator plays soft jazz music. What did you expect, a drunken orgy? I chide myself.

At the fifth floor, a receptionist waits behind a sleek, polished white desk. She flashes me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good morning. How can I help you?”

Suddenly, I feel young and inexperienced, and completely unsure about what I’m doing here. I almost consider turning around and returning to the safety of the elevator. Instead, I straighten my shoulders and take a deep breath.

“Hi. I’m Presley . . . um, I have an appointment with Gia at ten?”

“Ah, yes, Miss Harper.” She stands up. “Right this way. Would you like coffee or tea?”

“N-no, that’s okay, but thank you for offering.”

I follow her down the burgundy-carpeted hall to an oak door that wouldn’t look out of place in Aspen’s offices. She knocks, waits for the occupant to call out, “Come in,” and opens the door.

If I’d thought the receptionist was glamorous, the woman standing by the window is astonishing. Gia is tall, statuesque, without a single, dark hair out of place. Her designer dress and heels probably cost more than my first car. I would guess that she’s in her forties at the oldest, but maybe she’s had work done. She clearly has the money for it.

Gia looks me up and down, blatantly assessing my appearance, then smiles and gestures to the leather chair in front of her desk. “Please have a seat.”

Trying not to be intimidated and failing badly, I obey. The door clicks shut as the receptionist exits.

Gia sits behind her desk, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “Your application said you have a bachelor’s degree. From where did you graduate?”

I force myself to stop wringing my hands. Breathe, Presley. This is just another job interview. You know how to do those. “Brown University.”

“What field did you study?” Gia asks.

“I majored in economics.” I start to relax a little at how ordinary this is.

“And what are your goals regarding your career?”

With barely a pause between questions, Gia interrogates me on everything I mentioned on my application, plus a few things she must have searched the Internet for.

Finally, she asks, “Why did you apply to Allure?”

My mouth dries up. “Uh, I thought, because . . . I work hard, I’m a quick learner, and . . .”

Gia laughs for the first time. “You’re allowed to say money, dear. Pretty much every girl in this industry has the same reason. People have expenses. Sometimes their life circumstances don’t permit more conventional employment, and it’s not crass to admit that.”

“Oh. Well, then . . . yes, it’s money. I’m supporting my brother through college, and my internship is—” Probably shot straight to hell. “—unpaid, but it’s also full-time, so I haven’t been able to find a second job that works around those hours.”

“You weren’t lying when you said you were a hard worker.” Before I can figure out how to take that, Gia changes topics. “I want to assure you that nothing sexual will happen on these ‘dates’. Escorts aren’t slaves; I sell the company of attractive, interesting women, not the right to their bodies. Although you should keep in mind that the happier clients are, the more generous their tips will be.” She smiles demurely while I try to read between the lines. “I won’t guarantee that a client will never, ever try anything inappropriate, but you can report them to me, and they’ll be banned from Allure. Now, are you still interested?”