Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(53)

I motioned for the bartender’s attention. “A glass of your Ripasso, please.”

“Sorry, I’m late.” Ellen didn’t look at me as she gripped the edge of her stool. The bar was crowded, and I thought it might be adding to her nerves.

I placed a hand on her knee, hoping the touch would ground her. “You’re one of the few people I’d wait for.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, finally giving me her eyes. She had no idea of the power she wielded.

The barman placed her wine in front of her and she downed almost half of it in one gulp. “I almost didn’t come,” she confessed.

“I would’ve been terribly disappointed if you hadn’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

I caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “I never say something unless I mean it.”

“Okay.” Her voice was breathy.

I allowed her to concentrate on her wine, giving her a few moments to settle. She broke the silence when she blurted, “Do you know you have the name of a Jane Austen hero?”

I glanced at her, amused. “I don’t recall there being a Julian Fairchild in Pride and Prejudice.”

“Not your actual name. What I mean is, Julian Fairchild sounds like a Jane Austen name. It’s like, the name of a well-bred gentleman.”

I smirked. “How very ironic.”

“You don’t think you’re a gentleman?”

“Not in the traditional sense, especially since I plan on doing some very ungentlemanly things to you tonight.”

She looked away bashfully, lifted her glass with a shaky hand and downed the last of it. I thought perhaps a change of scenery was in order. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, but I’m too nervous to eat.”

“Eating might counteract your nerves. Would you like to go to the restaurant or would you prefer room service?”

She still wouldn’t look at me when she replied, “R-room service.”

I smiled because it was the answer I’d been hoping for. I left some money on the bar to pay for our drinks then helped her down from the stool. I took her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together as I led her out into the lobby to the bank of lifts.

“This is so strange,” she muttered quietly.

I arched an eyebrow. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Her eyes widened. “No, no. I’m definitely going through with this.”

I chuckled as we stepped onto the lift and I pressed the button for the tenth floor. “You sound like you’re about to have a tooth pulled at the dentist.”

Ellen winced. “I do, don’t I?”

Several other people got on and we stood in silence as the floors went up. I kept her hand firmly grasped in mine as I bent to whisper in her ear, “You look beautiful tonight. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“Julian,” she hissed, eyes widening.

My smile was playful. “Relax. Nobody heard me.”

When we reached our floor, I led her down the hall to our room.

“Is this how you usually operate?” she asked. “You meet at a hotel?”

“Sometimes I go to clients’ houses, but I prefer hotels. It’s a neutral middle ground.”

“You never bring them to your flat?”

I opened the door with my key card, gesturing for her to step inside. “No. You’re the only client who’s ever been to my home.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her expression thoughtful. “Is that problematic?”

“Not unless you plan on stalking me.” Ironic, since I was the one who’d semi-stalked her not too long ago. I kept that information to myself, for now.

She gave a soft giggle. “I don’t have any current or future plans to stalk you, you have my word. Besides, I’d be terrible at it.”

I shot her a flirty look. “I disagree. You’re a master of disguise.”

She swiped my shoulder. “Shut up. Elodie’s the only disguise I’ve mastered, and she hardly blends into the scenery.”

“You’re right, she stands out,” I said, gently pulling on her hair tie so that her curls fell around her shoulders. “So, does Ellen,” I went on quietly. Her gaze was on my hand, eyelids lowering. She blinked then stepped away, took a deep breath.

“So, room service?”

“Menu’s by the bed. Order whatever you like.”

She walked woodenly across the room and I knew I still had my work cut out getting her to relax. It was expected, since she’d only ever been with one person. This was all new and scary to her.

Ellen sat on the edge of the bed, the menu on her lap, her tone deceptively casual when she asked, “Have you ever slept with a virgin before?”

I sat down on the armchair by the window, crossed one leg over the other and clasped my palms together. I hadn’t been with many virgins, or near-virgins, in Ellen’s case, but I had been with a few. It wasn’t something I shied away from, merely a fact of life. Everyone had to have a first time at one point or another.

“Several, yes.”

She still didn’t look at me. “Were they clients or…”

“Most of them were clients.”

Now she glanced up. “So, they hired you for the specific purpose of losing their virginity?”