Chapter Twenty-Four

Ticktock, ticktock, the time was counting down.

Barely able to climb from her bed, her muscles were so sore, Jewell somehow managed to stumble into her bathroom. Though he’d told her yesterday that he was taking the rest of the week off , she hoped that after their tiff Blake would be at work the entire day and that she could cross one more day with him off her calendar.

After showering, she made her way painfully down the stairs and went straight to the coffeepot. The apartment was quiet and she was relieved to realize she was alone. He was his own boss, so he could take any day off he wanted — like yesterday — and she simply couldn’t predict what the man might decide to do next. It threw her too far off balance for her comfort. But today he must have gone to his headquarters. She would be free at least until the evening.

As she finished her first cup of coffee, she heard the familiar ding of her phone — the darn thing was sitting on the kitchen counter — and she grimaced.

She needed just five more minutes, maybe one hour, to wake up and get her armor in place before speaking to Blake. Please, she begged, please… But when it dinged again almost immediately, she knew that to avoid whatever he had to say would be foolish. And it would be texting, nothing more.

She was still going to assert some shred of independence. She went over to the coffeepot first, filled her cup, and added a nice splash of cream to it before taking a sip. The third message came in and she finally forced herself to go over to her phone.

Good morning, Jewell, I hope you slept well.

That message confused her. He’d been such a jackass the day before; why would he send something civilized like that? It made no sense to her. Maybe the man was bipolar. Or maybe he even suffered from multiple personality disorder. That wouldn’t surprise her in the least.

Be ready in one hour. I’ll be picking you up.

Her stomach tightened. She didn’t want to spend the day with him. It was going to be awkward and unpleasant, and she would just end up feeling bad about herself again. It could be a lot worse, though. She had to remind herself of the stories she’d heard from the other escorts. At least she wasn’t being tied up to things and flogged, or being forced to have sicko sex in front of an audience.

Get over your tantrum, Jewell, and get ready… Now!

Tantrum? What freaking universe did he inhabit? Or did he own a special cyber helmet that made every jerky thing he did look and smell like roses?

Fine! Jewell punched in each of those letters in her one-word response with no little savagery, and dropped the phone on the counter, delighting when it bounced. She took her coffee cup with her back up the stairs and walked into her closet to find clothes. She had no idea what he was planning and didn’t know how to dress, so she chose a skirt that came halfway down her thighs, and a tank top that revealed her back but at least didn’t show most of her breasts. She wouldn’t make it into a “sideboob” photo gallery.

Forty-five minutes later, she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock on the front door, and she rolled her eyes. It wouldn’t take long for her to discover what was coming up next in this weeklong adventure with Blake.

“Hello, Jewell. You look lovely today, but you always do.”

She stood there dumbfounded. He was behaving so differently than he normally did when he was around her. Was this a trick? She had no clue what to think right now.

He smiled as if knowing he was confusing her, and approached her with the confidence she’d come to expect from him. “When a person says hello and offers a compliment, the correct response is usually to offer a greeting in return.”

Then he pulled her into his arms and, before she was able to say a word, he kissed her. It wasn’t a greedy assault on her mouth, but a soft, drugging kiss that made her legs tremble in weakness. When he moved back and looked into her eyes, she found she was still too stunned to speak. It had now been an uncomfortable, silent couple of minutes, and she really felt stupid.

“We’re going out today for a walk,” he said, and released her to wobble on her own as he grabbed her light jacket, which was hanging on the back of the chair. She still hadn’t said a word as he helped her slip it on.

Finally, she found her voice. “What is going on?”

“Nothing. I told you I was taking the week off, but I needed to go in for a few hours to take care of things. I’ve finished and now I want to stretch my legs,” he said, and he led her out the front door.

“It’s not much of a week off if you still go in to the offices,” she pointed out.

“I’m the owner. There are certain things that only my brothers or I can do.”

She was surprised he was even bothering to explain any of this to her. She was surprised by his attitude change altogether. He was almost treating her like a human being instead of his plaything. She would do best to remember this wasn’t typical.

They made their way outside, where his driver, Max, was waiting. Jewell said nothing as he helped her into the backseat and then joined her. They drove for several hours, chatting about nothing of importance, and she finally found herself relaxing in his presence. She didn’t even care where they were going. He’d said a walk, but so far the only walking they’d done had been from the elevator to the car.

When the driver stopped, then quickly came around and opened her door, she was surprised to find herself at a winery and vineyard.

“We’re going to a fundraiser tomorrow night, as you know. I thought I would give you a sampling of good wines while we stretched our legs.”

Blake obviously thought she was a newbie to any wine that needed a corkscrew to open, but she wasn’t going to get all huffy about it. He was pretty much right.

Soon the two of them moved through the vineyard. They stopped at several stations to taste the local wines associated with each variety of grape being grown, some of which left a sour taste in her mouth, and some of which she wanted much more of.

After an hour, he led her to a private balcony off the main lodge restaurant, where a table was already set with wineglasses; food arrived not long thereafter.

“I’ve spent some time mulling over what you said yesterday, Jewell, and I think I jumped too quickly to an unfavorable conclusion.”

Her heart started thundering. Did he believe her? She was too fearful to even voice the question.

His next words made her glad she hadn’t.

“Though I don’t believe your story, I do believe that there’s a story you aren’t sharing with me. I would like to know what it is,” he said levelly.

She’d had so many tastes of wine — she really should have spit them out like the experts! — that she had to fight past the fog her brain was in. Sure, the glasses had been small and they were far from full, but she must have had the equivalent of four to six full glasses. She really needed to eat some of the food before her if she wanted to come close to keeping up with him.

“I thought you told me you didn’t care about my story, Blake.”

“I shouldn’t care in the least, Jewell, but oddly enough, I find myself wanting to know more about you.”

“Why? Our time is nearly up — as if I need to remind you of that again. There’s nothing else you need to know about me.” She picked up a piece of bread and began eating it, hoping it would soak up some of the alcohol she’d already downed. She didn’t dare touch the wineglass in front of her.

“Just because our time is almost up doesn’t mean we can’t have a conversation. Sunday hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Well, I just want to get through the next few days,” she told him. Those words were truer than any other she’d spoken to him.

His smile evaporated and he looked at her intently. “I am trying to be pleasant. I don’t appreciate it that you’re not putting in the effort to do the same.”

“You can’t just flip a switch all of a sudden and expect me to pour out my heart to you. It was only a few days ago that you told me to do my job and not to even think of feeling anything about you.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind about that,” he said.

She looked at him in utter horror. That had to be sarcasm; it couldn’t be anything else.

His eyes turned a bit colder after seeing her response, but otherwise showed no emotion. “So you would rather I treat you as nothing but an object, something I’ve bought — no, rented?”

“Yes, I do. That would be best for both of us.”

“Fine, Jewell. You want that. You have it,” he said, and a dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes.

Their lunch was forgotten. Blake stood and held out a hand, not as a courtesy but as a command. Her stomach dipped. But she took his hand, and when she did, she swayed on her feet. Where was he going to lead her?

When they ended up in a small basement room in the large house overlooking the winery, she felt panic coming on. And with reason.

“Strip for me, Jewell. That’s what you’re so good at.”

The color drained from her face. She was a prostitute. It was for the best that he was reminding her of that fact. Trying to erase all thoughts, all emotions, to become nothing but a robot, a sex toy, she began taking off her clothes. That only dim lanterns lit the room was of small consolation.

By the time they left, Blake had stripped another piece of her soul away.