I give Olivia a hug. “I love you, Livi.”
She hugs me back. “This conversation isn’t over,” she murmurs into my ear.
I nod once then retreat to my bedroom to get packed. My phone vibrates for the millionth time. When I glance at the screen, it shows it’s Bianca calling again.
“Hello.” I nestle the phone between my ear and shoulder while I grab a change of clothes and stuff them into my overnight bag.
“I’ve called you a dozen times.”
“I’m sorry. My mom’s nurse—”
“Giselle,” Bianca snaps, “I’m too busy to listen to your latest sob story. That’s what you have friends for. I was calling because I’m going to need you to come in tonight.”
I stop in my place. “I can’t tonight.” I squeeze my eyes shut as I wait for Bianca to yell at me.
“Then you’re fired,” she says in a calm voice which tells me she’s serious.
“Bianca…”
“You can go afterward. I only need you for a few hours.”
“Okay.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “What time?”
“A driver will be there to pick you up at your usual spot in thirty minutes. It’s black tie. I’ve sent you all the info you will need. Also, if it helps, because of it being last minute, you will be paid double.” She hangs up without a goodbye.
I finish packing and get dressed. The place is quiet, which means Olivia and Nick must’ve already left to the charity function. They’re bringing Reed with them, and once he’s tired, Olivia’s stepsister, Shelby, is going to take him home. I hate that I can’t be there for her tonight, especially since she spent all that money on my plate just so I could go.
After I step out of the elevator and head down the street, I call my mom to check on her, but she doesn’t pick up. I leave her a voicemail to let her know I will be by in a few hours to see her. When I see the limo parked and waiting for me, I tell her I love her and will see her soon.
I approach the vehicle and notice the driver is someone I’ve never seen before. And then it hits me that in my rush I didn’t check the info, so I have no clue who I’m going on a date with.
“Good evening, ma’am.” The driver bows slightly and smiles. I smile back before lifting my cocktail dress up slightly and sliding into the backseat. The door closes behind me, and I look to my right to see my date for the evening. Dark brown hair—thick and lustrous with blazing hazel eyes. His skin is flawless and his face is strong and defined with prominent cheek-bones. My gaze goes to his soft, sharp lips which are turned down in a scowl. He’s wearing an expensive suit that molds his body like it was made just for him, and it probably was. His tie is emerald green and gold. It brings out the tiny flecks of green in his eyes. It’s also the colors of the New York Brewers, which makes perfect sense, since the man wearing the tie is the receiver for that very same team.
My eyes glide back up and meet his, and his scowl deepens. “What the hell are you doing in my limo?”
“Apparently I’m your date.”
Nine
Killian
What is she doing here? In a shimmery silver dress and matching heels, why is Giselle Winters sitting next to me inside my limo? When Bianca, the owner of A Touch of Class, called my assistant an hour ago and said there was an issue with the escort who was supposed to be my date, she assured her that she would have someone else for me. My assistant notified me we would need to pick her up in Brooklyn Heights instead of in SoHo. I told her to forward the info to my driver. I was going through my emails on my phone when the limo driver parked, so I had no clue we were stopped only about four blocks from where Giselle and Olivia live. And I never imagined when the door opened who would be stepping into my limo.
“What the hell are you doing in my limo?” I ask way too harshly. But I can’t help it. The woman has been on my mind way too often lately, and being forced to spend an entire evening with her won’t help.
“Apparently I’m your date,” she slings back with a glare. “Who would’ve thought Killian Blake would resort to paying for a woman?”
“Who would’ve thought Giselle Winters would resort to whoring herself out?” Giselle’s face falls, and I regret my words. “I’m sorry,” I say. “That was uncalled for.”
“It’s the truth.” She shrugs, opening the door. “I’m a whore…just like Tabitha…you know, the woman you paid to accompany you to your event not long ago. But I bet you didn’t call her a whore.” Oh, shit! Now it makes sense. How Tabitha knew Giselle. They both work for the same escort service.