“Don’t feign sweet innocence. Don’t act all shy and submissive…”
Submissive.
He said submissive.
He’s a dom.
I fucking knew it!
“…Grandfather fooled, but not me.”
“Huh?” Stupid day dreams. “Sorry. Could you say that last line one more time?”
His lips thin and he pulls in a deep breath through his nose. What I’d give for his nostril to clog up… “I said, that little act you performed earlier might have my Grandfather fooled, but not me.”
“What are you talking about? What act?”
“I’ve seen your true form. Remember that.”
I draw my head back and look at him like he’s lost his friggin’ mind. I’m sure I have three chins in this position, but I don’t care. “Your true form? Who the hell talks like that? What does that even mean?”
“You’re prancing around my house in my goddamned towel, answering my fucking door, charming my Grandfather into believing you’re some sort of saint.” He pokes his chest every time he says my. I look at the red spot forming. He’ll definitely bruise there.
I must’ve said that out loud. Because he laughs. Without humor. Don’t think that’s possible? It is. It’s a bark-type laugh that people do when they find something unbelievable and have no words to say. Of course Jake always has something to say.
“You’re un-fucking-believable.”
“Um, no. What’s unbelievable is that being an asshole really is hereditary. You should be proud. You and your grandfather proved a theory. I mean, even if I was an escort for hire, he didn’t have to be such a prick about it. I’m glad Miss Sims wasn’t here to listen to all those awful things he said about putting a price on one’s dignity.”
“You finished yet?”
“No. I’m not. Why do you need to hire someone anyway? You’re like…rich. And hot. You could have any woman in Chicago.”
“I got this, Jake.” Cam leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You see, Penelope, important people like Jake here don’t casually date. He doesn’t even have any female friends. Hell he barely has any male friends. He’s all work and no play. Which is why it’s both convenient and necessary for him to use an exclusive, very discreet, private escort service when they need a…female companion. Like for holiday functions. Balls, galas, charity parties…” He looks at Jake and smirks. “Grandfather’s retirement ceremony.”
But Jake is looking at me. As if he’s anticipating my reaction. I try to remain indifferent. On the inside, I’m doing cartwheels. “So he hired Miss Sims to attend his grandfather’s retirement party?”
“Yes. Although Miss Sims is a just a generic name we use. It rolls off the tongue a bit better than escort. Or…whore.”
“I still don’t see why he can’t just ask like a friend or a colleague. Or why doesn’t he just go alone?”
“He is sitting right here,” Jake says, and damn it I don’t want to, but I turn to look at him. And when I see his beautiful, chiseled face, I can’t stop the questions from coming. I know I shouldn’t ask. I know it’ll piss him off. But this is important. I have to know.
“Do you use the escort service because they have to sign a NDA?” His brows draw together in confusion, but he doesn’t ask me to elaborate. He doesn’t have to. “Is it because you have a secret sex fetish you don’t want people to know about? I can see how discretion is important for a man of your…status.” He stiffens. I should reassure him. “I’m not judging.” I cross my finger over my heart. “This is strictly for research. I promise.”
“Research?”
“Yeah. You know…for my book.”
He nods slowly as if he just remembered I’m a published author with four thousand followers and eighty-three reviews on Goodreads. Four-star average, thank you very much. “Your last one didn’t do too well. Is that why you want to put me in this one? You hope people might actually buy it?”
I ignore his jab. “I don’t want to put you, you in it. Just someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Do you even know who I am?”
“Of course I do,” I lie.
“Enlighten me.”
Shit.
“Well, I mean, I know your type.”
“My type?”
I shrug. “Rich. Single. Works too much. Takes life too serious. Controlling. Ambitious. Secretly generous.” I take a breath. “You’re driven. Independent. Loyal. You have a soft spot for your mom. An issue with your father. And you’ve spent your life trying to get out of your Grandfather’s shadow.”
“I’m inferior to no one.”
“But you don’t have your Grandfather’s respect.”
“I have his respect.”
I tilt my head and study him through narrowed eyes. “Do you?”
He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Or that vein that’s about to pop out of his forehead. “I know you too, Penelope Hart.”
I thought I’d melt hearing him say my name. But all I feel is the ball of nerves in my throat that threatens to choke me. I’d blurted out my thoughts on his personal life with no regard to how they might make him feel. And now he was about to do the same to me.