With that, I hurry out of the office. Goddamn, what if Simona hates me and decides to leave? I was surly and rude, when inside, I didn’t even really mean the things I said. But that’s the thing - Simona doesn’t know that, and she was probably wounded to the quick. Fuck my life. Hurrying home, I pause only to buy chrysanthemums, chocolate, and a bottle of merlot. Hopefully, she’ll soften a bit when I arrive bearing gifts.
“Simona?” I call into the penthouse. “I got out early!”
But the space is completely silent when I step inside. What the hell? Something’s wrong and my home shouldn’t feel this empty. My voice echoes again in the cavernous space as the blood in my veins goes icy. I throw the flowers and chocolate onto the couch and literally run from room to room like a desperate child. But only silence greets me, and stunned, I drop on the sofa, boneless and in shock.
I’m a fucking idiot. I am a complete, fucking idiot. How could I have said all of those awful things? The look in the pretty brunette’s eyes almost killed me when she heard, and I’d do anything to take them back now. She probably wants a family with a dozen kids, just like my brother and his wife, and my heart twists with pain.
Then I jump up and fumble around for my phone. I swear, City Girls gave me her home address way back when I first hired her. Here it is. I stare, mentally assessing the address. It’s in Hell’s Kitchen, which isn’t exactly a nice neighborhood, but fuck that. Within minutes, I’m in an Uber on my way to confront the girl of my dreams.
Her apartment building leaves a lot to be desired, but I manage to follow another resident inside and dash up to the fifth floor. I raise my fist to pound on the wood, but then stop myself. This is no way to confront Simona. She’d just think I was crazy, and she wouldn’t be wrong.
Slowly, I force my hand down and take a step back before breathing in and out deeply. I need to come off as calm and rational, not to mention remorseful. Once I have my emotions under control, only then do I knock.
Seconds tick by as I wait for the door to open. Eventually, the wood creaks, and then suddenly, she appears. Simona looks gorgeous with her curvy figure and curly brown hair, even if she also looks tired and pale in a thin robe.
“James?” she asks in a tinny voice, her eyes puzzled. “What are you doing here?”
I wince. “I wanted to see you,” is my lame reply.
She looks down for a moment, but then sighs.
“Fine. Come in,” she says in a short tone, opening the door wide enough for me to enter. Her studio apartment is laughably cramped, but I don’t care about that. All I care about is making amends with this beautiful girl whom I hurt needlessly. She means the world to me, and yet like a jackass, I went and completely screwed it up for no reason.
We sit at a miniature dining room as Simona prepares a kettle of tea. When it’s on the stove, she turns to me.
“So why did you come here?” she asks with no preamble. “As you can see, I left the penthouse with no intention of coming back. I left all the clothes and jewelry you purchased, and of course, I don’t expect to be paid anymore.”
I take a deep breath.
“Listen—”
But she shakes her head.
“No, you don’t need to explain, James. We had an arrangement set up by the agency, and I’ve decided to terminate the relationship. You’ve paid me more than enough for my time, and if anything, I’ve been over-compensated. So thank you for that,” she says simply. “But we’re done.”
Her features are pale, but she speaks with such authority that my heart breaks.
“Simona,” I begin again. “Let me explain for just one second.”
She turns to the stove once more, showing me her back.
“You don’t have to James,” she says. “No explanation needed.”
I huff out with displeasure.
“No, you’re going to listen,” I say in a tight voice as she turns back around and sets a teacup in front of me. “Sweetheart, I behaved atrociously last night.”
The small disinterested shrug she gives almost kills me.
“No, it’s fine. What we had? It was just business. We’re only together because I’m an escort, remember? So really, James. I mean it when I say no explanation needed.”
“That’s not it,” comes my growl, and I shake my head with frustration. “Simona, you were never just a transaction for me. Not even in the beginning.”
Her pupils dilate a bit, even though she remains perfectly still.
“It’s true,” I continue fiercely. “I would never have introduced you to my family if I wasn’t serious about you.” I reach across the table for her hand, but she somehow manages to avoid my touch. It’s going to be like that, huh? I run a hand through my hair and take a few deep breaths, trying to gather my wits. I feel like I’m in the ninth inning of the World Series, my heart’s racing so fast.