“What will it cost me?” I ask.
“Can’t be more than you were willing to give away for five hundred bucks, can it?” he asks, holding my glare. “You should really charge more.”
It’s late, I’m tired, and my eyes lower to the ground for a second. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” he says. “But I want you away from my father, so I figure I’ll get you a real job and . . .”
“Your father came to me,” I say.
“I’m aware of how it works.”
“Yeah, you seem to have all the answers,” I say sarcastically.
“At least we agree on that,” he says with a smile before motioning toward the business card. “This is the part where you thank me for helping you and getting you off the streets.”
“I’m not on the streets,” I bite out, “and I haven’t accepted your offer.”
His blue eyes narrow just a tad. “You will, for two very important reasons.” Before I can open my mouth to tell him to go to hell, he flashes me a full smile, making my heart pound. “For one, you don’t seem to have a whole lot of other options. And you’re holding the most important reason.”
He’s got my number, and he knows it. I was ready to sell my body to his father for this little boy. I’d do anything to give him a better life and keep him safe.
But sex for money is a straight-up transaction. A cut-and-dried deal. Yes, you might need to negotiate the terms of the sex, but what Slade is offering is different. It’s much more dangerous. It’s the unknown. And I get the feeling he doesn’t play by anyone’s rules.
“What skills do you have?” he asks. “Other than being beautiful.”
Our eyes meet with a different kind of heat this time. That was the last thing I expected him to say. I’d expect something more along the lines of, “Other than blow jobs and spreading your legs.”
“I’ve worked retail, fast food, mowed a few lawns.”
“Mowed lawns?” he asks, amusement in his voice. “Anything recently?”
“On the weekends, I clean office buildings at night. And during the day, I work a couple of shifts at a day care. They let me bring Finn, so it works out well.”
“His name is Finn?” he asks, reaching toward me before stopping himself. “What about you? What’s your name?”
“Paige. Paige Hudson.”
CHAPTER TWO
PAIGE
It only took me two days to yield to the will of Slade Turner. Well, two days and a double homicide on the second floor of my apartment building. After my call, Slade wasted no time sending a car for Finn and me. Yes, Finn. The car was equipped with a rear-facing infant car seat. He may be a pretentious prick, but that was a nice touch.
Of course, Finn loved it. Since I don’t have a car, he never actually had a car seat. He kicked and cooed and put on quite a show. I have no idea what today will bring because Slade didn’t tell me what position he had in mind for me. He simply asked me to meet him. That brought some anxiety, but I doubt it’s anything too risqué since I’m bringing the baby along.
This is a gamble, one where I don’t know the stakes. But when you’re holding a losing hand, you either fold or bluff, and I’m no quitter.
Looking down at my jeans and two sizes too big sweater, I’m hardly dressed for a job interview, but it’s the best I have. Finn, however, looks adorable in his baby jeans and onesie with a firetruck appliqué on it. You can find really cute baby clothes in consignment stores. I think it’s because babies grow so fast. They wear something for three months max before they outgrow it. At least that’s the way my little guy is.
I’m not sure what I expected today, but I certainly didn’t expect to leave the city limits of Nashville. After almost an hour, the city’s bustling streets have given way to the long, winding roads of the country. No longer flanked by sidewalks and skyscrapers, the stretch of road is now guided by wood fences. Occasionally, you can see a big, beautiful house in the distance settled back among the trees. Everything is green with hues of yellow mixed in. The sky is such a rich shade of blue it almost looks purple.
I’ve lived in cities my whole life. I wonder if it’s easier to be poor in the city or the country? They probably don’t have soup kitchens or public housing out here, but it’s beautiful. Beauty doesn’t fill the belly, but it feeds the soul. I grew up looking at cracked concrete and run-down buildings. Even the so-called “green” spaces were overgrown and filled with trash and litter.
I guess what they say is true. The grass is greener on the other side.
Turning, we pull up to the gates of a ranch. There are stone pillars to pass through, but no sign. Usually, these places have names, but there’s nothing. An egotistical man like Slade probably would’ve named it after himself. Maybe I just missed the sign.
The driver, Jon, the same goon who brought me home the other night, slowly rolls down a long stone driveway, and the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen comes into view. It looks like a cabin, only it’s one a millionaire would live in. I take that back. It almost looks like a church with its steep-pitched roof and windows that stretch across the entire front section of the house from the porch to the roofline, which is at least two stories high. Hopefully, my job isn’t to clean those suckers!
“This is where Slade lives?” I ask.
“He has a place in the city, so he’s usually just here on the weekends,” Jon says, eyeing me in the rearview mirror.
I avert my eyes, taking in the landscape of rolling hills on a canvas of green as far as the eye can see. “Look, Finn, horses,” I say, pointing out the car window. I’m clearly more excited about them than he is.
The car slows to a crawl, stopping in front of the house. I’m unbuckling Finn when Jon opens my door for me. Grabbing the diaper bag and the baby, I step out into the crisp and clean air. Apparently, the rich even have better air quality.
Jon heads for the front door, snapping me from my oxygen envy, and I follow him into what can only be described as the most luxurious treehouse. Windows line the back of the house as well, showcasing acres and acres of rolling hills and trees, making it seem like I’m floating in the forest.
“This way,” Jon says.
I follow him, my eyes still on that view, barely glancing at the wooden beams making up the vaulted ceiling or the incredible furnishings. We step through a butler’s pantry and into a kitchen, if you can even call it that. It’s huge. The wooden beams extend in here, and the ceiling is just as high. The cabinets look crafted out of old vintage wood, and the island is bigger than my bed at home.
Jon walks over to a beautiful woman with bronzed-colored skin and eyes that match. He kisses her on top of the head, then gives her belly a little pat. “Paige, this is my wife, Catrine.”
“Oh my! Look how cute he is,” she says. When she gets to her feet, a pronounced baby bump comes into view. “I’m having a boy, too. What’s his name?”
“Finn,” I say as she picks up his chubby little foot, giving him a little tickle. “He’s five months old.”
She smiles up at me. “Jon and I can’t agree on names to save our lives. I think we’ll be calling this little guy Chewie forever,” she says, making me laugh a little. “Jon’s a Star Wars fan.”