Page 45 of The Contract

But it also unsettles me.

Because for the first time tonight, I realize something.

She’s done this before.

She knowsexactlywhat she’s doing.

Some other fuckers before me paid for her time, for her to sell whatever fantasy they wanted, and all that practice is helping her deliver tonight’s performance.

I have to remind myself—again—who she is.

She’s an escort. A professional. This is what she does.

So why the fuck does it feel like she wasminefirst?

I shake the thought, forcing my focus back to the room.

Elena is deep in conversation with Mrs. Calloway, her tone warm, genuine, as they discuss charity work. It’s a stroke of fucking genius.

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” Elena says, tilting her head as if just placing it. “You were featured in a piece about the Global Future Fund’s Gala for Children’s Education.”

Mrs. Calloway visiblyglowsat the mention. “You read that article?”

Elena nods. “Of course. Your work with at-risk children is incredible. I volunteer often at St. James Orphanage, so I hope you know how far your reach extends.”

Marcus and I exchange a look. Neither of us uncovered this in our research.

Mrs. Calloway places her hand over Elena’s in a compassionate squeeze. She looks at her like she’s found akindred spirit.

Then she turns to me, her smile warm, her voice weighted. “Damien, you are one lucky man. A woman like this is one in a million. I hope you realize you’ve got quite a catch here.”

Elena’s hand rests on my thigh. A light touch. Measured. Controlled.

She tilts her head toward me slightly, her eyes holding mine just a beat too long.

My response is delayed.

I force myself to move, to react—my arm settling along the back of her chair, my fingers grazing the bare skin of her shoulder in a slow, deliberate stroke.

It’s forthem.

For the audience.

For the performance.

But that doesn’t explain why my fucking heart is hammering in my chest.

I clear my throat, offering Mrs. Calloway a smooth smile. “Nonsense. She’s worth it a hundred times over.”

The older woman beams, her approval locked in.

Elena shifts closer, just enough that I catch the faint scent of vanilla and somethingwarmer. Something I still can’t place.

Then—the question I’ve been waiting for.

“So, how did you two meet?”

Elena doesn’t hesitate.

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