Page 12 of Nova

“Sorry about that, Mr. Deacon?” My name on her lips snaps me back from my thoughts.

“Yes, is everything alright?” I want to pry, and dammit, that makes me mad as hell.

I care if she’s okay.

Caring is a work hazard. It’s the number one rule in my line of work. No feelings.

“Yes, thanks for asking. You were saying you could refer me,” I cut her off.

“That won’t be necessary. I can fit you in depending on the timing of your event. I’m assuming you won’t object to cutting the evening short?” I tap the pencil on the open calendar.

“That would be great, actually.” I smile to myself.

“Prefect. We just need to verify my price. Where is the event, how long will I be staying, and will any public displays of affection be necessary?” I lean back in my chair and wait.

“Toronto,” She pauses as if waiting for me to say no immediately.

“Not a problem. I do have a passport.” I arch my eyebrow when she doesn’t speak right away.

If I’m not careful, my face is going to freeze like this.

“Do you…never mind.” I wait to see if she’ll elaborate, but of course, she doesn’t.

Why would I be privy to her private thoughts?

I grind my molars because I need to know everything about this woman.

“Um, three hours tops and maybe hand-holding. Kiss on the cheek? I guess I’ll need a ring to tie the whole lie together.” That last, I’m sure, she meant for herself.

“I have that covered.” I glance at the top drawer of my desk and can’t fathom putting one of my many rings from previous jobs on her finger.

“Oh, okay.” She can’t hide the tone of surprise in her voice.

“I would need to return to see to my other clients that evening. So with travel expenses, my fee would be three thousand.” She curses.

“Fuck, really?” I stay quiet.

“Sex does sell rather well. Fine.” I ground my molars and narrow my eyes.

She asks a few more questions that I hastily answer before I get her email and tell her to wait for my invoice before hanging up abruptly so I don’t say anything I regret.

“Shit,” I run my hands through my hair.

That weekend just got really fucking busy for a client that clearly doesn’t approve of my work. So why am I breaking my back to do this?

Oh, that’s right.

She’s the fucking reason I’ve been popping Viagra like it’s candy. The woman has invaded every cell in my body. I have to see where this will go or regret it for my whole life.

I’m questioning my sanity as I send the invoice.

Less than five minutes later, she sends over the payment and her ring size, and I smile when I see her full name on her email signature, then frown when I notice the business she works for.

“Oh fuck,” why must my life be so fucking complicated?

Simone Gauthier, VP of Social Media at Sins.

I bring up the most notorious tabloid magazine and go to the About section, and there he is, or should I say they are?

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