Page 9 of Sapphire Storm

Ethan sighed. “I think we should maybe draw this meeting toa close. For now. If you want to talk more, I’m here for you. Just not when I’mat work. This is…not how we should do this.”

The guy huffed with laughter and gave Ethan an expressioncold as ice. “Oh, no. I’d much rather we talk about it when you’re at work.Maybe your bosses would like to hear about it too.” The emphasis he placed onthe last word vibrated with menace.

An older version of Ethan took over, the version who couldinstantly grab the wrist of a client who’d made the mistake of taking him bythe arm, seizing it with enough strength to let the guy know any attempt torestrain him would end in broken bones. Roman wasn’t touching him now, but hiswords contained a threat all their own.

As Ethan closed the distance between them, the expression onhis face chased the cocky swagger from Roman Walker’s.

“All right, look, kid. If you think this is step one in yourdazzling little revenge plot, let me be very clear about something. I wasn’t athirsty porn star who posted some dick pics on Rentboy and lived off sketchyairport hotel clients for a few months. I was an escort for years in one of themost cutthroat cities on the planet, and I pulled down six figures annually. Myclients flew me all over the world. Two of them are senators now. I never had apimp, and not once was I manhandled or coerced into something I didn’t agreeto.

“So if you think you’re going to take another run at me, Mr.Walker, you better have an excellent plan. Because what you’ve got right now isa young man who used his rich, famous boss to lure me, an employee of thishotel, into a room alone where you sexually harassed me. And that’s not goingto play well if I head downstairs and share that story with my boss. And it’sgoing to play even worse on Twitter if Diana Peyton’s name gets tied up in it.Got it,Roman?”

They were nose to nose now.

“Keep her name out of your mouth,” Roman whispered.

“Save it, Will Smith. But if you’d like some professionaladvice on how to manage your only client, I’d be happy to provide some. It’sthe least I can do.”

Roman gasped and took a step back. “What the hell does thatmean?”

“You rolled in here in a Bentley most CEOs can’t afford, andyou’re atrainerwho lives in an oceanfront mansion in Laguna Beach.What do you think it means, hot stuff?”

“I’m not a whore.”

“Yet.”

Roman shook his head at the floor, struggling for breath.Diana Peyton, it seemed, was a topic as sensitive as his cheating dad. He grabbedhis jacket off the floor, punched his arms through the sleeves, and brushedpast Ethan, bound for the door. Then Roman Walker, formerly Ronnie Burton, wasgone. And suddenly the flickering candles all around him seemed ridiculous andin danger of setting the vast suite aflame.

4

Yet.

How could one word—one very short word—fill Roman’s boneswith anger, forcing him to clench his fists as he stormed through SapphireCove’s marble-floored lobby?

It wasn’t the word, he realized as he shoved his ticket atthe approaching valet, it was the tone Ethan Blake—aka Michael the hooker—hadfilled it with.

So dismissive. Sodamnsuperior.

Like he knew everything there was to know.

And everything there was to know said Roman was a moron.

He fired out of Sapphire Cove’s motor court so fast thevalet jumped back to get out of the Bentley’s path.Guess I’m stillRestless Ronnie.It was the nickname his mother had given him after theyleft the quaint, leafy streets of Scarsdale and his cheating father in theirwake, after he took to the desert expanses of their new home like an explorerin search of buried treasure.More like Raging Ronnie,he thought andslammed on the gas.

To most Southern Californians, Victorville was a blip ofsunbaked strip malls they blew through on the drive to Vegas. But to littleRonnie Burton, uprooted from everything familiar, all that open land combinedwith the nearby San Bernardino Mountains became a sparkling kingdom of naturalwonders and magical secrets. He ran, he biked, he scaled giant rocks. He stayedup past his bedtime making hand-drawn maps of the terrain he explored. It wasduring those explorations that a love of physical fitness, a hunger for pushinghis young body to the limit, was born. Endurance became the key to his onlyreal freedom after his father’s betrayal took his old life away.

And even though he wasn’t on foot, that’s why he decided totake the long way home now, driving east and inland toward the nearest freeway,hoping its lanes would be free of traffic so he could put his pedal to themedal and roam.

Yet,yet,yet.He slammedthe steering wheel with the side of one fist, hoping the pain would keep theword from burning a hole in his mind. Hoping to jar his tears back intosubmission.

The whole thing would have been easier if Ethan Blake hadrun from the room or denied it, and Roman would have had an excuse to do thethings he’d wanted to all the time ever since his mom haddied—yelland scream and lose his shit.

Instead, the man had proved thepolaroppositeof his mom, who in the years after the divorce had turned awayfrom any difficult subject, especially his dad. Sometimes she’d do itphysically, sometimes with a change of subject defined by her constant, naggingworries.

Do you ever hear from him, Momma?

You’re not smoking weed, are you, Ron? It’s not asharmless as they say.

Lucy Russo, the queen of convenient non-sequiturs.

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