The Master Read Free

life,
querido
?” Sweetheart.
    He wasn’t budging. “You’re not what I ordered.”
    I, above all people, knew that you shouldn’t have to pay for something you never asked for. I had a flash memory of Edward edging toward his gun, moments after declaring his love for
me.
    “Are you even of legal age?” the Russian grated.
    “And then some.”
    He looked unmoved.
    I’d read and reread
Getting to Yes
, and I thought I could finagle one night out of this guy. But then, was I really ready to take this step? “I can’t change your
mind?”
    When his expression grew even colder, I was glad he was about to kick me out. I would make a better outlaw than I would an escort.
Outlaw? Give it time, Cat.
    In a stern tone, he said, “I never reverse myself on decisions.”
    I shrugged. “Okay, your loss.” How confident I sounded! Like a working-girl pro. Relieved, I turned toward the door, sauntering away—
    I thought I heard him hiss in a breath.
    Mierda.
Knowing my luck, I’d split the seam in my dress.

CHAPTER 2

    “P
erhaps I was . . . hasty,” he said. “Stay for a drink.”
    Had my ass worked for me? Was I happy about this?
    When I turned and traipsed back, he headed to the bar area. This was actually happening. I was going to have sex for money.
    Over his shoulder, he said, “I’m Maksimilian Sevastyan.”
    I turned it over on my tongue, finding his name a mouthful. In my mind, I styled him
Máxim
.
    “
Encantada.
Nice to meet you. I’m Cat Marín.” I glanced around for my donation. Nothing. Which made me uneasy, but I gamely bellied up to the bar.
    “Is that your working name?”
    My alias. “That’s what they call me.” And that was what my fake ID said, whenever I was forced to use it.
    I’d chosen my grandmother’s name of Catarina, and her mother’s name of Marín, and then I’d assumed the identity completely. Though I missed being Lucía,
that life was like a distant dream.
    “What do you drink?”
    Good question. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had alcohol. Maybe beer after a 5K race? “Um, whatever you’re having.”
    “Vodka martini?” Probably not a good idea. “You must have a preferred cocktail.”
    I was about to say something stupid, like “Sex on the Beach!” but instead said, “White wine would be great.”
    “You seem uneasy.”
    I admitted, “I’m a little new to all of this.”
    “Uh-huh. I’ve booked many escorts. Not one has ever said she’s been at this awhile.”
    He thought I was lying. I was the world’s shittiest liar. Early on, I’d realized that anytime I’d been put into a position to tell an untruth, I’d resented it so much, I
would stew for days. So I’d just stopped doing it. “I’m not lying to you.”
    He waved my words away, turning to the wine collection.
    As he investigated the offerings, I studied him up close. He was clean-shaven, with smooth skin that looked newly tanned, but he had no laugh lines around his eyes. Weird. No wedding-ring tan
line either. At least he was single.
    His lips were firm, his white teeth even. A wide masculine jawline complemented his strong nose and chin, his broad cheekbones. His hair was close-cut on the sides, longer on the top. What would
it feel like to run my fingers through it?
    “There’s a cellar somewhere on this floor, but I think you’ll like this wine.” When he uncorked the bottle, his muscles moved beneath his thin sweater. He wore a diving
watch that probably cost more than my rat-trap apartment complex.
    The only thing that could compete with the view of him was the view outside. The wraparound balcony had small torches along its clear glass railing. Past an infinity pool that I would kill to
experience, I could see the ocean. A nearly full moon hung heavy in the sky.
    “Go take a look.” He poured a glass and handed it to me. “I’ll meet you outside.”
    I wasn’t supposed to do anything until I got paid, but after a quick risk/reward assessment, I said,