The Master Read Free Page B

world away from the last pictures taken of me, when I was still
a teenager.
    “You’re twenty-six?”
    Ivanna had inflated the number. “Old enough to know better.”
    Máxim peered at my breasts. “Measurements: thirty-five, twenty-three, thirty-
six
?”
    “Thirty-four and a half on a good day. I didn’t put that up either. I like my size.” I could go braless if I wanted to, but could still produce cleavage when necessary.
    His brows drew together. I got the impression he was trying to fit me into a box, and having unexpected difficulties.
    I could’ve told him,
My ass won’t fit, yo
.
    “You have a marked accent. Not native to the States?”
    “I grew up in a Spanish-speaking household.” With
una madre loca
, Catholic to the core. Despite her refusal to learn English, she’d homeschooled me until high school and
kept most people away from our secluded beach. I didn’t like thinking about my childhood, much less talking about it.
    “In Miami?”
    I shrugged. Questions like this made me nervous. The less anyone knew about me the better. Connections to others were breadcrumbs. That was why I didn’t date, didn’t socialize. Not
that I had time between scrubbing toilets and going to school.
    “You don’t care to talk about yourself?” He gave a humorless laugh. “That’s a first.”
    “Oh, you don’t want to hear about my boring life. I have an idea: let’s institute a no-personal-questions rule.”
    “And you think you can keep yourself from digging about me?”
    If it kept him from doing the same? “
Sí.
”
    “Very well, then let’s get down to business. I believe this is the part where you upsell me.”
    Busted.
    “I’ll only need you for an hour or so,” he continued, “but I don’t like to be mindful of such things, so I booked half the night. How much will it cost to let me do
anything I desire to you?”
    What would a guy like this—gorgeous, rich, condescending—want? “Some things aren’t on the table.”
    A flash of anger. “Everything is on
my
table, little girl.”
    This was turning into an issue.
No, no, remember your mantra.
When faced with a difficulty, good businesswomen said, “It’s not a problem,” then went to work fixing
it.
    “Though I’d love to get to know your body better”—I gave him a brazen once-over that seemed to surprise him—“I can’t provide some of the services you
might desire. There’s not enough money in the world.”
    “Such as?”
    “BBBJ. In fact, bareback anything is out.”
    “I have no interest in that. You replaced another tonight—I’ll expect you to do what she would have. What I ordered from your agency.”
    I recalled Ivanna’s kink specialization: bondage, discipline, submission, and the like. She had gear all over her apartment. Had this guy requested her for more than her looks?
    As a vetted hobbyist, he couldn’t be
too
dangerous. If he offered me enough money, could I trust a strange man to tie me up? To make me helpless?
    No, gracias.
My ability to trust was broken, like a fractured limb that had never been set, now shrunken and useless. I even refused to trust myself when it came to men.
    But I didn’t want to lose out on this money. “Why don’t we take tonight as it comes? See where it leads us?”
See where I can lead you.
“I promise we’ll
both be satisfied.”
    He narrowed his blue eyes, and it was like a blast of icy air blew over me. “Do not play games with me. And don’t mistake my intent—I couldn’t care less if you enjoy this
or not, so don’t pretend to.”
    What a dick!
Cállate la boca, Cat!
Shut your mouth—
    “I won’t tolerate feigned passion.”
    So much for Ivanna’s article. Somehow I managed to say, “Understood.”
    “Then I’ll pay you three thousand—and you’ll be amenable to my interests.”
    My knees almost buckled. That much money would be life-changing! Yet words were leaving my lips: “Make it five, and we have a deal.”
    He stilled. Had I angered him?