Page 98 of Gilt

Her smile grows forced. “Many of our girls enjoy sexual relations with our clients, who are very wealthy men and very appreciative.”

Translation: they’re willing to pay because they’re old, fat, or desperate.

“As I mentioned, we don’t encourage our girls to have sex, but…”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” I interject before she can end the interview. It’s not like I’m actually taking the job, so what do I care about the semantics of it. “I just wanted to understand. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“There will be no trouble.” The warmth in her tone returns as she begins to click around with her mouse. “Our clients are very discreet. They know to expect a certain caliber of women, and they follow the rules.”

“If they don’t?”

“I handle all appointments personally. Once you’re on my blacklist, you can’t beg or buy yourself off it.”

I don’t want to know what lands you on that list, judging by the cold undercurrent in her words.

“You’ll want to choose a name,” she advises. “We don’t recommend that girls give their real names. It encourages stalking or romance, both activities we strictly prohibit.”

So I’m not allowed to fall in love with desperate old men. I think I can handle that. “So I can work here?”

I’m surprised by how little she needs to know to hire me. Then again, I think living and breathing with a vagina might be the only non-negotiables.

“We’ll have to wait for the tests and your birthday, but I think you’re just what a few of my clients are looking for.” She pushes her chair away from the desk. “Excuse me while I get some forms off the printer.”

She walks into the other room, and I’m left with a choice. Since I don’t have any time to waste, I gamble. Jumping up, I lean over her desk and grab her mouse. I click around until I find the appointments calendar on her desktop. Opening it, I scroll until I find what I’m looking for.

May.

Whoever she is, she’s popular because she’s booked out through the end of the next week. Before I can talk myself out of it, I schedule a fake name in the next available time slot. I use my real number. Hopefully, they don’t call to confirm bookings like the hair salon. The only thing left to decide is where, and I happen to have an in at the West Resort. It’s going to be fun to explain this one to Jameson. I’m clicking finish when the screen freezes. Shooting daggers at the wheel of death that’s replaced the mouse’s cursor, I count the seconds until it stops, and I can close the schedule. I’ve just sat back down when Suzanne reappears.

“This has all your forms as well as the clinic information. Call and tell them Suzanne sent you when you make your appointment.”

I nod as she continues, but my mind is elsewhere.

“Do you have any questions, Caroline? Caroline?”

It takes me a hot minute to remember she’s talking to me. “Sorry. I started thinking about having my blood drawn,” I lie. “I hate it.”

“A necessary precaution.” She passes the folder to me as she shows me to the door, then she winks. “I think you’ll find it’s worth it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Maddox is waiting for me in the driveway, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out how he knows we switched. Josie leans against the side of his car, wrapping a lock of hair around her finger and giggling. The girl could give lessons on how to flirt. I can’t help but admire the scene. If my bodyguard is upset about the bait and switch, she’s thoroughly distracted him. Then again, when I press the garage door button, he whips around and glares at me.

Busted.

I pull the car inside and brace myself as I get out. I knew there’d be a price to pay for my little stunt.

“Do you understand that when you pull shit like that, I get in trouble?” Maddox yells at me as soon as I’m out of the garage. Veins pulse in his meaty neck as he continues, “I like my job. I like to eat.”

For a second, I imagine what it takes to feed him in a day: a couple dozen eggs, maybe a few whole chickens. He’s that big. In past centuries, his ancestors were probably mistaken for gods. I swallow hard before I respond. “I’m sorry, but I tried to tell Jameson that I didn’t want to be followed.”

“So instead, you made me look like a fool.” Maddox crosses his arms and glares at me. “I’m going to have to tell him what happened.”

That I expected. Part of me is surprised that he hasn’t already been in contact with Jameson. “When you talk to him, remind him that I’m his girlfriend, not his child.”

“I don’t care if you’re his prize canary, he hired me to protect you,” Maddox grumbles.

“You don’t have to tell him,” Josie suggests. She moves to Maddox’s side and strokes his shoulder. She practically has to stand on her tiptoes to reach it. I shoot her a warning look that she ignores with a shrug. “If he doesn’t know, you can’t get in trouble.”