A Taste of Utopia (11 page)

Lottie

“PICK YOU UP
at eight?” Seth presses me against the penthouse’s front door.

“Yeah.”

“I want to cook you dinner.”

“Okay.”

“You sure you don’t want to spend the day with me?” His index finger traces along my jaw until it reaches the curve of my ear. A shiver runs through me. It shakes my decision to put distance between us. I can’t think clearly when he’s near. My brain turns to mush. Spending the day apart will allow me to sort things out.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’ll be good for both of us.” It will give him time to reconsider and who knows, he might not even show up to pick me up.

“See you in a bit.”

He kisses me, and I swoon. Great. I’m a goner for a sex god that is way out of my league.

I close the door behind me, hoping to leave all my worries and fears behind me. But they follow me inside and seem to intensify at Seth’s absence.

“About time,” Chloe says. “What took you so long? We need to talk missy.” She is sitting in the living room, her feet tucked under her legs, scanning through a fashion magazine.

I sit opposite her but turn my face to hide the tears gathering in my eyes.

“Are you crying? What did he do to you?” she asks, darting my way. “Said something to hurt you?”

“No.” Between my legs is sore, but no, he didn’t hurt me one bit.

“What is it then?” Her voice appears relieved.

“We got married, Chloe. Freaking married. Can you believe it? Married.”

“Yes.”

“Who even does that?”

“Britney Spears.”

“I’m serious.”

“Angelina Jolie.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, listen. It’s actually kind of romantic.”

“Says the person who was just screaming at me a few hours ago.”

“I was shocked, is all. Now that I think about it, it’s crazy romantic.”

“It’s crazy all right.”

“Crazy, spontaneous, romantic. Better than the novels we read. C’mon. For the first time in our lives, we’re doing stupid shit like other girls our age do.” She tries to cheer me up.

“True. But this is all too surreal. I mean, it’s so not like me to do something this absurd. You should have heard Dad. I’ve never heard him so furious before. And Mom, I could sense her worry, but she took the high road, congratulating me.”

“Listen, after next week, your family will meet him. Face will be saved. The reputation of the traditional Cahan Clan will be ensured. You can just get a divorce.”

“Like getting a divorce is a common occurrence in my family.”

“Well, the least of the evils, I guess.”

“Yeah, definitely a step up from getting a Vegas marriage annulled. Oh, not to mention that I only met him hours prior to the wedding.”

“Okay, enough,” she admonishes me, but her tone is gentle. “We’ve been through this already. Put your big girl’s panties on and get over it. Or get the annulment.”

And that’s why friends are a pain in the neck. Especially friends like Chloe—honest and brutal.

“You’re right. I’m overthinking it. It’s just that I’m trying to wrap my brain around everything, you know?”

“That’s not it, is it? There’s something else bothering you. Spill it.”

“Yeah. I mean.” I stare at my fingers. “Seth is like, perfect. God, he’s every book boyfriend we’ve ever read conjured into one. You know, like handsome as Christian Grey, mysterious as Edward Cullen, alluring as Mr. Darcy.” I sigh. “But I’m just plain old me.”

“C’mon. You being you makes all the damn difference. Give yourself a little more credit, will you? You’re gorgeous, intelligent, and caring. What’s plain about that?”

“I want to understand what’s happening to me,” I say in a small voice.

“It’s called lust, Lottie. A human condition when two people meet and are attracted to each other.”

I shake my head. “Uh-uh. No. I reject that. I mean, yeah, the lust and the chemistry are there. No denying that. But it’s more. It’s like, returning home. Finding a safe haven. A cosmic event. The union of yin and yang.”

“Don’t go down that road just yet, Lottie, you barely know each other.”

“And that’s what’s confusing me.”

“Let’s just talk about last night, huh? First, I want to know why you lied to me. Then, after I forgive you, you’re going to give me the nitty-gritty of everything that happened in that suite.”

She grasps my hand and tugs me to her bedroom. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

Seth

“YEP, I’M DEAD
serious,” I repeat to Adriana.

“What am I supposed to do with Amelia? She secured her appointment last year. She’s already paid for a week and booked the private island in Greece that you liked a couple years back. You can’t do this. I have a reputation, a name to uphold.” She leans forward in her white leather chair. A perfect eyebrow arches in evident exasperation.

I pace to the window in her office and look at the strip stretching out under the Nevada sky until my eyes can no longer trace it. I turn back and lean on the windowsill. My eyes focus on the red roses perched on her desk—the only splash of color in the cryptically white office.

“Adriana, how long have I been working for you?”

“Give or take ten years. But that’s not—”

“When have I had a vacation?”

“Give me a break, Seth. You’re my most well-traveled employee.”

“A vacation for myself, off duty.”

“Never?”

“When was the last time I let you down?”

“Never?”

“Rest my case,” I say impatiently. I didn’t think Adriana was going to raise hell when I requested the next three weeks off. I push off the window and sprawl in the white chair in front of her desk.

“Did something happen last night that I need to know about?” she asks suspiciously.

“No, nothing extraordinary. I just need the time off.” My hands brush my face. “I’m burned out. I need this.” It’s true. I need time off.

“Can I coerce you into changing your mind? At least until after you fulfill your commitment with Queen Amelia Bertozo Champziz of Bleemarie.”

“No. My mind is made up.”

“Okay,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do. That new kid Jasper? He seems promising. I’ll convince her to take him, with a much-reduced price. Hell, I’ll even eat the cost. She’s one of my best clients.”

“Thanks,” I say, relieved.

“Don’t make a habit of it, Seth. I won’t be as tolerant next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, Adriana.” And for a reason beyond my understanding, I knew that statement to be true.

I bid farewell and leave her office. Out on the strip, I watch as people walk by without purpose. They’re mostly tourists, visiting Sin City, not a care in the world, not a schedule to abide by. I inhale a deep breath. For the first time in years, I feel free.

After a quick stop at the Organic and Fresh store, I arrive home. I make a mental plea that Zach’s at work.

“Yoo-hoo!” A voice from the living room crashes my hopes. I’ll have to endure the third degree from Zach.

“It’s only me,” I call, heading to the kitchen. I deposit the brown bags on the granite counter.

“You’re back,” Zach saunters through the kitchen, his cherry blossom robe trailing behind him.

“Home so early?” I ask, glancing at my watch. It’s already five. The meeting with Adriana took longer than I anticipated.

“Yeah, the Japanese marketing director canceled. His assistant claimed food poisoning.” He shrugs. “We know better. They gambled all night. I’m sure.”

“So, what’s the new strategy? The Japanese market is harder to crack than I anticipated.”

“Traditional culture. Traditional men.” He peeks inside the grocery bags.

“Very stereotypical of you, but fair enough. Men’s luxury undergarments aren’t a marketable business in many countries. Just be patient, we’ll crack Japan.” I retrieve fresh asparagus from the bag and place it under running water.

“Hope you’re right.”

“I usually am,” I say with a grin.

He nods to the bag. “You have a guest for dinner, yes?” He opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.

“What makes you think I’m cooking for someone else? Maybe I’m just cooking you a nice meal,” I respond.

“You know I hate salmon, yet I see two portions of it. Highly unusual for you to have guests.” He wiggles his brows. “Who is she?” He takes a long pull from the Fuji water.

“My wife,” I say, pausing for a minute to taste the word in my mouth. Yes, undoubtedly a primal pleasure.

“What?” Waters sports out of his mouth and nose. “What the fuck? Want to give me a heart attack?”

I raise my left hand, displaying the band on my finger. “Nope, married last night. Actually sometime this morning.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Never been more serious.”

“Do explain,” he says, making himself comfortable on the barstool.

As I prepare the meal, I give him a rundown of the events since last night. I keep it light and omit all the unsettled feelings that I have yet to decipher. But Zach isn’t stupid, and he knows me all too well. He knows there’s more to this than I’m letting on.

“Wow. I guess congratulations are in order.” He shakes his head, trying to get a grip on all of the info I just dumped on him.

“So, when are you breaking it to her that you’re an escort?” Sometimes I forget how blunt Zach is.

“I don’t know, man. Everything is confusing.”

“Does she know about His Secret?”

“No, we haven’t gotten that far into each other’s lives yet.”

“Shit, Seth. You didn’t do a prenuptial, yes?”

“No, man, there was no time to think about details like that. Besides, she isn’t like that. She comes from money.”

“Don’t be naïve. We didn’t build this company from the ground up because we’re morons.”

“Nah, nothing to worry about. Lottie . . . she’s just, she’s different, dude.”

“They all say that right before a divorce strips them of half their assets.”

“For real, man, she’s different . . . a rare brand of woman.”

“Goddamnit! You’ve fallen for her. How is that even possible?”

“It’s not like that,” I snap.

“Either that or she has an enchanted pussy,”

“Well, can’t argue the latter. Her little cunt is sweet.”

“Dude, who are you? What about the untamed stallion that doesn’t do relationships. One of the most sought-out escorts in the nation. You have princesses and queens, attorney generals and esteemed judges all bidding to buy an hour of your time. Talk about a one-eighty change. You’re pussy-whipped.” He laughs. “Now I’ve seen it all.”

“Shut the fuck up, man.” I retrieve a bottle of water for myself and close the fridge door with a bang. He speaks the truth.

Another round of laughter roars through his chest and his head tilts back, greatly amused.

Fuck me. I’ll never live this down. Should have kept my mouth closed.

“You want the premises to yourself and your enchanted pussy, tonight, yes?” he says with a snort. He strolls toward his room. “Thank fuck I’m immune to the likes of it.”

I CLEAN THE KITCHEN
while thinking back on when Zach’s path crossed mine.

I had just arrived in Vegas. Penniless and homeless, I wandered through the streets, sleeping in dark alleys and eating what grocery stores and restaurants discarded in dumpsters. It’s amazing how one can survive on that alone. I tried to get a job, but no one would take a chance on an underage teen. Not to mention, I couldn’t use my real name. It was mission impossible.

In order to survive I had to be creative. Besides eating from the trash, I did the only other alternative I could think of: steal.

After carefully choosing my victims, it would be like the movies. A bump, the sweep of a wallet, and voila, all the cash I needed was mine.

My first attempts were successful. A teenage girl. Easy-peasy. Except she only had eight dollars in her purse.

Next, I decided that middle-aged tourists would be more profitable. Which they were. The first sucker was leaving a casino. All smiles, bragging about hitting the coin machines. I followed his intoxicated ass and swiftly snapped his fat wallet from his back pocket. Bingo. A wad of three hundred dollars—crispy and green bills—glinted at me.

Though I recognized the danger of being caught, I got cocky. I changed my demographic yet again. That’s when I spotted Zach—tall, handsome, preppy, and apparently high as a kite. He was leaving the Caesars Palace Hotel. I followed him through the strip until he turned into an alley. When I turned the corner, he was bent over, puking. My chance to slip his wallet. Except as I reached his back pocket, he swirled, and a hand gripped my wrist. Before I realized what had happened his forearm pressed against my throat, and his body caged me against the wall.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked, panting against my face.

“I, nothing. . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence. My throat throbbed under the pressure that blocked my airway.

He released the pressure and asked again, “Why have you been following me? Who do you work for?”

I gasped for air. “No one. Fuck.”

“You’re just a fucking kid,” he said as he studied my face. “I’m going to let go of you, but don’t try to jump me,” he said in a small but menacing voice.