Read Online Escorting the Actress (The Escort Collection Book 2) by Leigh James - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Leigh James
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and cancelled all of my credit cards. I'd gone to the bank and tried to get money from my trust, but I was informed that the provisions had been changed and I wouldn't be seeing a dime of it in this lifetime.
My palms broke out in a cold sweat. Can't talk now, I texted back.
As soon as you can, Eric responded immediately.
Great. Just fucking great. Just when I thought things might finally be looking up.
----
A fter Lo had agreed that I could stay—for now—and shown me back to the guest room, I took a deep breath and called Eric.
"Kyle," he said, picking up before the phone even had a chance to ring, "your father's very unhappy with you right now."
"What else is new?" I flopped down on the bed and tried to sound more casual than I felt.
"Your girlfriend, apparently," Eric said.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. I have an alert set up online—any time your name is mentioned or your image is posted, I get a text."
"Great," I said, wincing. .
"So you know exactly who I'm talking about—that actress. Lowell Barton."
"Mmhmmm. Yep. That's her, all right."
"She's your stepsister, " Eric said.
I didn't know Eric personally, but I heard what clearly sounded like contempt in his voice. "My ex-stepsister. Emphasis on the ex ."
"You can't date your stepsister." Eric's voice was flat, non-negotiable.
"I'm not dating her," I said, finally thinking of a way out. I was going to one-up my father for once.
"What does that mean?" Eric asked.
"Tell my father to ask me that himself," I snapped and hung up.
I sat there and fumed for a minute until Lowell poked her head in. "You want a snack?"
"And a drink," I said.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay." I followed her out of my room.
She'd changed from her cocktail dress into a pair of sweats and an old Cal Tech sweatshirt. She'd scrubbed off her makeup and was barefoot. I could almost see the girl I'd known underneath the current-day babe. Almost.
"What's the plan?" I asked, settling in on the couch. I gratefully accepted the glass of red wine she handed me. Thinking about my father could give me a headache like nobody's business.
"Well… I had every intention of firing you when we got back here," Lo said, adjusting her feet on the coffee table.
"That's not good."
"It actually would have suited me fine." She yawned. "But then I looked online again. It isn't just XYZ gushing over you—it's all the sites. We got picked up by everyone. They loved you. In some of the articles, they were even being nicer about my puke-formance. Gigi and Shirley are in their glory."
"And you think that's because of me ? Because of my brilliant work earlier?" I asked, allowing myself to feel an echo of my former smugness.
"I think it's because of me . Because of my brilliant plan, in which you are a mere pawn."
"But I'm an awesome mere pawn. Admit it," I said.
"I admit nothing."
"That's not surprising." I swirled the wine around in my glass. "After all, you never admitted that you bashed in my face with that textbook." I laughed until I saw her face, which looked both ashamed and livid.
"You just had to bring that up, didn't you?" She sat up straighter and took what looked like an aggressive sip of her wine. "I knew it wouldn't be long. But you know the truth—you deserved it. You actually deserved a lot worse. For a lot of things. You were lucky that I had proper Southern manners. And that I was a chicken shit most of the time."
I bit my tongue. I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to make her feel bad about almost breaking my nose all those years ago. But the thing was, she'd been right to do it. The things I'd said to her that day came back to me in a rush.
"I'm sorry I brought that book up," I said stiffly.
She looked at me for a bit, and I saw her anger bubbling just below the surface. I wasn't sure if it was just because she was around me, but she seemed angry sort of a lot.
I blew out a deep breath and decided it was time to be a big boy. "But I'm more sorry
My palms broke out in a cold sweat. Can't talk now, I texted back.
As soon as you can, Eric responded immediately.
Great. Just fucking great. Just when I thought things might finally be looking up.
----
A fter Lo had agreed that I could stay—for now—and shown me back to the guest room, I took a deep breath and called Eric.
"Kyle," he said, picking up before the phone even had a chance to ring, "your father's very unhappy with you right now."
"What else is new?" I flopped down on the bed and tried to sound more casual than I felt.
"Your girlfriend, apparently," Eric said.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. I have an alert set up online—any time your name is mentioned or your image is posted, I get a text."
"Great," I said, wincing. .
"So you know exactly who I'm talking about—that actress. Lowell Barton."
"Mmhmmm. Yep. That's her, all right."
"She's your stepsister, " Eric said.
I didn't know Eric personally, but I heard what clearly sounded like contempt in his voice. "My ex-stepsister. Emphasis on the ex ."
"You can't date your stepsister." Eric's voice was flat, non-negotiable.
"I'm not dating her," I said, finally thinking of a way out. I was going to one-up my father for once.
"What does that mean?" Eric asked.
"Tell my father to ask me that himself," I snapped and hung up.
I sat there and fumed for a minute until Lowell poked her head in. "You want a snack?"
"And a drink," I said.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay." I followed her out of my room.
She'd changed from her cocktail dress into a pair of sweats and an old Cal Tech sweatshirt. She'd scrubbed off her makeup and was barefoot. I could almost see the girl I'd known underneath the current-day babe. Almost.
"What's the plan?" I asked, settling in on the couch. I gratefully accepted the glass of red wine she handed me. Thinking about my father could give me a headache like nobody's business.
"Well… I had every intention of firing you when we got back here," Lo said, adjusting her feet on the coffee table.
"That's not good."
"It actually would have suited me fine." She yawned. "But then I looked online again. It isn't just XYZ gushing over you—it's all the sites. We got picked up by everyone. They loved you. In some of the articles, they were even being nicer about my puke-formance. Gigi and Shirley are in their glory."
"And you think that's because of me ? Because of my brilliant work earlier?" I asked, allowing myself to feel an echo of my former smugness.
"I think it's because of me . Because of my brilliant plan, in which you are a mere pawn."
"But I'm an awesome mere pawn. Admit it," I said.
"I admit nothing."
"That's not surprising." I swirled the wine around in my glass. "After all, you never admitted that you bashed in my face with that textbook." I laughed until I saw her face, which looked both ashamed and livid.
"You just had to bring that up, didn't you?" She sat up straighter and took what looked like an aggressive sip of her wine. "I knew it wouldn't be long. But you know the truth—you deserved it. You actually deserved a lot worse. For a lot of things. You were lucky that I had proper Southern manners. And that I was a chicken shit most of the time."
I bit my tongue. I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to make her feel bad about almost breaking my nose all those years ago. But the thing was, she'd been right to do it. The things I'd said to her that day came back to me in a rush.
"I'm sorry I brought that book up," I said stiffly.
She looked at me for a bit, and I saw her anger bubbling just below the surface. I wasn't sure if it was just because she was around me, but she seemed angry sort of a lot.
I blew out a deep breath and decided it was time to be a big boy. "But I'm more sorry
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