Read Online Sinful Rewards 11 by Cynthia Sax - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cynthia Sax
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and jars of nail polish on two folding chairs. “I heard your voice. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” I wave my hands, not wanting to be seen as insane for talking to a cat. “I received this today.” I proudly hand Lona the comb.
She examines the piece, turning it in her hands. “Someone treasures you.”
Someone treasures me. My shoulders slump. He doesn’t love me. “You must have been given similar gifts in the past from . . . ” I stop, not knowing what to call her Johns.
“From my clients.” Lona supplies the words. “It’s not the gift that matters. It’s the meaning and the man behind it.”
Shit. My head hangs. She has received diamond combs from her clients, men who merely wanted sex and temporary company.
“Sit.” She sets the comb aside and pats a seat. “I’ll attach your new toenails.”
I lower into the chair and stick out my feet, feeling awkward. No one has ever waited on me. “What do I do?”
Lona gives me an emery board. “Buff your fingernails.” She places my hideous feet in her lap and I want to curl up and die. She’s perfect and I’m not. “So, tell me why you’re attending this fancy ball with another man.”
I stiffen, hearing the disapproval in her words. “Nicolas is a mutual friend.”
“Ahhh . . . ” She inserts the foam toe separators. “Your date is the mysterious Mr. Rainer, our handsome and elusive landlord.” She prepares my feet for the fake toenails. “He offered you a billion dollars to have sex with him and you refused.”
“He knew I would.” I lift my chin.
“Because you don’t have sex for money.” Lona’s lips flatten. She thinks I’m judging her, criticizing her life decisions.
She doesn’t know I’m a pervert, that if another man—if Hawke—had offered me the money, I would have agreed, played that kinky game.
“I refused Nicolas’s offer because I love Hawke.” I skim the emery board across my fingernails.
“Yet you’re spending the evening with another man.” She pushes back my skin with a cuticle stick. “You’ll be photographed with your Mr. Rainer, associated with him. The world, including many of Hawke’s friends and clients, will assume you’re a couple.”
Hawke is a possessive man. Why would he allow this? Oh God. My chest aches. “Hawke doesn’t care about me.” He’s with me because he feels he has to be, because he promised not to leave me.
“I suspect the opposite is true.” Lona’s gaze meets mine, her eyes older, wiser. “Hawke cares so much for you, he’s willing to sacrifice his pride to make you happy. He’d do anything for you. The question is—what would you do for him?”
I’d do anything for Hawke. “I told Nicolas I’d be his date. I can’t back out now, can’t abandon him.” As I’ve been abandoned in the past, left without a friend in the world.
“Nicolas Rainer would survive,” Lona says dryly. “And he won’t be alone for long. He’s handsome, young, and wealthy.”
Nicolas is handsome, young, and wealthy, but he’s also lonely and feels he’s unworthy of love, of mere friendship. I exhale heavily, my breath lifting my hair. Leave no friend behind. Hawke often teases me about my unspoken motto. It’s a part of me . . . as he is.
But I don’t want to embarrass Hawke, to damage his pride while I attempt to make another man happy. I chew on the inside of my cheek.
Oh shit. Hawke puts me first. I should do the same.
“I have to make a call.” I scroll through my phone and press Nicolas’s number. It rings three times.
“Nicolas Rainer,” my billionaire friend barks into my ear, his voice a smidgeon louder than the men yelling around him. “This isn’t a good time, Bee.” The shouting fades. “The New York build is on the verge of collapse yet again. Nothing is going right with this project.” He sounds exasperated.
“You’re in New York?” That’s a two-hour-plus direct flight. Even if he left immediately, he wouldn’t arrive
“Everything’s fine.” I wave my hands, not wanting to be seen as insane for talking to a cat. “I received this today.” I proudly hand Lona the comb.
She examines the piece, turning it in her hands. “Someone treasures you.”
Someone treasures me. My shoulders slump. He doesn’t love me. “You must have been given similar gifts in the past from . . . ” I stop, not knowing what to call her Johns.
“From my clients.” Lona supplies the words. “It’s not the gift that matters. It’s the meaning and the man behind it.”
Shit. My head hangs. She has received diamond combs from her clients, men who merely wanted sex and temporary company.
“Sit.” She sets the comb aside and pats a seat. “I’ll attach your new toenails.”
I lower into the chair and stick out my feet, feeling awkward. No one has ever waited on me. “What do I do?”
Lona gives me an emery board. “Buff your fingernails.” She places my hideous feet in her lap and I want to curl up and die. She’s perfect and I’m not. “So, tell me why you’re attending this fancy ball with another man.”
I stiffen, hearing the disapproval in her words. “Nicolas is a mutual friend.”
“Ahhh . . . ” She inserts the foam toe separators. “Your date is the mysterious Mr. Rainer, our handsome and elusive landlord.” She prepares my feet for the fake toenails. “He offered you a billion dollars to have sex with him and you refused.”
“He knew I would.” I lift my chin.
“Because you don’t have sex for money.” Lona’s lips flatten. She thinks I’m judging her, criticizing her life decisions.
She doesn’t know I’m a pervert, that if another man—if Hawke—had offered me the money, I would have agreed, played that kinky game.
“I refused Nicolas’s offer because I love Hawke.” I skim the emery board across my fingernails.
“Yet you’re spending the evening with another man.” She pushes back my skin with a cuticle stick. “You’ll be photographed with your Mr. Rainer, associated with him. The world, including many of Hawke’s friends and clients, will assume you’re a couple.”
Hawke is a possessive man. Why would he allow this? Oh God. My chest aches. “Hawke doesn’t care about me.” He’s with me because he feels he has to be, because he promised not to leave me.
“I suspect the opposite is true.” Lona’s gaze meets mine, her eyes older, wiser. “Hawke cares so much for you, he’s willing to sacrifice his pride to make you happy. He’d do anything for you. The question is—what would you do for him?”
I’d do anything for Hawke. “I told Nicolas I’d be his date. I can’t back out now, can’t abandon him.” As I’ve been abandoned in the past, left without a friend in the world.
“Nicolas Rainer would survive,” Lona says dryly. “And he won’t be alone for long. He’s handsome, young, and wealthy.”
Nicolas is handsome, young, and wealthy, but he’s also lonely and feels he’s unworthy of love, of mere friendship. I exhale heavily, my breath lifting my hair. Leave no friend behind. Hawke often teases me about my unspoken motto. It’s a part of me . . . as he is.
But I don’t want to embarrass Hawke, to damage his pride while I attempt to make another man happy. I chew on the inside of my cheek.
Oh shit. Hawke puts me first. I should do the same.
“I have to make a call.” I scroll through my phone and press Nicolas’s number. It rings three times.
“Nicolas Rainer,” my billionaire friend barks into my ear, his voice a smidgeon louder than the men yelling around him. “This isn’t a good time, Bee.” The shouting fades. “The New York build is on the verge of collapse yet again. Nothing is going right with this project.” He sounds exasperated.
“You’re in New York?” That’s a two-hour-plus direct flight. Even if he left immediately, he wouldn’t arrive
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