“Morgan's step-father called me this morning.” Adelle broke the silence.

“What does he want now?” I asked, grateful for a topic that wouldn't lead back to Cade.

Adelle rolled her eyes. “What do you think?”

Her late husband, Morgan Dane, had lost his father when he'd been a kid. The man his mother had remarried had been a real piece of work. He made Ronald look like a saint. She'd actually caught him hitting on one of the bridesmaids at the reception. Morgan's mother had died when he was fifteen, leaving him in his step-father's custody. The old man had shipped Morgan off to boarding school and hadn't wanted anything to do with his step-son until Morgan had made his first million. When Adelle and Morgan first met, his step-father had been awful, coming on to Adelle to the point where she'd had to file a restraining order. After Morgan's death, when his step-father found out Adelle had gotten everything, he'd started harassing her with everything from legal threats to marriage proposals.

“Which was it this time?” I asked. “Does he want to marry you or sue you?”

Adelle laughed and we fell into the familiar pattern of discussing how cruel fate was to have taken Morgan so young while leaving his asshole step-father to clutter up the world. Right after Morgan's death, it had been an emotional catharsis for Adelle, often ending in her smashing something expensive, but over the last year, it had become more of a thoughtful musing with fond memories mixed in.

By the time we were done eating, the tension between us had eased and I was beginning to feel better about where things were going between us. Maybe it wouldn't take as long as I'd thought to get our friendship back to normal.

“I'll be right back,” Adelle said as she picked up my plate and carried both of our dishes into the kitchen.

Her phone rang before she'd gone more than a couple steps and she quickly tapped the screen to send it to voicemail. She gave me a bright smile and hurried off to the kitchen.

It was nice of her to not want to interrupt our time together, I thought, but the expression on her face had been strange when she'd looked at the phone. My curiosity got the best of me and I reached over to tap on her screen.

Cade.

I frowned. Was there some issue with her paying him? I thought he received his payments up front in case he needed to pay for something for our sessions. Maybe he was scheduling another date for us. I knew it was dangerous to think of our time together as dates, but after the other night, it was hard not to.

“Jocelyn made fresh cinnamon rolls, complete with her famous butter cream icing,” Adelle announced as she came back into the kitchen.

“Is there something wrong with Cade's payments?” I blurted out the question. If Adelle didn't want to pay him anymore, I needed to know. I needed to be prepared to have it end.

Adelle's eyes flicked down to her phone and then back to me. “No, everything's fine.” She sat down across from me and put the plate of delicious-smelling rolls between us. Her smile was tight and it didn't reflect in her eyes. Something was up.

“What's going on?” My eyes narrowed. My trust in Adelle was thin at the moment, so maybe I was reading too much into this, but I didn't think so.

“Nothing,” Adelle said too quickly.

I grabbed her phone, ignoring her protest. If I spoiled some surprise Cade was going to give me, I'd feel bad, but at least I'd know Adelle had been telling the truth. The way she couldn't look at me as I went to her voicemail made me think, however, that I was right. I put it on speaker so she could hear it too.

“Adelle.” Cade's voice was smooth. “I'm just calling to confirm our session for tomorrow night. If there's anything specific you want to use, please bring it with you.”

One look at my best friend's face told me I hadn't misunderstood the message at all. I understood it perfectly. She was still fucking Cade.

Chapter 10

Cade

I looked down at my phone as I ended the call. It was second nature to me now to leave messages like that, reminding clients of sessions, letting them know to bring toys or whatever specific things they wanted to use. I put my phone in my pocket and walked over to the window. I looked out at the city, remembering when the view I'd seen hadn't been so nice. At twenty-seven, I had an expensive condo in one of the nicest neighborhoods in all of Chicago, but I'd only lived here for a couple of years. And the road to get here hadn't been an easy one.

I could still remember the first time I'd booked a client on my own. How nervous I'd been taking that leap. It hadn't been my first time doing what I did, but it had been the first time I'd been the one in charge.

Heather Benedict.

I still remembered her name, everything about her really, down to her peach-colored toenails.

I'd spent nearly a year planning how I was going to break away from the situation I'd been in, how I was going to branch out on my own. I'd saved money, set up a budget and carefully planned everything possible. The one thing I hadn't been able to plan, however, had been client response. If I hadn't been able to find clients on my own, the entire thing would've crashed and burned. And it hadn't been just finding any woman. I'd needed ones I found attractive who'd be willing to pay a fairly steep price. My starting prices had been much lower than they were now, but they'd still been expensive for someone without any backing.

I'd gone into the Ritz-Carlton hotel bar, convinced I'd get thrown out before I could get a seat, and I'd waited there, scouting potential clients. When I'd seen Heather, she'd been sitting by herself, her shoulders hunched as she nursed her drink. I'd approached her, struck up a conversation, and then offered my services. For the first few seconds after I'd said the words, I'd been terrified that she'd laugh or call for security. Instead, she'd slipped a hotel key card into my hand and had told me to wait ten minutes before following.

Looking back, I could see how unsure I'd been, hiding it all behind swagger. I'd spent three hours with her, using everything I'd learned over the previous four years to make her scream, and she'd paid me everything I'd asked. Plus a bit of a bonus. As I'd left her hotel room, I'd felt none of the guilt or disgust that I'd felt before when I'd been with a client. Instead, I'd felt a new kind of freedom, the kind that had come with knowing that I'd regained control of my life. From that moment on, I'd been in charge and I'd never looked back.

I fucked who I wanted to fuck, and I got paid an obscene amount of money to do it. I never had to go through the hassle of dating or even working to get a woman in bed. Instead, they came to me and paid for my time. I never lacked for sex, and I never had to deal with the emotional shit storm that inevitably came from relationships.

I loved my life.

My phone vibrated against my leg. I frowned as I looked down at the screen. Catherine. One of my repeats who I'd had to cut off a few days ago. She'd been getting clingy, talking about leaving her husband for me. I didn't want to talk to her, but I knew her type. If I didn't answer, she'd keep calling.

This was exactly why I made it clear to every client that an emotional attachment meant the end of our business transactions. That was my number one rule. No one fell in love.

To be continued in Casual Encounter Vol. 3, which will be included as a free bonus in Blindfold Vol. 3. The complete Box Set of Casual Encounter is now on sale and FREE in Kindle Unlimited.

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