The Billionaire's Weekend Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

pretty risqué things in my time, but I wouldn't want it getting back that I was a prostitute.”
     
    “But you don't have to sleep with the clients do you?” Bibi said.
     
    “No, in fact, that's the policy of the agency. They don't pimp their girls. This is an exclusive company, but...”
    “But what?”
     
    “Well, the guy I was escorting was gorgeous. I mean, I was totally into him and we kinda ended up here.”
     
    “You didn't!”
     
    “We did – a lot. And it was so good.”
     
    “Well,” smiled Bibi. “Why not enjoy the perks of the job?” Bibi got two cups from the closet. “But you don't look like a woman who has had a great night of sex, if you don't mind me saying. You look plain miserable. What's up?”
     
    “It's just that, I thought I asked Damian up here for the sex only. At least that's what I told myself. But the truth is, there was more to Damian than just good looks and a great body. He seems like a nice guy, too. Interesting. And I wished I could've gotten to know him before he had to go back to DC.”
     
    “That's a real shame, Sonia. But still. You had one night.”
     
    “I guess I'll have to settle for that. After all, it was only a business arrangement. Nothing more. Well, he certainly saw it that way. He didn't even say goodbye. Just crept out.”
     
    “Don't worry, girlfriend. The ones who seem nice are the biggest rats.”
     
    “Well, that's exactly what he is. He's a man whore by his own admission, so what else should I expect?”
     
    “Exactly,” Bibi said, going back to the coffee. “Go have your bath.  Once we've grabbed a coffee, we can go for lunch later. My treat.”
     
    Sonia ran the water and poured in a large amount of oils and foam bath. She sank in deep and closed her eyes for a long while before Bibi brought her in a cup of coffee. She needed it.
     
    She got dry in her room and went to pull out the drawer next to her bed to get some fresh underwear. It was the side Damian slept in and she could still see his naked body in her mind's eye. Just then she spotted a piece of her notebook paper on the little side table, folded around something.
     
    On the notepaper was a message and folded inside was a large wad of bank notes. She counted them. Five hundred dollars. She read the note:
     
    Dear Sonia,
     
    Once again, thanks for being such a brilliant wife. I had a great time last night and wasn't sure if this would be enough of a tip. It was all the cash I had left on me and you didn't mention a price before we got naked. I've left my business card so you can contact my secretary if you require more money.
    I'll be on to the agency first thing in the morning to tell them how expert you are.
    Damian
     
    The bastard, she thought and threw the money across the bed. She ripped up the note and Damian's business card.
    How dare he ? Sonia thought, I'm not some hooker he has to pay for sex . She threw on her clothes, fuming at the nerve of the man and went to tell Bibi.
     
    “Don't be angry with him, Sonia. A lot of people think that escorts are prostitutes.”
     
    “But didn't he know anything about the agency before he booked me? I mean, do I look like a hooker to you?”
     
    “Well, not to me, but, honey you did just meet the guy and you got into bed with him.”
     
    “I know, but that's because we both wanted each other. It was mutual. I wasn't doing it for money.”
     
    “I'm sorry, Sonia. Guys can be bastards, you know that. And you did say he slept around. This isn't anything new for him.”
     
    “I just thought that maybe...”
     
    “Maybe what? That this time it'd be different? Once a hound, always a hound, I say. He'll never change. At least you'll never have to see him again.”
     
    Sonia flopped into the sofa and put her chin in her hands.
     
    “What is it you're actually upset about, Sonia?” Bibi came and put her arm around Sonia's shoulders. “The fact that he mistook you for a hooker or the fact that you'll never see him