Escorting the Player (The Escort Collection Book 3) (6 page)

C
HASE

"You need to see this," Eric said, waking me up.

"Huh?" I said, groggy.

Eric held up his iPad. "It's Jess. She went public with Pax. She must've seen the pictures from the other night and flipped out."

He opened up her
Instagram
page and handed the tablet to me. There was picture after picture of Jess and Pax at some pool. Jess's silicon-enhanced assets were on full display, as was Pax's puffed-out chest. They were kissing in some of the pictures, their arms draped over each other. The taglines said "#reallove".

It looked as though I'd started a pissing contest with her, after all.

I put the iPad down and scrubbed my hands over my face, yawning. "Wes isn't going to be happy, but otherwise, I couldn’t give a fuck."

Eric was watching me thoughtfully. "I told you so."

"About which thing?"

"That hiring Avery was the right move." He sounded a little smug. "If you'd seen these pictures a week ago, you would've been a mess. Worried about what your teammates were going to say and how this was going to play out. But you're calm. I like you when you're calm."

"Gee, thanks."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "The point is, when you're calm that means you're in control. And that's what the Warriors need. Things are getting better, buddy. I told you so."

"You already told me that you told me so," I groaned, "so get out."

After he left, I couldn't go back to sleep. I sat on my bed, replaying the images from that night over and over in my head…again. What Eric said was true—I was calm about Jess and Pax's pictures, and this girl was the difference.

I just needed to figure out what that meant.

A
VERY

"You look lovely," Chase said as I went out to meet him and Eric. He held out his big hand to me, smiling.
What a difference forty-eight hours, five quarts of alcohol and a little pokey-pokey made.
He was being positively civilized.

I was shaky from the conversation with my sister, but I tried to hide it as we headed out to an SUV waiting in the drive. The driver opened the door for us, and we piled in. "Kind of reminds me of the other night," Eric said. "Anybody want a drink?"

"No," Chase and I said at the same time.

Eric laughed. "You two. Cute." He gave me a quick, knowing glance that made me blush. Either Chase had told him that we'd spent the night together, or he'd seen enough at the club to guess.

"So," Eric said, turning to Chase. "We're looking at a couple of condos in the Leather District. Very trendy, modern, in up-and-coming buildings. I called the
Gazette
and a couple of the local sports blogs, so they know we're doing this. We should expect some coverage." He glanced through the back window, his glasses glinting in the sunlight. There was a line of cars pulling out after us, clogging the residential Wellesley street. "Looks like we already have some admirers."

Chase glanced out the window. "My neighbors must hate me."

"Your neighbors won't care, so long as you win the Super Bowl," Eric said. "So what we're looking for right now are two different things. First, we need to see if you actually want to live in one of these places. Second, we need to show you and Avery looking very much in love, like you're thrilled to be shopping for a home together. Are you two okay? Or are you still too hungover?"

"I'm fine," I said immediately.
It's been an interesting couple of days. I'd finally been gloriously, properly fucked by star quarterback Chase Layne, who now says I don't ever have to 'service' him again…and he's currently sitting next to me with all of his big muscles bulging in plain sight, just out of my reach, taunting me and my lady parts. And speaking of being fucked, I'm about to be royally, unscrupulously fucked over by my blackmailing sister. Because apparently she doesn't care if I have to suck cock in order to buy her a pocketbook. But I'm fine, Eric, really! Thank you so much for asking. You and your stupid purple shots and your shiny designer glasses and your smug lack of a hangover…

"It's cool," Chase said, breaking my reverie. "but I think I'd also like to look at some of the Beacon Hill listings. Some of the more traditional stuff."

"But the Leather District is a hot market right now," Eric countered. "We're trying to show the public Chase Layne 2.0. A new and improved you with a trendy loft and a hot, new girlfriend."

"But
vintage
Chase doesn't want to live in a loft with exposed pipes. He likes classic," Chase said and laughed. "And he's paying for it, so he gets a say."

"Don't talk about yourself in the third person," Eric warned. "You know I hate it when you do that."

A grin spread over Chase's face. "Chase Layne wouldn't do that to you."

Eric shook his head. "Jesus Christ. You drive me
crazy
."

"Chase doesn't want to drive you crazy, but he
does
want to look at real estate in Beacon Hill," Chase said, continuing to taunt Eric.

"Um," I said, interrupting them, "I have a question." I decided to shove the errant, problematic thoughts from my head and focus on business.

"Please," Eric said, "anything to make him stop. Shoot."

"What's going to happen when I'm done working for you guys?" I blurted out, unable to keep the words from tumbling out. This issue had been bothering me since Elena told me about the assignment, but the long line of press cars following us and my sister's escalating set of demands made it seem more pertinent. I needed this to work so I could get paid and get out of this situation in one piece—and Chase did, too. "Isn't everyone going to know that this was all an act?"

Chase looked stymied, and Eric looked vaguely thoughtful. "We're still figuring out the exit strategy," he said.

"We are?" Chase asked. He shrugged. "I hate to admit it, but I was so worried about getting this whole thing started, I hadn't started worrying about how to end it."

Eric patted him on the arm. "We'll handle it when the time comes, buddy. You don't need to worry about it, either, okay Avery? We're just getting warmed up. Let's relax and enjoy the ride." He smiled knowingly at me.
Enjoy the ride, indeed.

He turned back to Chase. "Your relationship will seem more natural if we don't plan the whole thing out. Like there's really something going on between you to." He gave his friend a long, probing look. "Unless of course, we don't need to worry about that because something
is
going on with you two…"

I felt myself start to blush, and Chase scowled at Eric. "Stop digging."

Eric held his hands up in mock defeat. "Whatever you say, Boss."

We drove through Chinatown into the sleek Leather District. Industrial and more traditional, brick buildings intermixed and soared, side-by-side, into the skyline. We pulled down Beach Street, past a wine bar and a high-tech office, and parked. "This is it," Eric said, hopping out and motioning to an impressive high-rise.

A handsome, well-dressed man waved toward us from down the street. The sun glinted off of his dark skin and accentuated the whiteness of his teeth when he smiled.

"Is that the broker?" Chase asked. "He dresses better than you, Eric."

"Can you stop talking now?" Eric asked, watching the broker. "That
is
a nice suit, though."

The man reached us and held out his hand to Chase. "I'm Jackson Pryce."

Chase grabbed his hand. "Chase Layne."

Jackson's polite smile turned into a grin. "I'm a huge fan. Are we looking good this year?"

"As soon as I get back out onto the field, we'll be looking a lot better." He motioned to me. "This is my girlfriend, Avery. And my agent, Eric Taylor."

"A pleasure," Jackson said. "Let's go take a look at this unit. It's top-of-the-line. Unless you want to wait for these gentlemen." He motioned toward the cars that were pulling up behind ours, cameramen spilling out of them.

"We can wait for a minute," Eric said. He positioned me next to Chase and smoothed both of our hair while he continued to talk to the broker. "What's the neighborhood like?"

"Very nice," Jackson said. "Upscale. It's a younger crowd that's moving in down here. They like the industrial style of the buildings."

"You got anything in Beacon Hill?" Chase asked him conspiratorially.

Jackson pointed at him. "I pegged you for a Beacon-Hill type. I have a classic townhouse. All the bells, whistles, and wainscoting you could hope for."

"That's sounds nice," Chase said. He turned to me. "Doesn't that sound nice, babe?"

I had no idea what sort of bells and whistles there would be, but I loved the Beacon Hill neighborhood, and I was somewhat stupidly thrilled that he'd just called me
babe
. "It does. But we should look at this one, too. I think Eric really wants to see it."

Eric shrugged a little defensively. "I like modern."

"Maybe you can finally buy a place up here so you don't always have to crash with me," Chase said. A few photographers had sidled up near us, and Chase casually threw his arm around me. "This is Jackson Pryce," he called pointing at the broker. "He's with Boston Premiere Realty. Best in the business. Now if you'll excuse us, Avery and I are looking for a new home." He squeezed me close, and we both smiled for the photographers. My worries about Lila lifted; the sun on my face and Chase's arm around me were like a balm.

We entered the lobby of the building. It was beautiful but austere with soaring windows and ultra-modern light fixtures. We went into the industrial-sized elevator, and as soon as the doors were closed, Chase turned to Jackson. "I can already tell this is not a good fit." He looked at Eric. "This is all you, buddy. You buy this one. I'll buy the Beacon Hill one."

"Sounds good to me," Jackson said, beaming.

Eric sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just give it a chance." We entered the massive space on the third floor, and I was impressed by the views of the district and the financial buildings beyond, and the exposed brick and the extremely high-end kitchen. Chase turned to me. "What do you think? Could you see yourself growing old with me here?"

For some reason, his words cut me. But I bravely plastered a smile on my face. "I like it, but it's not my style. But if you like it, that's all that matters."

Chase put his arm around me and turned to Jackson. "It's not for us. Sorry. Can we head over to the one on Beacon Hill?"

Jackson flashed us a brilliant smile. "I like to see two people on the same page. A lot of the couples I show places to want completely different things, and I always know it's going to end badly. But you two…"

Chase smiled at the broker and squeezed me against him protectively. "We're cute. We know. So…let's get out of here. Between the club the other night and this condo, I'm starting to feel old and out of place. Maybe a house with some history will do me good."

We left and drove to Charles Street, and I looked at the gorgeous homes with longing. The Beacon Hill neighborhood boasted classic Bostonian architecture, charming and grand. Pristine brick houses lined the streets, with classic shutters and window boxes filled with flowers. I could picture Chase living in this neighborhood with his beautiful wife and adorable children.

Chase let out a low whistle as we pulled up to the curb. He looked at a striking brick-faced home. "Now
this
is what I'm talking about. What do you think, Avery?"

I swallowed hard. "This is a gorgeous neighborhood."
I will never live anywhere like this.

"I like it, too," Eric said. "I'd love to get you in a trendy loft, but even I can admit that this is more your style."

Jackson was waiting at the top of the granite steps. "Chase Layne, welcome home. You and Avery go ahead and take a walk through the house. I think you're going to love it, but I want you to see for yourselves. I'll be waiting for you out here. Come find me when you're done."

"I only have one question," Chase said. "How much is this going to cost me?"

Jackson beamed at him. "Eight-point-five million."

Chase opened his mouth, closed it, then smiled tightly. "I don't know if my ex is going to leave me with that much, but we'll go take a look." He reached out and grabbed my hand, leading me through the door. We entered the massive foyer, which had black and white floors, a stunning staircase and an enormous crystal chandelier. "This is a little formal, don't you think?"

I nodded. "But if you lived here, you'd make it homey. There would be sneakers and football pads everywhere. And beer. Much less stiff."

"I can picture the sneakers." His eyes sparkled at the inner vision. "And the beer." He kept his hand clamped over mine as we went through the rest of the house. Chase seemed enamored by the architectural details of the home.

"Look at these," he said, examining the light fixtures in one of the halls. "I can't tell if these are original or not, but they match the house so well." He turned to me. "Do you like this kind of stuff? Or do you just think I'm crazy?"

"I do like this kind of stuff," I said. "But you're awfully excited about the light fixtures." He grinned at me, and I couldn't help but grin back. I hadn't imagined that the big, sexy quarterback was an architecture nerd.

"When I bought the house in Wellesley, it was for convenience. It was an easy drive to the stadium." He shrugged. "I mean, I
liked
it, but it wasn't a big deal. And then Jessica decorated it, and I didn't like it as much anymore." He examined some floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases before turning to me. "She posted some pictures of her and Pax on social media today. They were hanging all over each other."

"Oh… Chase, I'm sorry."

"She's probably pissed about our pics from the other night." He shook his head. "I'm fine with it. Their relationship was going to come out sooner or later."

"Are you worried about the team?" Eric had explained further why they'd hired me. Chase was worried about how his wife's transgressions were going to impact the Warriors.

"Everybody keeps texting me about how hot you are." He pulled out his phone and scrolled through it. "I haven't read all these new messages, but it looks like they're saying the same thing. That Pax is a douche."