Thor (Recherché #1) (2 page)

Maddox gets up from his spot on the sofa and wanders over to the kitchen. He grabs a beer out of the fridge whilst glancing over Kaden’s shoulder.

“Who you texting, squirt?” He says with a grin.

“No one.”

Maddox wiggles his eyebrows and snatches the phone, holding it above his head. He’s got half a foot on Kaden and the poor kid doesn’t stand a chance.

“Give it back.” Kaden grumbles whilst trying to retrieve his phone.

“Oh, who’s Lola?”

“No one.”

“Can’t wait for our date.” Maddox says in a girly voice.

I roll my eyes. “You’re gonna learn the hard way kid.”

“What?” He grates, still trying to get the phone. I walk up behind Maddox and snatch the phone back, handing it to Kaden.

“That you can’t date in this game. Girls don’t like it when you plow through half the city to make rent.” He frowns, staring at the screen on his phone.

“Why would you want to date when you can make a living out of fucking?” Maddox laughs, grabbing his crotch. “I mean I’ll take you to dinner if you let me fuck you after.” He says, shrugging one shoulder.

“Fuck off.” Kaden holds his middle finger up. “See, you say shit like that and it makes it weird.”

Maddox grabs him in a headlock, forcing his face near his crotch. “Is this weird? This isn’t weird is it, boss?”

“Fucking. Dick.” Kaden struggles and punches him in the gut.

“You know you want to pretty boy.” He says, letting out a booming laugh. I roll my eyes and head into the office. I have paperwork to do.

I wake up, shower and dress in a plain black suit, white shirt, no tie. It’s way too early for this shit, but I have a meeting today with the new website designer.

I walk into the kitchen and find Xavier sitting there in his suit trousers and immaculate white shirt. His dark hair is damp from the shower and a newspaper sits on the breakfast bar in front of him. A steaming cup of coffee is clutched in his hands.

“Why the hell are you up this early?” I ask.

He glances over at me and cocks a brow. “Flying to Dubai.”

I tilt my chin up in acknowledgment. Xavier and I have been best friends for years, long before there even was an agency. He’d always been the sensible one, but in the blink of an eye, it all fell to shit. I was turning away clients so I asked him if he wanted the job. I needed someone with similar attributes to myself, attractive, confident, with sex appeal, but able to mingle with any of the upper class. This is our market and those are the people who pay the big bucks. He took on a lot of my clients, which allowed me to step back. I now only keep a handful. Xavier is booked every night and trust me, he makes a lot of fucking money.

“You were out late last night.” I comment.

“Client.”

“Yeah well, go careful. You’ll wear your dick out at this rate.”

He smirks, flicking his eyes up to mine. “I’m living the dream, remember?” There’s an edge to his voice. I know Xavier didn’t exactly envision his life going this way. He’s an intelligent guy with a glowing CV. He could be doing any number of successful jobs, but he’s doing this, a job that completely consumes you. There is no life outside of this. Your friends become the other guys. Relationships are impossible, and honestly even if you found some magical woman who didn’t care, the last thing you want to do when you get home is fuck someone else.

These are all problems and yet Xavier won’t walk away, because short of being a brain surgeon, no job will ever match what he earns doing this, the lifestyle it affords him. There are a thousand guys who would love to take his place. He is living the dream.

“Well, have fun in Dubai, dude. Send SJ the details and she’ll invoice.”

He nods and focuses his attention back on the paper. I take my coffee and leave the flat.

My secretary, Sarah-Jane is already in the office when I get downstairs. She’s typing away, her eyes firmly fixed on the screen.

“You’re in early.” She comments. She’s my secretary, though in truth she runs the office for me. She’s only in her twenties, but she’s a feisty red-head who keeps all the guys in line.

“I have a meeting.”

“Well, while you’re here I need you to sign off on these.” She pauses in her typing and shoves a pile of papers towards me.

I go through and read over each page before signing them at the bottom.

“And you need to get another guy.” She looks over the top of her glasses at me. “I had to turn another new client away this morning.” She taps her finger over a client application form on her desk.

“Kaden has space, send him.”

She shakes her head. “Not suitable. It needs to be Xavier.”

I frown and move over to her desk, picking up the piece of paper. “A wedding?” I ask incredulously.

“Yes. Elodie Cross rang wanting to hire someone as a date.”

“Expensive date.” I mumble. Unless of course, she’s wanting a guaranteed post wedding fuck. “When?”

“Saturday.”

“I’ll do it.” I tell her.

Her gaze snaps to me, her eyes bugged wide. “You?” She asks incredulously.

“I love a wedding. Free food, some champagne.”

“And having to pretend you’re someone’s boyfriend all day…” She’s right, that is a fucking ball ache. “We both know you only work between the sheets.” She folds her arms over her chest and her eyebrow raises over the rim of her glasses.

“That’s because I’m all about easy money. Tell her the charge will be time and a half. For my pain and suffering.”

She rolls her eyes. “Try not to be an arse.”

I lean over her shoulder to place the paper back on the desk. “Babe, I’m Thor Jameson. It’s because I’m an arse that they’re all so wet for me.” I say against her ear. She ducks and shoos me away from her.

“Why any woman would sleep with you I don’t know.”

I smile and spread my arms wide as I walk backwards across the office. “Five grand and you can find out.”

“I was just sick in my mouth a little.”

I laugh and shake my head as I take a seat at my desk. “Call that chick. I’ll meet her this afternoon.”

I pick up the cup of coffee and bring it to my lips, watching the door to the coffee shop intently. I’ve been here five minutes and a few people have come and go. The door clicks open again and a tiny little brunette walks in. Her eyes scan the room, briefly stopping on me before skittering on nervously. A few seconds and she glances my way again. I never move, my gaze unwaveringly fixed on hers. I fight a smile as I watch her cheeks flush red and her eyes drop to the floor. She lingers near the door for a few seconds before seemingly plucking up the courage and walking over here. Coming to a stop at my table she grips the back of the chair across from me.

“Are uh, are you, Thor?” Her voice hikes up at the end as though she’s unsure of the name.

“Yes. And you are Elodie.” She looks at me again, reassessing.

“Take a seat.”

I kick the chair out and she slowly lowers into it. “I expected something different.” She blurts.

“Oh? What were you expecting?”

She hikes one shoulder. “Magic Mike.”

I smirk. “I can’t dance.”

“Okay well, I mean, this…” She gestures at my chest. “This is good too.” She swallows heavily and drops her hands to her lap, fidgeting.

“Do I make you nervous?” I ask, adding just an edge of seduction to my voice.

She looks up at me again and nods. The blush on her cheeks deepens until I can practically feel the heat coming off her from across the table. I hold her gaze, staring her down for long seconds before I crack a smile. “Good, I’m supposed to. It’s my job.”

She releases a long breath and drags a hand through her hair. “Well if it’s any consolation, you’re bloody good at it.” She fans her face.

“I know.”

“I’m a bit worried you might make the mother of the bride come in her pants.” Her eyes go wide and she slaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, I did not just say that.”

I snort. “Well, it can be arranged, for a fee of course.”

She frowns. “Gross. No, I just need you to be a date for Poppy.” 

I narrow my eyes. “You want to employ me for someone else?” She nods. “Well, then it’s her I need to be meeting with.”

She shakes her head. “She can’t know you’re a…” She waves her hand around.

“Escort.” I finish for her.

“Yeah, that.”

I laugh. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I’m a professional. The women I work with are aware of exactly what I am.” I start to stand but her hand darts across the table, grasping my wrist.

“Please. I’m just going to tell her that I know this guy and she should take him as her date. It’s not a complete lie, I do know you, I mean, we’ve met.” Her big brown eyes stare up at me and I slowly release a breath, leaning back in the chair again. Her hand falls away from my wrist and she snatches it back. “I’ll pay you double.”

Looking at her, I want to say that she doesn’t have the money, but I’ve learned in this game to never underestimate anyone. In a city full of sugar daddy’s and trust fund baby’s, anyone might be a secret millionaire. “You are aware of my fee’s?” I say slowly. She nods.

“She might want to meet you first.”

This is not what I do. I should turn her down, stick to the rules. But what harm can it do? It’s just a wedding, and no matter how much money I earn, I will always be a businessman. Easy money is hard to turn down. “I work on a nightly rate.” I tell her.

She waves me off. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.”

“And payment is upfront.” A look of impatience crosses her face. Leaning down, she takes something out of her handbag. She places the brown envelope on the table and slides it in front of me. I pick it up and open it, revealing a wad of cash, probably about ten grand.

“This is for the first date. I’ll give you double that for the wedding, thirty in total.”

I glance over her again, paying more attention to detail. She’s young, but her handbag is Hermes, the watch on her wrist a limited addition Rolex and her earrings are Tahitian pearls. She’s from money.

“What was your surname again?”

“Cross. Elodie Cross.” Cross Enterprises, owners of a huge hotel chain here in London.

“And your friend's name?”

“Poppy Whitely.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

I scoop up the envelope of cash and tuck it in my inside jacket pocket before pushing to my feet. “Call me when you have a date set up.” And then I’m striding out of the coffee shop and wondering how the hell I managed to get myself into being Poppy Whitely’s fictional date.

I knock on the door of Anna’s Belgravia townhouse and wait. Anna’s one of the few clients I kept on after I cut back, pretty much because she’s hot. I’d almost fuck her for free, but I’m a businessman and nothing worth having in this life is free. She knows it as much as I do.

As always her maid answers and keeps her gaze fixed on the floor as she holds the door open for me.

“Margareet.” She never acknowledges me. I walk straight through the entrance hall and hop up the two flights of stairs to Anna’s bedroom. She likes to fuck on the bed she shares with her much older husband. Her wish, my command. 

I knock once and push the door open. Anna’s standing in the middle of the room in full black lace lingerie that exposes every perfectly toned inch of her body. She’s not alone, though. I narrow my eyes at the dickhead sitting in the chair in the corner. Maddox is topless with the top button of his jeans unfastened and his bare foot propped casually on his knee.