Page 141 of Boyfriend of the Hour

I was wrong.

Serving drinks topless and giving lap dances to my ex-boyfriend and his cronies while my fake boyfriend’s brother watched for five hours was worse.Somuch worse.

So, it was with undying relief when sometime past three, the room emptied out, and I was finally able to leave, fully clothed, counting the two thousand dollars I’d made that night just from packing on the smiles, shaking my tits, and grinding on a couple of middle-aged men’s knees and half-hard dicks.

Rochelle wasn’t kidding when she said it was easy money. But I couldn’t say it was worth it. Not with Shawn and Carrick watching me like hawks the entire time.

After that, the other servers and I paid out from our tips and left; I took a short cab ride to the 1-train station on 116th. I was dangerously half-asleep on the platform when I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled up with the knowledge that someone was there. Someone was watching.

“Well, hello there,Gigi.”

I jumped, dropping my duffel bag full of clothes on the ground, and when I picked it up, I found Nathan’s brother leaning casually against one of the tiled pillars in the tunnel, looking me over like I was a car he was planning to test drive.

He was completely out of place in the dingy tunnel, still wearing the three-piece suit from this morning. That was another key difference between Carrick and Nathan. Carrick wore suits the way warriors of the past probably donned armor, as uncomfortable, but necessary protection. Nathan, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease in his rotation of casual but tailored menswear, hospital scrubs, and gym clothes.

I realized I much preferred the latter. Armor meant there was something underneath that was being protected. Something real. Armor wasn’t something you could trust.

“Jesus,” I said, pressing a hand to my heart. “Did you follow me here?”

Carrick shrugged and walked closer. “It seemed like the easiest way to get a word without any other…interested parties listening in.”

I didn’t have to ask what he meant. Whether it was the people in the gaming hall, Shawn, or just Nathan at home, there were plenty I didn’t really want listening to the conversation I knew Carrick and I had to have.

“Plus, I don’t think my big brother would approve if I didn’t at least see his lady home after a long night of jiggling her tits.”

“I—um—” I cringed. “Fuck.”

Carrick smiled in that unnervingly canine way of his. “Sounds about right. Did you?”

“Go to hell.” Something in me shriveled at his harsh words, but I forced myself to stand up straight. “What else do you want me to say here?”

Carrick stood up straighter, a fair body double for his brother. Just as tall. Just as broad.

But not quite as intimidating.

Maybe it was because I knew his intimidation was all bravado. The intensity of a man who wanted people to be scared of him. Nathan just didn’t fucking care what people thought. And that had to be as intimidating as hell to a man like Carrick, who probably knew he could never quite measure up to his older brother.

The thought made me smirk.

“I’m surprised you ventured into the gutter,” I said, gesturing around the empty subway platform, typically coated in grime. “Aren’t rich assholes like you too uptight to get your hands dirty?”

“Nathan’s the one who doesn’t like to get dirty,” Carrick told me before baring his teeth a little. “I always figured it was part of life. Sometimes, dealing with a little filth is necessary to get what you want.” He looked me over; that blackened gaze dragged upmy clothes, making me feel like I was a part of that filth. “Nice outfit, ‘Gigi.’ Is that your real name?”

I’d been too tired to change out of the hot pants, so I’d thrown on my coat over the uniform Kyle had given me and left. The coat, however, was currently hanging open in the dank pressure of the underground tunnel.

I scowled as I yanked it closed. “It’s a job, you pretentious dick. And for the record, Gigi is short for Giovanna. I use it so men like you don’t learn my real name and stalk me.”

“Too bad I already knew it. So did that shit stain. What’s his name? Vamos?”

I wrinkled my nose. Apparently, we really were doing this. “Shawn. Yeah. We, um, know each other from a long time ago.”

“Know each other how?” Carrick’s posture was still casual as he watched a mouse traverse one of the train tracks, attentive like a predator tracking his prey.

I shrugged. “We were sort of involved.”

“Involved how?”

“You know, I don’t think it’s any of your business.”