A professional CALL GIRL, falling for a heartless ASSASSIN with eyes of ice. A paranormal romance darker than sin.
By day, EVELYN SCOTT works in a café, but come nightfall she secretly escorts herself to the wealthy upper classes of Amsterdam. Every...
Married people are more likely to masturbate than single people living alone.
Evelyn's p.o.v
I woke up with a start, my breath quick and panicked as flashbacks of the reoccurring nightmare flooded my mind. A beautiful face with piercing blue eyes and thick, dark hair had been haunting my dreams and giving me no rest. As the mental image of a gun pressed tight to my temple faded away, I slowly took in the foreign surroundings and tried to catch my breath.
Light spilled into the bedroom from the floor to ceiling windows that faced out across Amsterdam. A cool summer breeze moved through scattered strands of my dark hair, fanning them even further out across the pillow. However, as I stirred to consciousness, I slowly began to question whether the 'summer breeze' was really just strong air-con. The swanky apartment I had woken up in was extraordinary, the kind I truly didn't realise people could actually afford in the real world.
Creamy sheets tangled around my legs like tight vines trying to pull me back into the lull of sleep, but I knew that I needed to disappear before my companion inevitably woke up. I reluctantly slipped out of the ridiculously large bed, for a man who slept alone for the majority of nights, or at least I hoped he did. The thought of contributing to an affair was sickening and something I refused to delve into.
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Sneaking a quick look back at the body of the man beside me, I couldn't miss how he looked as though he was cloned in a petri-dish at the gym. I reluctantly rose from the plush mattress, my back to the stranger I'd met not a matter of hours ago and silently edged toward the end of the bed, trying desperately not to wake him.
The cash he owed me for last night was stacked up on the bed side table and I tiptoed across the plush carpet at his side of the bed, fingering through the wad of hundred dollar bills quickly to ensure it was the correct amount agreed on. Precisely $10,000 and precisely the amount I owed for Hope's latest medical invoice.
The short walk to his suite last night had been silent, but I'd nearly drowned from the screaming voice inside my head. Even after a month of working as a call girl, it didn't get any easier. My subconscious had been pleading with me to not to go ahead with this degrading plan, demanding that it was wrong on every level. I'd promised this man the 'girlfriend experience' which was something I was new to but the pay was better than the average outcall job.
And I needed the money.
I'd trailed behind him through the apartment, watching his muscular back beneath a tight dress shirt and smart pants. He looked like he worked in business or finance, one of those of mind numbingly boring yet ridiculously well paid jobs that enabled him to afford an apartment such as we one we were stood in.
His profession, however, would remain one of the many unsolved mysteries about him. I was to receive his money and his dick, nothing more, nothing less. Whether he was some kind of world class surgeon, prestigious lawyer or bloody circus trapeze made no difference to me, as it had always been my intention to be long gone by the time he woken up the following morning.
