He lay in bed next to Lola, but Johnny, who was usually unconscious as soon as the lights went out, breathed unevenly. He was awake. He flipped back and forth every few minutes. His mind was elsewhere. They each stayed on their sides of the bed .
It went on for days. When they were alone, he barely looked at her, but she often caught him staring during work. Waiting. For her to bring it up again? For her to make the decision? Did he hope she’d say yes? Or no? His silence meant she had to choose for both of them.
The more silence drew out between them, the more time Lola had alone. Beau was a strong presence in her thoughts. She couldn’t forget him in his urbane suit, giving all his attention to whatever he was doing at that moment, whether it was throwing darts, savoring his Macallan—or looking at her. Being near her. Flirting with her. Everything he did, he did a hundred percent.
During a night off, while Johnny worked, Lola finally gave in to her curiosity and looked Beau up online. He hadn’t always been wealthy. He’d even grown up twenty minutes from Lola. It was well known that he was a self-made millionaire and that he co-founded Bolt Ventures but had his hand in many different projects. At thirty-seven, he’d never been married, and except for stints here and there, he’d always lived in Los Angeles.
Lola looked for details about him before he’d sold his seventh try at a website, but they were hard to come by. His father had died in a car accident in France. He’d worked part-time jobs and developed his own projects in his spare time, mostly at night.
When she was about to give up, she found one of his first interviews from years earlier. The interviewer had asked what his least favorite job had been before he’d struck it rich. She had to read his answer twice—it was a six-month bartending gig at a hole-in-the-wall place in the Valley. He’d quit because with a thirty-minute commute each way, gas ate into his tips and he wouldn’t get home until an unreasonable hour.
Beau had been like them. He hadn’t done it for years like she and Johnny, but he’d been in their shoes. He knew struggle. And he’d done what he had to do to get out of it. The question was how far Lola would go to get out of it—and what Beau expected of her if she agreed.
The next night, Lola was just about to open the bar when the phone rang.
“Lola, right?” asked a familiar voice.
“Who’s this?”
“Hank Walken. We met last week when I came in to see the space.”
“I remember,” she said flatly.
“How are you?”
She hadn’t expected that question. “Busy,” she said. “There something I can help you with?”
“Sure. Got it. Is Mitch around?”
Lola bit her bottom lip and looked toward the backroom. “Not right now,” she lied.
“How can I get in touch with him? It’s important.”
“Try around this time tomorrow. I can get him a message if you want.”
“Just tell him to call me, and that time is money. I want this deal worked out in the next forty-eight hours if we can manage it.”
“Deal?” Lola asked, her throat closing. She and Johnny had run out of time. It was now or never.
“I told you about the lounge, didn’t I?” he asked cheerily. “We’ll be looking for pretty, young cocktail waitresses with experience. That’s a not-so-subtle hint.”
She struggled to register his words. All she could think was that their moment was about to pass them by. “What about management?” she asked, even though she could barely picture herself in a lounge, much less Johnny.
“I like to bring in my own people for the higher-level stuff. Why, you tired of serving?”
“I’m the assistant manager, but I was asking for my boyfriend. The guy you met.”
“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “We stick with women on the floor or if we hire males, they’re generally models, actors, that kind of thing.“ He guffawed. “If they can make a drink, even better. But maybe we can find your boyfriend something in the kitchen.”
“I’ll give Mitch the message,” Lola said and hung up.
“Who was that?” Vero asked as Lola walked by her.
“No one.” Lola went directly to Mitch’s office and closed the door behind her.
He looked up from his paperwork. The radio played The Rolling Stones. “What’s up?”
“We’re going to make an offer,” she said.
He heaved a big sigh. “Lola, I—”
“I just need a little more time.”
“Hank won’t like that.”
She went and set her palms on his desk. Johnny could work anywhere, but he would never be as happy as he was there. She’d been lost once, and Johnny had shown her the way back. Now she’d repay him by giving him what nobody else could. “Johnny’s busted his ass for you for over twelve fucking years. He doesn’t ask for much. For God’s sake, I’ve had to ask for all his raises. You will wait a few more days because you owe him at least that.”
Mitch laced his fingers on the desk and looked down. “I just want you to be sure about taking this on. The whole thing could tank if you’re not careful.”
He had no idea how true that was. “We’re sure,” Lola said. “We’re ready.”
“All right,” he said, eyeing her up and down. “That’s what you want, I’ll hold Hank off a few more days.”
Lola left Mitch and went into the break room. She leaned against the counter and inhaled a shaky breath. She hoped making the decision would be the hardest part of all. Her stomach was a mix of nerves and anticipation when she thought about the phone call she had to make. She decided Johnny would do it—she already had enough responsibility.
She went back out to the bar. Johnny was mid-pour. Customers at the bar were absorbed in their own conversations.
“I’ve made my decision,” Lola said. “I’ll do it.”
Johnny didn’t look up. He set down the bottle of gin. Now he was the one with a choice to make. If Johnny asked her not to do it right then, she wouldn’t. She’d leave Beau in his skyscraper where he belonged. Their worlds had been the same once, and now they’d be the same again. Only, Lola would be the one crossing sides this time. Beau was waiting for her there. One night on his side thrilled her as much as it terrified her, and that was why Johnny needed to tell her not to do it.
Johnny picked up the gin again and continued pouring. “Five hundred isn’t enough,” he said. His voice was steady but toneless. “We’ll ask for more.”
Beau scrubbed his hand up his jawline and back, looking between Lola and Johnny. Lola couldn’t tell in their bare surroundings if Beau was actually solemn, or if he was just reflecting what he saw across the conference table. Even the sky itself had given up the day to gray webs of clouds.
At least he hadn’t made them wait. Beau’d walked into the room a couple minutes after the receptionist had shown them in. Lola had watched him round the table, wondering if he’d removed his tie to seem less intimidating or if he’d come into work that day without one. It’d caught her off guard. Suits had never been her thing, but the casual nature of his open collar and exposed neck did something to her, as if she were seeing some forbidden part of him.
Beau was exact with his attention as always. At that moment, he addressed Johnny. “Are you sure you want to be here for this?”
Although reclined in his seat, tension emanated from Johnny. Lola had refused to sit down without him, but first she’d made Johnny promise not to let things get to the level they had last time they’d all been in the same room. “Just get started,” Johnny said.
Beau tapped the end of his pen once on the slim folder in front of him. “All right. Half the money will be deposited into your account by five o’clock the night of the arrangement. The other half will come once Lola has held up her end of the bargain.”
Beau’s formality made Lola’s stomach uneasy, but she was grateful for it. She didn’t think she could handle anything less tactful. “Exactly what does my end entail?”
“From sunset that night to sunrise the following morning, I own you.”
Lola schooled her expression. Inside, her heart was going a mile a minute. If anyone could own a woman, it would be the man sitting in front of her. “You own me,” she repeated. “Meaning what?”
Beau put his elbows on the table and played with his pen, twisting the cap. “You’re mine to do with what I please, excluding physical harm,” he said. “I want to be very clear—I have no intentions of making you physically uncomfortable or of hurting you in any way. This is meant to be a pleasant experience for us both.”
Lola was tempted to give Johnny a reassuring look when he shifted in his seat, but she kept her eyes on Beau as if he were a snake that might strike at any time. “Everything else is fair game?” she asked with an unnaturally straight back.
“Aside from anything that puts you at risk, the arrangement ensures that you give me whatever I ask for.”
“Not whatever,” Johnny said. “There have to be some limits.” He looked over at Lola. “There are some things she won’t do.”
“Johnny,” she said under her breath. She refused to go into specifics in a cold, stark conference room with her boyfriend and the man she was about to sleep with sitting across from each other. Johnny was right—she had limits. But she could handle Beau once they were alone.
“We’ve already covered the limits,” Beau said. “To everything else, there’s only one answer.”
“Yes,” Lola said.
Beau nodded once, looking pleased. “Exactly. Just like that.”
“How can we trust you won’t hurt her?” Johnny asked. His voice was already raised, bordering on aggressive. “Your word doesn’t mean dick.”
Beau switched back to Johnny and remained calm. “You’ve probably figured out by now that I’m well known in the business world. I have family members, investors, employees. If anyone’s taking a risk, it’s me.” He pulled a sheet from the folder under his hands and slid it across to Lola. “For that reason, I’ll need you both to sign a non-disclosure agreement. There’s a clause that if either of us strays from the agreement—including what I just said about physical harm—the NDA is null and void. That’s why you can trust me. I’ve worked long and hard to get where I am. I can’t afford to have my name attached to a scandal. My reputation is on the line.”
“Then why do this at all?” Lola asked. “Aren’t there more discreet ways of buying sex?”
Beau became even more focused on her. He set down his pen. “I’m not buying sex, Lola. I’m buying you. I’d like us to be one hundred percent clear on that. Are we?”
Lola found herself unable to meet his eyes for the first time. Being referred to as an object didn’t have the effect she thought it would. Instead of anger, she became acutely aware of the heat between her legs. He could have anyone. He wanted her.
“Are we?” Beau persisted. “If we’re not on the same page about that, I need to know now.”
She kept her eyes lowered as she looked to the side. Johnny’s head was turned away from her out the window.
“I understand,” Lola said.
“Eyes up,” Beau said.
Lola swallowed at his curt command. Her gaze traveled over the table’s surface, up Beau’s crisp, white shirt and its open collar, past his smooth-shaven jaw to his eyes. They were greener than ever with the window’s gray backdrop. “You’re buying me,” she said to him.
“Thank you.” His expression relaxed. “But of course there will be sex. For that reason, I’ll need you to get tested and bring the results with you the evening of our arrangement.”
Johnny snapped back to attention. “Come on, man.”
“That’s non-negotiable. I’ll do the same for you. Without that, there’s no deal.”
“It’s fine,” Lola said. “I’ll get the tests.”
“You have an appointment with my doctor after this,” he said. “Are you on birth control?”
Lola took her purse from the floor and set it on the table. She dug inside for her packet.
“I don’t need to see it.” He held up another piece of paper. “Because while I’d prefer we not have to deal with it at all, this signature absolves me of any responsibility should you get pregnant.”
Lola’s mouth instantly tingled. It was worse than being treated like an object. Things had happened so fast, she hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy. Her mind flitted over the past few weeks. She’d been diligent about taking the pill. She leaned over the table and slid the paper toward her.
Johnny sat perfectly still. “I wouldn’t worry about the responsibility,” he said. “She gets pregnant and I’ll kill you. Problem solved.”
Lola stared at the paper in front of her, which was only one page, concise and to the point.
“Then we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” Beau said. “But I still need Lola to sign it. My lawyers would have heart attacks if they knew I was doing this without them. I prefer not to involve anyone other than us. We can if you’d like, though.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Lola couldn’t think too hard about what she was signing or she might lose her nerve.
“If you don’t deliver your end of the deal,” Beau continued, “I’ll be forced to come up with ways of righting the situation. I don’t want to resort to that, but I haven’t gotten this far in business without doing things I don’t like.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t thought this through,” Lola said.
Beau smiled reassuringly. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he just squinted at her. “Are you all right?”
Her body had undergone about a hundred different reactions in the last twenty minutes, from shame to arousal to indignation. Was she all right? She couldn’t be sure, but she wasn’t Beau’s responsibility. No matter how much he paid, she would never be his to hold and comfort and reassure. She raised her chin a little. “I’m fine.”
“Do you have any questions?”
Johnny moved. “We have demands,” he said, rejoining the conversation.
“I thought you might,” Beau invited.
“If you don’t meet them, we walk right now.”
Beau folded his hands on the table. “You have my attention. Proceed.”
“We want our half now. Today. And Lola will only do it for eight hundred thousand.”
Beau’s eyebrows shot up. “Eight hundred? You realize that’s sixty percent more than my initial offer?”
“You asked for a counteroffer.”
“I did, but this isn’t a free-for-all. As with any negotiation, I have my limits.”
Johnny shook his head fast. “No. This is the only way we’ll do it. Lola’s worth more than what you’re asking.”
Lola resisted jerking her head toward Johnny only because they’d agreed to come in as a unified front. But bringing Lola’s worth into the discussion was a low blow.
“Not that she has a price,” Johnny backtracked. “What I meant was—”
“I know what you meant,” Beau said. “Tread carefully, though. If you push me, I might pull the offer completely.”
Johnny shrugged with his whole upper body. Under the table, his leg bounced up and down. “Like I said, she won’t do it for a dime less anyway.”
“Johnny, relax,” Lola said. “You’re starting to sound like my pimp.”
Johnny’s glare at her was brief. Before the meeting, he’d said, “When we get to the money part, let me do the talking.” Sweat beaded on his temple despite the blowing air conditioning. Lola, on the other hand, had goose bumps from the cold. Even she wasn’t sure if he was bluffing.
When she looked back at Beau, he was watching her, not Johnny. “That’s the price you decided on for yourself, Lola?”
“It’s not my price,” she said. Her mouth soured. The word was as dirty as worth. “It’s how much we need to buy the bar. The money is useless to us otherwise.”
“I really prefer you didn’t call my very generous offer useless,” Beau said. “Do you have any concept of how much five hundred thousand dollars is?”
“Yes. It’s less than eight hundred,” Lola said sharply. “You two aren’t the only ones who get to blather about worth. If I’m going to degrade myself, it has to be worth it to me, and that means Johnny and I end up with Hey Joe.”
“Degrade yourself?” Beau repeated. His laugh was hollow. “I’d say you’ve already degraded yourself just by taking this meeting.”
The nerve. Up until that moment, she’d actually thought he was being fairly decent considering the circumstances. Lola pinched her lips together. “That’s not fair. I know you know what it’s like to put a dream before everything else.”
Beau’s smile faded as his face smoothed. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not about money or worth. At the end of the day, Johnny and I are doing this for our future. You killed yourself to make something from nothing—you know what it’s like on this side.”
“Exactly,” Beau said. “You can never understand how hard I’ve worked to get here, and now I’m offering it to you in exchange for one night. Not even an entire day. You should be on your knees thanking me.”
To her embarrassment, she shuddered. The sheer level of her confusion scared her. The more he talked, the angrier she got and the more she wanted to grab his shirt and pull him to her. He seemed to know exactly how to push her buttons, back her into a corner, make her sweat.
“What would you have done in my position?” she asked him.
“Me? Oh, I’ve sold my soul many times over,” he answered. “Now it’s my turn to buy.”
She stood and steadied herself against the table. “You clawed your way to the top, yet you’re still taking advantage of others’ desperation. You’re depraved. I guess it’s true that you can take the person out of the trash, but you can’t take the trash out of the person.”
He tilted his head. “Is that what they say about you?”
“Go to hell.” She didn’t have much dignity left, but she wasn’t willing to give him every last piece of it. “I can’t do this.”
The table was silent. She didn’t wait to see if Johnny would follow. With one last look at Beau, and a moment of wondering what could’ve been had she met him at a different time, or maybe even had he not made his offer, but had come back to the bar a second time—with that last look, she walked away.
As soon as she reached the door and her hand was closed around the handle, though, Beau spoke again.
“A million dollars.”
It wasn’t possible she’d heard him correctly. In her worked-up, jittery state, her mind had to be playing tricks on her. Beau had no reason to double the amount when he’d been so opposed to eight hundred thousand. She glanced back over her shoulder. Johnny had frozen, his eyes doubled in size.
Beau’s fingers were steepled in front of him and the corner of his mouth curled into a slight smile. “One night. One million dollars. And that’s my final offer.”
