Nova (MorningStar MC Novels, New Orleans Chapter #2)

Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

NOVA

“ H i, this message is for Mr. Deacon. We met in a bar in Vegas. God, that sounds like a pickup line, but we did. Hopefully, you recall. Anyway, I am in need of your services, and it’s rather urgent that I speak to you. Can you give me a call? It’s Simone, by the way. I swear I have an excellent phone etiquette when I’m not in distress. Okay, bye.”

Shock at the message has had me frozen at my desk all afternoon.

“It’s her,” I whisper as I listen to the message for the tenth time.

I’ve fantasized and hoped for this for so long that I’m afraid it’s a cruel joke. No way is it really her. I shake my head. Nah, Maverick found out her name and had Abel and Lacey make an AI voice to prank me.

I place my phone down and hover my finger over the delete prompt.

“But what if it’s not?” FUCK!

I pull at my hair and push my chair away so I’m not tempted to do anything rash, like call her and beg for exactly what I want.

“Get your ass together and think, asshole,” I growl at myself as I spin slowly in circles trying to find the answer to this particular problem.

She wants to hire me.

Me?

Curiosity, more than anything, makes me get my head in the game and dial her number. If anything else, I deserve to know why she’s chosen now to reach out after so many months.

I take a few deep breaths as the phone rings.

“Hello?” Well, it’s the same voice, so if this is a joke, it’s a good one.

“Simone? It’s Maddox Deacon, returning your call. I believe you wanted to make a business deal with me?” Why does my voice sound so husky?

“Jesus, you even sound like a sex phone operator.” Damn, I forgot she has no filter.

“Everyone has a professional voice.” It’s not an excuse or explanation, but it comes out defensive anyway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just surprised by it. You must get some interesting reactions to it.” She rambles, and my eyes close, picturing her squirming on my fingers in that bar.

I lick my lips to the memory of her taste on my tongue.

“Mr. Deacon, I have a family situation that I believe you may be able to help me with. Do you remember my state the night we met?” How could I forget?

“Yes, without digging up unpleasant memories, you broke up with your fiancee after finding him with your sister.” If I ever find him and the brother, I’ll fucking end them.

They give identical twins a bad name.

“Yes, well, the wedding proceeded, and now my sister is pregnant. My parents have insisted I attend the baby shower. I can grin and bear it, however, said ex will be there. No amount of alcohol will stop him from trying to mend our relationship. It seems he’s put my father’s job in jeopardy, and in turn, my family is encouraging the reconciliation.” Well, she just put that very politely.

“He’s blackmailing your father to get you back?” I can’t hide the shock in my voice.

“Yes.” Her voice turns clipped and annoyed.

“And your family is taking his side, not yours?” Her huff seems to be the only answer I’m going to get.

“Purely for clarification, how would I be helping you if I take the job?” A beat of silence followed by her exasperated voice.

“IF?” I smile to myself.

“Well, yes. I do not take every client that calls me. How would I ever get anything else done?” I mean it to sound like I’m extremely busy, but she flips it.

“Of course, you have women beating down your door,” I cut her off.

“And men.” She sucks in a breath, and I stifle my laugh.

“Glad to see you’re an equal opportunity hooker.” Nope, we are not playing this game.

“I beg your pardon.” I grit my teeth.

“You’re a damn hooker.” I sit up straighter when she repeats the insult and clear my throat.

“How crude. They’re called full-service sex workers. Regardless, I’m not.” She snorts.

“You are!” she giggles, but whether it’s from humor, I can’t tell.

“No, I’m an escort. I sell fantasies, Dove. I charge for my company. The fucking I do for free.” That shuts her up.

“I only take clients who respect who and what I do. So, if you want my help, I’d suggest you learn the correct phrase to address me.” I tap my fingers on my desk.

“I apologize for my misconceptions. It will not happen again.” I nod and grin.

She doesn’t sound like a person who likes to be proven wrong.

“Now, let’s talk business. What are you looking to hire me for?” She blows out a long breath.

“I need a new fiancee. I can’t marry Tyler if someone else is in the picture.” I arch my brow.

“When is the event?” I pull my calendar closer.

“Next month, the fourteenth.” I flip to that page and groan.

“Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement.” The irony of my wording is not lost on me.

“Can you reschedule?” It sounds like it cost her to ask.

“No, Dove, that is not how my business works. I can recommend a colleague of mine. He’s very good...” I stopped talking when a crash on her end of the phone startled me.

“DAMMIT! Can you hold on? Angel, are you ok?” I listen intently as she sees to whatever made the noise and whoever Angel is.

That’s a unisex name.

It could be a friend. Could be a lover. If it were a lover, she wouldn’t have called me to stand in as a fiancee, though. My mind whirls around a few dozen possibilities all that make me irrationally jealous to the point I snap the pencil in my hand that I’ve been holding ready to write her into my calendar.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Deacon?” My name on her lips snaps me back from my thoughts.

“Yes, is everything alright?” I want to pry, and dammit, that makes me mad as hell.

I care if she’s okay.

Caring is a work hazard. It’s the number one rule in my line of work. No feelings.

“Yes, thanks for asking. You were saying you could refer me,” I cut her off.

“That won’t be necessary. I can fit you in depending on the timing of your event. I’m assuming you won’t object to cutting the evening short?” I tap the pencil on the open calendar.

“That would be great, actually.” I smile to myself.

“Prefect. We just need to verify my price. Where is the event, how long will I be staying, and will any public displays of affection be necessary?” I lean back in my chair and wait.

“Toronto,” She pauses as if waiting for me to say no immediately.

“Not a problem. I do have a passport.” I arch my eyebrow when she doesn’t speak right away.

If I’m not careful, my face is going to freeze like this.

“Do you…never mind.” I wait to see if she’ll elaborate, but of course, she doesn’t.

Why would I be privy to her private thoughts?

I grind my molars because I need to know everything about this woman.

“Um, three hours tops and maybe hand-holding. Kiss on the cheek? I guess I’ll need a ring to tie the whole lie together.” That last, I’m sure, she meant for herself.

“I have that covered.” I glance at the top drawer of my desk and can’t fathom putting one of my many rings from previous jobs on her finger.

“Oh, okay.” She can’t hide the tone of surprise in her voice.

“I would need to return to see to my other clients that evening. So with travel expenses, my fee would be three thousand.” She curses.

“Fuck, really?” I stay quiet.

“Sex does sell rather well. Fine.” I ground my molars and narrow my eyes.

She asks a few more questions that I hastily answer before I get her email and tell her to wait for my invoice before hanging up abruptly so I don’t say anything I regret.

“Shit,” I run my hands through my hair.

That weekend just got really fucking busy for a client that clearly doesn’t approve of my work. So why am I breaking my back to do this?

Oh, that’s right.

She’s the fucking reason I’ve been popping Viagra like it’s candy. The woman has invaded every cell in my body. I have to see where this will go or regret it for my whole life.

I’m questioning my sanity as I send the invoice.

Less than five minutes later, she sends over the payment and her ring size, and I smile when I see her full name on her email signature, then frown when I notice the business she works for.

“Oh fuck,” why must my life be so fucking complicated?

Simone Gauthier, VP of Social Media at Sins.

I bring up the most notorious tabloid magazine and go to the About section, and there he is, or should I say they are?

Tyler and Timothy Reid, owners.

Fucking great. She’s a media nightmare for me. I have to return this money and cancel this job. I owe her a phone call, at the very least. I adjust my cock as I reach for my phone. It’s hard as a rock and pushes into my zipper when I lean forward to make the call.

Wait.

I stare at my dick in awe. It’s working without medication for the first time in months. It’s her. Simone’s better than any little blue pill. Decision made, I lean back and smile.

“Canada, here I come.”