The Whole Package (Hearts to Buy #1)

Ava

I see the Ritz-Carlton in front of me. Its lights shine bright in the Los Angeles evening, offering the luxury and pleasure I am accustomed to. My heels click on the marble floor as I walk through its revolving doors. My black dress contrasts with the lobby's crystal chandeliers, making me stand out — just how I like it. It's not an entrance if all eyes aren't on me.

Tonight’s appointment: Mr. Carrington, a man who lives for extravagance. Penthouse suite, Dom Pérignon chilled, jasmine candles flickering, and my hair in loose waves, every detail carefully curated to his liking. The concierge nods at me, understanding the need for discretion in my work. Every step is a careful dance, visible enough to be admired, invisible enough to never truly be seen. It’s a skill I’ve perfected and taught to others, but tonight, it feels heavier, a mask that’s starting to chafe

The private elevator takes me to the top floor, where the doors open to a corridor bathed in golden hues. I am familiar with this stage and anticipate the performance ahead. Mr. Carrington's suite door is open, which is our usual arrangement.

"Miss ,” he says, rising with a practiced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The suite behind him gleams, floor-to- ceiling windows framing the L.A. skyline like a trophy, just another symbol of his untouchable wealth.

"Mr. Carrington," I purr, my voice creating an electric charge between us. He sees me as more than just company; I am his fantasy, confidante, and symbol of his status. I play these roles effortlessly, like this dress. Our conversation flows smoothly, like a well-rehearsed script. I remain present in the moment while also remaining detached and watchful. This has made me a legend in this world, guiding others who are drawn into it.

Tonight, I am not just selling my time but a dream. And in a city built on dreams, they are the most precious currency. I have been doing this for a long time, but the memory of my first night has never left me. I was eighteen and naive. It was before my life was upended, leaving me with no way to pay my rent or put food on the table.

"You look as beautiful as always," Mr. Carrington offers all formalities aside now behind closed doors. It's time for me to put on my best performance face and get to work.

"You are the gentleman as always," I say. "Are you ready for a treat?"

I don't wait for an answer before walking toward him and placing a kiss on his cheek. His five o'clock shadow prickles my skin. I walk closer to him. "I'm here for your pleasure." I am a siren, drawing him into my dangerous waters. He cannot resist. He is the moth, and I am the flame, and soon he will be burned.

"Take this off," he murmurs, and I comply, shrugging the dress to the ground slowly, tantalizingly, feeling his gaze on me. It's intense and hungry, like a predator fixated on its prey. He's devoured me with those eyes plenty of times, yet each look feels as searing and raw as the first. I am exposing the black lingerie I have worn for him now, and the air is cold on my skin, and I revel in the sensation.

"Come here," he commands, his voice a deep timbre that resonates in the charged air. He takes my hand with a gentle grip, leading me toward the expansive king bed that dominates the suite. The sheets are pristine, contrasting the tangle of passion and desire about to unfold. His touch is warm, almost searing, like the first sip of strong liquor—smooth at first, then burning all the way down. "You are stunning," he whispers, his breath hot on my neck, the hairs standing up. We are two magnets, unable to resist the pull, our lips colliding. I taste his desire, feel it in the way he grips my hips. We are a mess of limbs, exploring, seeking, and giving.

I play my part flawlessly, every moan perfectly timed, every shiver calculated. He believes I’m lost in the moment, but my mind is elsewhere, tallying the minutes, the money, the lies I tell with my body. It feels good, I won't deny it. That's why I am so good at my job, because, plain and simple, I enjoy sex. It doesn't mean I want it with every client, and as put together as Carrington is, he is far from my ideal type. Still, I act. It's what I am good at; it's why the agency hired me in the first place — I've been with them since I was eighteen. At first, it was the promise of finishing school and having a career, but eventually, I learned that the best money comes from somewhere else. The big bucks come from the underbelly of L.A., the list no one tells you about. The one filled with celebrity names and politicians who want pretty girls in their arms, girls that look like models and are branded as up-and-coming actresses, but in reality, all we are paid for is to look good and give them pleasure.

We are both entirely bare now; under the expensive sheets in the large bed, his mouth is on me; he's sucking one of my nipples while his hand massages my other breast. My back arches into him, and a moan escapes my lips, a mixture of genuine and practiced desire. He takes his time with me, his fingers teasing, and he has to remind me not to rush him, because he likes going slow and enjoying me fully. His tongue traces my curves, making me shiver and ache for him.

"Patience, Miss ," he teases in that southern charm that drives women crazy, and I bite my lip to suppress a whimper. I am aching with anticipation. His breath is warm against my skin as his hands run up my thighs. They are a gentle caress, yet they light a fire inside me. I can't help but squirm beneath him.

"You are so wet for me," he says, his voice dripping lust, and I feel myself blush; I am far from embarrassed, but I did mention I was a good actress, right?

"Please," I beg. I need to make him believe it, make him think I need to feel him inside me. But he's taking his time, relishing my arousal.

"So ready, so eager." His fingers trail up and down my thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He is teasing me, tormenting me, and I love every second of it. He thinks he is the predator, and I am his willing prey — sometimes, he forgets he's paying me to play this part.

"Mr. Carrington..." I say his name, breathy and desperate. His eyes lock onto mine, and he gives me what I want. What we both want.

His mouth is on mine, hard and demanding, his fingers sliding into me. I moan into him as he moves them in and out, his thumb circling my clit. He swallows the sound, devours it, and demands more.

I give him what he wants and needs. He is lost in the moment, and I am his guide. His breathing is heavy, his heartbeat erratic. I feel alive and powerful. With the snap of my fingers, I can make a man come undone.

"Stay the night," he asks me, and I don't respond immediately.

"You know I can't," I answer him, a hint of a smile on my lips. He knows the rules, and I never break them.