Chapter 2 Still in His System
Calla knows she’d never hear from him again.
Men like that didn’t reach out. They didn’t need to, they had power, money, and more women than they could ever use. She was just one night. That’s all it ever was. That’s how this job worked.
Nothing. No calls, no messages. Just quiet.
She figured that was it, and honestly, she was glad. That night had left a mark she didn’t want to look too closely at.
"The fuck's wrong with me?!" She shouldn't be thinking about him. He's just another client.
But, she couldn’t help it. His face, his body, the sex, his dominant thrusts and moans. It was different, made her feel different.
The days went by in that haze until, on a quiet Thursday evening, while she was helping Eli with homework at the kitchen table, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
[“9PM. Same place.”]
That was it. No name, no question. No please.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
'What if it's those people who she owed money?' Her face creased with worry.
Eli looked up from his notebook, "You look worried, did I do something wrong?" His face sad and lips in a pout.
She forced a smile, "No no! You didn't do anything. Just keep working on your homework okay? I'll be back." She got up, walked into the bathroom and shut the door before she let herself breathe.
She stared at the screen again. It has to be him, right? The crazily hot man from a week ago. It has to be him. He wanted her back.
She should said no. She can always refuse them.
But rent was late. The lights had almost been cut off. And the people her father owed? They were getting louder. Angrier.
"Fuck it." Calla closed her eyes and let out a long breath.
She opened the cabinet where she kept her makeup.
She dressed in black. Clean, sharp lines. Not sexy. Armor, not allure.
"Going somewhere?" Eli asked, seeing that his sister was all glammed up.
Calla halted, bit her lower lip before turning to face her brother. "Uh yeah. Urgent work."
"But it's late in the night. Must you go out?" He eyes glistering with the light.
Calla smiled at him, bending to his height. "You know I always work the night shift Eli," She explained, smoothing his hair that definitely needs a trim. "And I have to work to make money for your school tuition and our house rent... You understand right?" She asked.
He bowed his head, then replied, "I do." He said.
"Right." She got to her feet, holding tight to her purse. "Now, don't wait up for me, okay?"
"Okay. Love you!" He bid her goodnight as his sister headed for the door. His mind ignorant to what his sister does for money.
"I love you more my sweetpea!" She exclaimed and shut the door behind her.
It was the same driver. Same building. Same stone-faced bouncer.
He didn’t ask her name this time. Just stepped aside and let her in.
Her heels clicked down the quiet hall. She wasn’t shaking, but her stomach felt tight. Too tight. She hated how her body remembered him before her mind could catch up.
(Suite 4.)
She knocked once.
The door opened fast. Like he’d been standing right there.
Same man, same darkness in his eyes.
Tonight he wore dark slacks and a black shirt, sleeves rolled, top button undone. Casual, but controlled. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. Just moved aside to let her pass.
She stepped in slowly.
The room looked the same. Clean, sharp and cold.
He poured himself a drink and leaned against the edge of the bar. Still watching her like she was some kind of puzzle he hadn’t decided whether to solve or burn.
Finally, he spoke. “You came back.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You told me to.”
“You could’ve said no.” He sipped his drink, with his eyes still on her.
She shrugged lightly. “I don’t say no when rent’s due,” She replied, tossing her purse to the couch.
He didn’t laugh. Just sipped his drink and kept looking at her. “You look different.”
“Hair’s down, different dress. That’s all.” She shrugged, wondering what he was on about.
“No,” he said. “You’re more guarded.”
Calla blinked. She hadn’t expected that. “You think you know me after one night?”
“I know what I see.” He pushed off the bar and walked toward her, slow like last time. “And I see a woman who doesn’t trust me.”
She held his stare. “Should I?”
That made him pause. His head tilted just a little. “No.”
He stepped closer until they were almost chest to chest. He raised a hand, not touching, just letting his fingers hover by her jaw.
“I don’t like being second-guessed,” he said.
“Then don’t send cryptic messages,” she replied softly, carefully. Not snapping, just enough edge to keep her dignity. “Say what you want.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I want you to stay tonight.”
“That’s it?” Her brows creased.
“For now.” He responded.
She hesitated, then nodded once. “Alright.”
His fingers brushed her lip gently, then dropped. “Good girl.”
This time the sex was slower, not gentle, not soft, but slower. Like he was trying to learn something about her. The way her breath caught. The way she moved. The way she held back.
"Mhmm." She moaned softly.
He didn’t ask questions during. Didn’t speak much at all. But he watched her the whole time.
Like he was memorizing her, and maybe that’s what scared her most.
Their body moved in sync, every thrust was electrifying. His lips sucked her neck, as he moved in and out of her.
She wanted more, but she dare not ask. She was paid to please him, not demand pleasure from him.
After, she lay there quiet, catching her breath. He was already up again, shirt half-buttoned, pouring another drink.
He looked over his shoulder. “You see other clients?”
She sat up slowly. “Not often.”
“But you do.”
“Not lately...” She doesn't get that much clients anymore. These men prefer bustier and big butt ladies.
He turned to face her. “I don’t like to share.”
Calla’s brows lifted. “Then don’t ask for an escort.”
That earned her a pause. Not anger, something more like amusement. Or curiosity.
“You always this mouthy?” He asked.
“Only when I think it’s worth the risk.”
He stepped closer, still calm, still quiet. “Be careful, Calla.”
She swallowed. That tone, it wasn’t a threat. Not quite. But it was a reminder.
She dropped her gaze. “Noted.”
He nodded. “I want something longer. Exclusive. You. For me.”
She looked up again, slower this time. “You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t need to,” he said. “I just need the fucking... and your answer.”
She stared at him. Her voice came low. “I need time.”
His eyes didn’t blink. “You have three days.”
Then, just like that, he turned away, picking up his drink again like they hadn’t just had that whole conversation.
She got dressed in silence, walked out without another word.
In the car, she stared out the window. The city looked softer through the glass. But her chest was tight.
He wanted her. All of her. 'Why?'
And she didn’t know if that meant safety... or a death sentence.
This wouldn't be the first time a client would ask for her exclusively, but this was somehow different. She couldn’t place her finger as to why.
When she got home, Eli was curled up on the couch again, fast asleep. She kissed his forehead and tucked him in.
Then stood at the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so hard her knuckles turned white.
She didn’t even know his real name.
But something told her… He knew everything about her.
