His Call

By: Emma Hart

A novella in the Call series.




I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.

- Augusten Burroughs





The One Where They Meet Again




I step from the car and adjust my tie, my eyes falling on the Southfall Hotel in front of me. My reason for being here is merely to be a scapegoat, to take the pressure off of my father’s retirement.

And the rest of the functions over the next few weeks, both here and abroad, are all for show. To let Naomi know that, unless she signs those divorce papers, she’ll be walking away with a little less. It’s a petty, childish game I’d rather pass over—much like our divorce. Petty.

I bat those thoughts from my mind for the evening and approach the reception desk. The young woman behind the counter smiles at me.

“Good evening, sir, and welcome to the Southfall Hotel. How can I help you?”

“I have a private booth booked in the bar. Mr. Stone.”

She smiles. “Ah, of course, Mr. Stone. And a…Ms. Lopez?”

“That’s correct. Can you send her through when she arrives?”

“Of course. If you follow Neil here, he’ll take you to your booth.”

“Thank you”—I glance at her name badge—“Rachel.”

She gives me another kind smile as I follow the young boy into the dimly lit bar. He stops in front of a curtained booth and slides it along the rail.

“Your booth, sir. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Ah, no, thank you. I’ll wait until my date arrives.”

“Very well.” He nods and turns, leaving me to enter the booth alone.

Yes. My date.

The date I required but didn’t have. The date I’m being forced to pay for although the very thought is against everything I believe in. Paying for a woman’s time seems derogatory and demeaning, no matter how willingly it’s offered.

I lean back in the seat, exhaling deeply, and rest my hands on the table. Shit, I’d give anything to not have to do this charade. I’d do anything not to—

“Thank you.”

I recognize her voice before she opens the curtain. I’d know it anywhere—that seductive tone that falls straight to my cock the way it did the first time I heard her speak. Every hair on the back of my neck stands to attention in anticipation of the woman I know I’m about to stare at.

But I fight to keep my eyes down. Fuck, I want to look at her. I want to see how much she’s changed, see how different she is as a woman than the girl I fell in love with.

A sharp intake of breath follows the swish of the curtain shutting. Then I hear the sweetest fucking sound I’ve heard in a long time—my name from her lips.

“Aaron?”

I look up now, straight into the gorgeously dark eyes of the woman I never imagined I’d ever see again. My eyes comb over her. Her long, dark hair, curled slightly at the ends. Her wide, coffee-colored eyes shining with the shock I feel taking my own body hostage. Her glossy, pink lips that look as soft as they were.

She’s the same but so different. She’s older, curvier…and so much fucking sexier. A fact that makes my cock twitch inside my pants.

“Dayton?” I stand slowly, never taking my eyes from her.

“What…” She puts a hand to her chest, steadying herself. “You’re my client?”

I wave toward the seat, unable to believe she’s standing here. In front of me. Wondering why the fuck she is and where the hell Mia Lopez is. She sits slowly, her chest rising and falling quickly, and I gaze at her.

“You’re my date? I hired a Mia Lopez?”

“Mia is my working name,” she says quietly, glancing down. “Being an escort is a double life.”

Dayton is an escort? A call girl? My Dayton?

“I can’t believe this.” I push a button and a waiter appears. “A bottle of Pinot Gris. Two glasses,” I order without looking at him.

My eyes are locked on the woman in front of me. The woman whose body I know as well as my own yet whose mind is a complete enigma to me. I can’t imagine any reason she’d do this, what could possibly possess to put herself in a situation to be taken advantage. Why she’d offer a body as wonderful as hers to an unlimited amount of men.

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