Confessions of an Escort：The Dark Hobbies of the Wealthy - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
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I kept accompanying Vincent Roland to meet the heirs, over and over.
Each encounter left me wrecked, my body aching for days afterward.
My constant disappearances pissed off the spa manager until finally, I got fired.
When the pain got too much, I'd drag myself to the real estate office and just stare at that luxury home—my dream.
It numbed me better than any pill ever could.
Eventually, the heirs stopped pretending with the drinks. They got bolder, crueler.
To them, I wasn't even a person. Just a dog.
I came when called. Took the cash when dismissed.
None of them saw me as human—except Alexander Valdemar. He added me on social media.
Vincent called him "Young Master Valdemar," so I did too.
Alexander just didn't want to bother going through Vincent every time.
But Vincent lost his damn mind. He slapped me—hard—for the first time ever. "You stupid whore! You don't reach out to clients directly! Ever!"
I pressed a hand to my stinging cheek and glared. "Vincent, do you really think I'm nothing?"
"You've watched everything they've done to me. You know exactly how dirty I am."
"Damn right you are!" Vincent wheezed, collapsing back into the driver's seat, his face red with rage.
He fumbled for his heart meds, hands shaking.
I grabbed his wrist.
"Vincent, I've been meeting them alone lately."
"To them, you're just the clown who sets up their fun."
"That contract you were so desperate to sign? It's a setup."
"Once you finish the project, their inspectors will call it defective."
"They'll sue you. Drag it out for years."
"By the time you see a dime, inflation will've eaten it all."
I smiled, cold. "I'm their dog, but at least I get paid. What are you?"
Vincent's face went white, then purple.
His hands trembled.
Pills hit the floor as he clutched his chest, slumping against the wheel.
The horn blared—one long, screaming note.
I opened the door and stepped out.
You lied to me first.
Now I've lied to you.
We're even.
Each encounter left me wrecked, my body aching for days afterward.
My constant disappearances pissed off the spa manager until finally, I got fired.
When the pain got too much, I'd drag myself to the real estate office and just stare at that luxury home—my dream.
It numbed me better than any pill ever could.
Eventually, the heirs stopped pretending with the drinks. They got bolder, crueler.
To them, I wasn't even a person. Just a dog.
I came when called. Took the cash when dismissed.
None of them saw me as human—except Alexander Valdemar. He added me on social media.
Vincent called him "Young Master Valdemar," so I did too.
Alexander just didn't want to bother going through Vincent every time.
But Vincent lost his damn mind. He slapped me—hard—for the first time ever. "You stupid whore! You don't reach out to clients directly! Ever!"
I pressed a hand to my stinging cheek and glared. "Vincent, do you really think I'm nothing?"
"You've watched everything they've done to me. You know exactly how dirty I am."
"Damn right you are!" Vincent wheezed, collapsing back into the driver's seat, his face red with rage.
He fumbled for his heart meds, hands shaking.
I grabbed his wrist.
"Vincent, I've been meeting them alone lately."
"To them, you're just the clown who sets up their fun."
"That contract you were so desperate to sign? It's a setup."
"Once you finish the project, their inspectors will call it defective."
"They'll sue you. Drag it out for years."
"By the time you see a dime, inflation will've eaten it all."
I smiled, cold. "I'm their dog, but at least I get paid. What are you?"
Vincent's face went white, then purple.
His hands trembled.
Pills hit the floor as he clutched his chest, slumping against the wheel.
The horn blared—one long, screaming note.
I opened the door and stepped out.
You lied to me first.
Now I've lied to you.
We're even.
End of Confessions of an Escort：The Dark Hobbies of the Wealthy Chapter 11. Continue reading Chapter 12 or return to Confessions of an Escort：The Dark Hobbies of the Wealthy book page.