The Passenger by Daniel Hurst (ready to read books .TXT) 📗

brought her up on every single one of our dates. But unlike those other occasions where he would only reminisce about the happier memories like their holidays overseas or their times spent raising a family, now it seems he is focusing on the negatives. It’s the negative of never getting to be with the woman he loves again.

‘You don’t understand, Amanda. These dates might have just been work for you, but for me, they have given me a purpose. Something to look forward to when I’m sitting alone all day. It’s taken me a long time to find somebody at the agency whom I could trust and who would actually listen to me instead of just humour me. And now you’re leaving.’

I feel terrible. But what can I say?

‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Charles. If there was anything I could do to make you feel better, I would do it, but—’

‘Have one more drink with me.’

I’m surprised by the invitation, mainly because we both know our allotted time has come to an end.

‘I’m not able to do that, Charles. Agency rules.’

‘I’ll pay you if that’s what you’re worried about,’ he snaps back, and that only makes me feel worse because I know that he only thinks I am with him for the money. I was at the beginning, but I’ve gotten to know him since then, and I wish he knew that I saw him as a friend and not just a client these days.

‘I don’t want your money,’ I tell him, and I mean it. I just want to have a civil goodbye and get in a taxi.

‘Two thousand pounds,’ Charles says.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I’ll give you two thousand pounds if you come for one more drink with me,’ Charles says, and the crazy thing is that I can see that he means it.

‘No, thank you,’ I tell him, even though my mind is swimming with the possibilities of what I could do with that money. Considering I’m planning on quitting my job in the near future and pursuing the unreliable career path of an author, every extra penny would help. But I can’t accept the offer. It’s too much money, even for somebody as wealthy as him.

‘Charles, I think it’s best if we just say goodbye,’ I say. ‘I wish you all the best in the future.’

‘I’ll give you the cash tonight. Just one drink, that’s all I ask. Then we can say goodbye somewhere more comfortable than this street corner.’

I look at the old man standing in front of me, and my heart breaks for him because he didn’t ask for any of this. He was happy with his wife until she passed away and left him all alone. Now here he is standing outside a wine bar, throwing money at me just to give him a little more company before I leave him forever.

I check the time on my phone and figure I still have plenty of wiggle room before my last train home. I could stay with him for a little while longer, I suppose.

‘Okay, one more drink,’ I say, going against my better judgement. ‘But you’re not paying me. This one is on the house.’

I feel bad enough for this poor man as it is without exploiting him.

‘Excellent,’ he replies with a beaming smile, and it’s clear I’ve just made his night.

‘So where do you want to go?’ I ask as I drop my phone back into my handbag.

‘My place,’ Charles quickly replies, and he turns to walk away.

‘Hang on a minute,’ I call after him, suddenly regretting my decision to agree. ‘I thought we were going to another bar.’

‘I didn’t say that. I said one more drink somewhere more comfortable. I would like that drink at my apartment.’

This is definitely against all the rules that were explained to me when I joined the escort agency. Never mind no physical contact and not talking about personal issues. The number one rule was do not go back to a client’s apartment.

‘I can’t,’ I say to Charles. ‘It has to be a public place, or I can’t do it.’

Charles thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs.

‘Five thousand pounds.’

29

AMANDA

LATER THAT NIGHT

I shouldn’t be doing this. I should have said no. But £5,000 is a lot of money, and I’d be a fool to turn it down. I’d have to work for over two months in my office job to earn that. Or I could just have one drink with a lonely old man. Considering I’m preparing to leave my job, how could I turn him down? I can stretch that money out to last me a long time when I’m trying to make it as a struggling writer. So I said yes. I followed Charles home. Now we’re in his apartment, and I’m watching him make me a drink.

‘So what do you think of the old place?’ he asks as he pours me a measure of gin at the impressive mahogany bar he has fitted into his luxurious front room.

‘It’s amazing,’ I admit, shaking my head as I look around at the surroundings.

I can’t quite believe I’m in a place like this. It’s a palatial three-bedroom apartment in Chelsea, and while I knew it would be unlike any home I had been in before, I still hadn’t been prepared for the sight that met me when I walked through the front door and actually laid eyes on it.

The enormous rooms are filled with the very best furniture money can buy, with garish features like the giant bar, the enormous sauna in the bedroom and the huge hot tub on the balcony.

And the view.

Oh my, the view.

The apartment overlooks the Thames, and from this prime position on the banks of the river, we can see the boats sailing past and the lights twinkling on the water from all the high-rise buildings that line the edge of London’s famous inlet.

I dread to think what a place like this must cost, but it’s obviously in the millions.