“You have turned out to be the opposite of what I expected. You can't concentrate, you contradict me, you challenge me... I don't think I should continue working as an escort.”

“Do I challenge you?” I question, raising an eyebrow.

He looks around, making sure no one is watching us, and runs both hands down the sides of his head as a gesture of exasperation.

“Just come upstairs with me, I promise I won't touch you," he says quietly, making sure no one else hears.

“Okay," I agree with a sigh. Decker presses the call button, the doors open, I step in first and he follows me. His perfume floods the cabin and hypnotizes me. He smells so good; I like Sebastian Decker more than I'm willing to admit.

“He really didn't try anything.” Asks my best friend Jessica, her brown eyes widening as I tell her about the night I spent with the poker-faced German billionaire.

“Really. We entered the huge suite, and he said to me in a thick, arrogant voice: "At twelve o'clock, Dimitri will come for you" -I mock him. And then he started to walk away towards one of the rooms. “And did he leave?

“No. She turned around and added: "Take off your dress and jewelry, you'll find a change of clothes in the room. I also need you to muss up your hair a bit, as if I had fucked you."

I remember the tension I felt between my thighs when he pronounced "fucked hard" and the movie that took place in my head: the two of us on a bed, his hot and strong hands running over my skin, his mouth devouring me.... But he started to pull away and left me there, with that burning desire growing inside me. How could I feel that way? The man never touched me again, that approach at the party was not an attempt at seduction, it was just part of his performance.

“Oh, my God, is that what he said?” screams Jess, opening her eyes wider.

“And you know what the worst part is, he wanted me to do it. What does that make me?” I ask with a tinge of embarrassment forming on my cheeks.

“That makes you a woman who hasn't had sex in three years. Don't try to call it anything else, Keira, because you know better.

“I don't get it, Jess. -Why him? He's cold, secretive, controlling, obnoxious, rude... He's not my type.  

“Well, it doesn't matter. Nothing is going to happen between Decker and me, that's for sure. Besides, there's no room in my life for anyone else but Angel. He's everything to me.

“Keira..." He pronounces in a reproachful tone.

“We've been over this, Jess, you know I'm right. No man would accept him, and I'm not ready for anyone else to reject him.

“I know one who does..." he begins.

“Stop that! You better get your ass off the couch and go do your morning exercises," I order with annoyance. I'm tired of having the same conversation repeatedly with her.

“I'm not saying you're in a relationship. There's something called casual sex, you know? You don't even have to tell her about your life. You go to a bar, you meet a guy, you let him offer you a drink, and then...

“Oh, yeah! I hadn't thought of that.” My tone is pure irony. “Remember the last guy I met in a bar; he offered me a drink and then...?”

“Well, then in a gym, or in a coffee, or maybe online...?”

I walk away as the list gets longer, and I stop hearing his voice as I enter the room and close the door. I walk over to the crib where my son is and watch him with a smile. He is awake, his honey eyes shift restlessly, unable to focus on any one spot, but when I caress the pale skin of his cheek, they stop for a few seconds and meet mine. They are beautiful and warm, filling me with a strange sense of peace, but at the same time melancholy. The doctors say that his vision is not good, that maybe he only notices a dark blur when he looks at me, but I like to think that it is not so, that he distinguishes my face, that he sees me.

I lift him off the mattress and cuddle him in my arms.

“Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?” I ask him while kissing the ash-blond hair on his little head.

Angel suffers from a genetic disease called Microcephaly with Cerebral Atrophy, complicated with Craniosynostosis. In words, you can understand, his brain is small, it will not grow and there is nothing that can be done about it. I found out when I was sixteen weeks pregnant, at one of my follow-up visits. The doctor explained to me that the best thing to do was to stop the pregnancy, but I couldn't do it, I didn't want to. I kept telling myself that it was all a lie, that he was healthy and that the doctor had made a mistake.

Angel's father did not understand me, he did not support me, he wanted me to abort him, he said it was not worth bringing a sick child into the world. He told me that if I did not stop the pregnancy, I would have to leave his house because he would not take care of the expenses of "that child", as if it were not as much his as mine. So, I packed my bags and left his apartment. He didn't look for me, I didn't call him either, or that was that. I went from living in a luxury penthouse in Manhattan, with a man I thought loved me, to a small apartment in Brooklyn with my friend Jessica. The plan was to stay with her for a couple of months, until I found my own place, but when Angel was born, my savings turned to dust, and the hospital bills started piling up. I didn't care, I just wanted to have my baby and give her my love.

According to the doctors, he would not live beyond the first year, but he is already three years old, and he is still here. And while he is with me, I will fill him with kisses, songs, love... He is my son, I love him no matter what, and he is the reason I came to Ladies of Gold. My salary as a waitress was not enough to pay the hospital bills or to cover the cost of his consultations, therapies and medications. If all that remains a reality, I will continue to work as a companion. I am the only person he has, and he needs me.

This morning, I got a call from my boss, she informed me that Decker wants to hire me to accompany him to a dinner tonight and asked if I was available. I played dumb and asked him for a moment to check my schedule, but of course I could. And even though I shouldn't work for him again, because of those crazy feelings he aroused in me, I agreed. I can't afford to be turning down work, the invoices I keep in my nightstand drawer confirm it.

Half an hour after speaking to Astrid, the mobile line I had assigned to Ladies in Gold announced a call from the grumpy German's secretary. I answered willingly; she politely indicated that Mr. Decker would pick me up at seven o'clock at Crowe Plaza, Time Square and that I should wear the clothes he had chosen for me, as if that were news. I kiss Angel goodbye and leave him with Lucy, one of his nurses, who will be changing shifts in half an hour with Pamela, the night shift nurse. They are both excellent and love my little boy. I know he will be well cared for with them. Later, after getting my key from the front desk, I ride the elevator up to the room Mr. Decker reserved for me. I arrive two hours early to give me time to change and put on my makeup. I usually rent the dresses I'm going to wear, but Mr. Controller doesn't seem to have much confidence in my good taste.

“Good afternoon, Dimitri.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Morrison," he replies with a nod.

As I reach for the lock to slide the key in, he steps forward, inserts his own copy and opens the door for me. I was a little surprised, to be honest, but not as surprised as walking into the foyer of the suite and seeing Mr. Decker sitting in an armchair, talking on the phone.

What is he doing here?

I'm completely paralyzed. I don't know whether to walk towards him or turn and run. This is the first time I've ever been disturbed like this by a client. I'd like to think it's my inadequate appearance and lack of makeup that's making me nervous.