It’s an enigma to me, and maybe that’s why I’ve kept Alex around also, to study his peculiar behavior, to figure out this mystery. It’s rare when I meet someone I can tolerate longer than the minutes necessary to get what I need—and Alex presents an opportunity for insight.

He doesn’t restrain his emotions. He’s honest with them. An even rarer ability, as I’ve come to understand.

Or maybe it’s all just a gross fascination—one I’ll become bored with as soon as the job is done.

Let’s hope.

I look across the living room at Alex now. Head dipped toward his laptop screen. Dark hair messy and flopping carelessly. Teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he concentrates, making a dimple pop. Every so often, he checks the time. Not on his phone like a normal person; some compulsion forces him to look at his pocket watch.

If he doesn’t do this at least once during the hour, he becomes agitated. He talks faster, fidgets. Repeatedly runs his hand through his hair.

“We have a girl,” Alex announces. He looks up from the computer screen and stretches his hands overhead.

“I had no idea we were expecting,” I snark.

His features morph into something between a scowl and a smile. It’s cute. “Funny,” he says. “Maybelline Mayberry. God, I hope that’s a fake name. Ericson is sending a Town Car to pick her up at nine in front of a bar.”

I stand to stretch myself, working out the kink in my neck from staring at my phone for so long. We’ve been going over the plan for tonight. Making sure we have everything in place.

Alex has been using his program to monitor Ericson the past few days, waiting for him to order an escort. There was a chance he wouldn’t…after the last girl he ordered drugged him and left him cupping his balls.

But, as I’ve also come to understand, men like Ericson are creatures of habit. He likes to have a beautiful woman on his arm when he attends illicit functions. He likes to have a comfy place to park his cock. Paying for it—in his mind—entitles him to do with his possession as he wishes.

We discussed turning Ericson’s phone into the hot mic, but there were too many possible catastrophes. Alex getting caught bugging his phone for one, where Alex would suffer a far worse beat down than he took at the warehouse.

Ultimately, the escort was the only logical choice.

“Are you sure you can handle this alone?” I’ve asked Alex this before, at least once a day as we’ve formed our plan.