Micah's job as a host is to be whatever his clients want him to be and he loves it -- especially because pretending to be someone else is better than remembering what he's running from.
Mr. Daniel Hart, a client who had been expecting a female host is suddenly thrown into Micah's world and won't stop exploring until he knows Micah's secrets.
Unable to stay away from Daniel, Micah continues to return to high society functions and is therefore reminded of the terrible scar on his chest and the man who gave it to him. Micah wants nothing more than to belong to the artistic Daniel, but being with him could mean having to face his dangerous past.
"You're open for tomorrow." Lance glanced at his computer, clicking his mouse. "Then you have an appointment with a Mr. Hart."
Micah was surprised. "I don't remember Mr. Hart."
"He's new. Requested the most beautiful escort we have."
Micah covered his laugh with a cough. "Didn't he bother looking at the website?"
"Sounded like he decided to get an escort last minute," Lance said, clicking some more. "He didn't want to take the time to look through pictures."
One thing Micah loved about The Kline Agency was that while most escort services posted full body shots and bios on their websites, Kline posted only profile shots, no faces. Potential clients had to register first. Full-face pictures only went out to email after Lance ran a background check. Micah couldn't hide if his picture was blasted all over a high volume website.
Lance sighed. "Get some sleep."
"Yeah, I'm tired." Micah unclasped the hair clip. "Is Candace back yet?"
"She's with her favorite client. But she said you could keep the clip. Something about how that color looks better in dark hair than red."
Micah nodded, replacing the clip before grabbing his bag. He would change when he got home.
Candace's hair clip stuck to the side of his head, pressed tightly because he'd worn a knit cap. His gloves had a hole in the right index finger, reminding him he had to buy a new pair before winter came and New York got seriously cold. The Kline Agency office was in a good part of the city. The streetlights were always working at every corner, and the cars lined up were clean without a scratch.
His studio was nice enough, considering how quickly he'd had to move and the funds he'd had available at the time. Unlocking the door, he kicked aside a pile of mail. He recognized letters from his mom, and his ex... they only brought back the terrible decisions he'd made.
Kisaki, a kitten he'd rescued, was waiting, rubbing his head affectionately against Micah's leg. "Hey baby," Micah cooed, dropping his bag on the table. "Hungry?" He held Kisaki with one hand while sifting through his cupboard for a fresh can of cat food. "I'm hungry too."
The scent of wet food had barely hit Micah's nostrils when he heard his phone buzzing from his bag. "Hello?"
There was a pause before a familiar voice made Micah cringe. "Don't hang up this time."
There was no way Micah was staying on the line. Breathing heavily, Micah slid to the floor, pressing the end button before resting on his side, one hand on Kisaki's back as he lapped up his food. He'd have to get his number changed. Again.