Free Forbidden To Say No - The Billionaire's Plaything (An Erotic Romance Novel) by Ashley Spector

almost lose track of what comes from my mouth:
    "I didn't meet with him. It was another casting agent. And I didn't get the part."
    Did I just lie? Lie to my twin sister ? Her face contorts into a picture of over-emphasized sympathy, and she wraps me in a gentle hug, forcing my head onto her shoulder, and letting me ponder the implications of what I just did. Am I lying to protect him? I mean, Carissa's my sister, but she does have a big mouth. Or, maybe I'm lying to protect myself; I don't want the whole neighborhood - or even the person closest to me – to know that I gave myself away to a man I hardly know last night. I don't know, but for the tiniest moment, it hurts.
    I thank her for her sympathy, before picking up my 'groceries' and pacing to my room, shutting off the world and its troublesome politics. I'll guess I'll have to tell her sometime. But, why right now? I'm having fun, and for the first time in my life, I feel content in my employment. I shut the blinds, and try to count on one hand just how many times I've lied to my sister this past year.
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    I'm still asleep when the call comes through; 7 AM sharp. Thankfully, my cell phone this time rings five or six times before I gather the presence of mind to answer it. An unknown number. Could it be him?
    "Miss Everett." Those words immediately arouse me from my slumber, shaking out of me every last desire to put my head back to the pillow.
    "Oh, Daniel!"
    "Did you I wake you?" He sounds both concerned, and monotonally unbothered at the same time. I consider lying once more, but then I think better of it. Who's going to really believe I wake up before 7 AM? In the brief pause I take to process his question, I hear my heart thumping a tempered, nervous chorus in my ears.
    "Yes, but it's okay."
    "Right. It's day one for you. New job, new responsibilities!" He sounds almost excited, never raising his voice an octave. I do love that businessman-like enthusiasm. "Come to the Dervishire building before nine. You'll find it on your cell phone. Bring your shopping, and something easy on the eyes to wear. And don't be late."
    And with those terse, bellowed directions, he hangs up, before giving me the chance to profess my undying excitement and enthusiasm for this new 'job'. I haven't even signed anything yet, but I don't suppose it matters. I spring out of bed - six-hours' worth of idle, dreamless sleep long behind me - going immediately to my wardrobe, throwing something tawdry over my shoulder to the bed, and head to the shower.
     
    ***
     
    Sure enough, the building is easy enough to find; a hundred meters of radiant, glowing glass that stretches far into the cloudy Hollywood sky like a ladder to the stars. There must be fifty floors in this place; come to think of it, I don't think I've ever even been in a skyscraper before. Even my auditions were mostly held at hotels and drama schools. This is something new.
    "Hi, I mean morning," I say to the rather bored-looking receptionist behind the ornate, glassy entrance desk. She stops fiddling with her platted blonde hair for a moment to give me the privilege of eye contact, before going back to the magazine she's undoubtedly got hidden in front of her.
    "Do you have an appointment?" Why do I always get treated like shit by reception staff? Is it the way I look? The crummy lives they've had to live, or the fact I'm obviously working a job much more important than them? Jesus, listen to myself Chlo ! I'm already letting skyscraper living get to me.
    "Daniel Grant," I confidently announce, resting one arm on the counter, and leaning upon it with a smug grin. She ferrets around with a mouse and keyboard for a moment, before letting me see her blue, resentful eyes once again.
    "I'm sorry, Daniel Grant has a meeting this morning."
    "Wait, what?"
    I scratch my head, wondering just where to go with this next, as I feel a soft fabric brushing against my arm. I turn my head quickly enough to see a head of