Before Cate: Cathouse Cinderella, #2

By Cat Johnson

I thought my life was over, and then I met her . . . and wouldn't you know it, she's a hooker.

I figure it's fate paying me back for every bad thing I've ever done, because a prostitute has to be the most inappropriate match a man in my position can make.

Still, I can't stay away.

One taste and Cate had a grip on me like some illicit drug. I know it's bad, but it feels so good. She's a hallucinogenic. She makes me believe it doesn't matter who she is, what she is, as long as she's mine, and I know I won't be able to rest until she is. Mine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cat Johnson
• Release date: Jun 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781393114758

Cat Johnson

New York Times & USA Today bestselling contemporary romance author Cat Johnson. Sign up at catjohnson.net/news to get new release and sale alerts.

Book preview

I thought my life was over, and then I met her . . . and wouldn’t you know it, she’s a hooker.

I figure it’s fate paying me back for every bad thing I’ve ever done, because a prostitute has to be the most inappropriate match a man in my position can make.

Still, I can’t stay away.

One taste and Cate had a grip on me like some illicit drug. I know it’s bad, but it feels so good. She’s a hallucinogenic. She makes me believe it doesn’t matter who she is, what she is, as long as she’s mine, and I know I won’t be able to rest until she is. Mine.

1

M r. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton for you on line one.

The interruption had me closing my eyes and blowing out a breath in frustration.

It wasn’t the secretary’s fault. She was simply doing her job. It wasn’t Laurel’s fault either. Generally, my wife wasn’t the type to call and bother me for no reason. But right now, with my desk strewn with rolled building plans, contracts and pink notes listing all the people I had to call and had no time to, the last thing I could handle was yet another person tugging at me and demanding my attention.

My concentration had already been broken so, resigned, I hit the button to put line one on speakerphone. Hey.

Hey. When are you coming home?

Laurel’s question elicited a laugh containing a good dose of bad attitude I couldn’t hide.

You’d think the seven-digit profit share I’d gotten at the end of last year, on top of a salary and perks that most men only dreamed of, would make the long hours, stress and insomnia seem worthwhile. You’d be wrong.

I’ll be lucky if I get home before sunrise. Why? What’s up?

Nothing. It can wait. The disappointment in her tone twisted the proverbial knife in my ulcerated gut.

I sighed. I worked this hard to provide for her—the expensive haircuts and clothes and cars, a house bigger than any two people could need, fancy dinners and trips, and everything else she’d grown up accustomed to.

I worked this hard because her father had left this business to her brother and me when he’d died and I couldn’t let everyone involved down.

Still, it seemed the more I worked, the less happy Laurel was.

Want to meet somewhere for a quick dinner? I glanced at my watch and saw the afternoon had already slipped away from me. I’d have to go back to work right after, but I can get away for an hour.

How about rather than a restaurant, I meet you at the suite? I can order room service and we can relax without being bothered by anyone.

I smiled. That sounds perfect.

Laurel knew exactly what I needed. Always had. One reason I’d married her the month after she’d graduated from college.

Six o’clock all right? she asked.

Sure. Sounds good. The one good thing about having more work than any man could accomplish in a day, is that an hour wasted here or there made little difference in the total scheme of things. I’d be up half the night working anyway, so I might as well be well fed to counter the lack of sleep.

I’ll call and remind you to leave around five forty-five.

I laughed. Yeah. Good idea.

My wife knew me well. If she didn’t call, I’d work straight through. I might realize sometime around nightfall if I noticed it was dark outside the windows behind my desk, but even that was doubtful.

I’ll see you later. She sounded much happier now and really, it hadn’t taken all that much effort on my part. I’d have to remember that.

See you later. I hit the button to disconnect the call and turned back to the pile of work, my workflow good and broken now.

I eyed the dreaded pink slips and figured I might as well get a few of these messages out of the way. I had an hour before Laurel would be calling to remind me it was time to leave.

The hotel where the corporation maintained a suite was just down the block. I could walk there. It was currently empty since we had no client in town that we, as a company, needed to host. We’d provide the usual perks and entertainments—wine them, dine them, hook them up with anything they needed from tickets to escorts, all in hopes of closing the deal.

But when the suite wasn’t in use for work, we could use it ourselves. More than a few times I’d crawled there to sleep for a few hours before coming back to the office, rather than drive home.

Which reminded me—I needed to call Brady. He took advantage of it more often than I did, and the last thing I wanted was for Laurel to walk in on one of her brother’s more creative uses for the suite. My brother-in-law had long ago discovered the posh hotel acted like an aphrodisiac on the women he took there.

Brady’s name was on one of those many pink slips of paper cluttering my desk, so I could kill two birds with one stone.

I used my cell phone, rather than the office phone. Brady might not answer if the call came from the office. He always answered when it came directly from me.

Hello. He sounded out of breath. That could mean any number of things. Some innocent. Some, not so much.

Brady, I’m returning your call. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.

No worries. Just got done with a workout. I’d called to see if we’re all set for our meeting in Vegas on Monday.

We are. I eyed the pile containing the contracts the lawyers had wanted me to study before this meeting. I supposed there’d be time during the flight for whatever I didn’t get to. It’s just a preliminary meet with the client’s representative, so it shouldn’t be too hard. Right?

But from what I’ve heard, you don’t get into the inner sanctum to meet with the wizard himself until you prove to the front man that you’re worthy. John, I did the legwork and set up this meet, but he’s only going to sign on the dotted line if he’s impressed with you. You’ll be the one overseeing the project.

Great. No pressure there. I can handle it. We’ll get it.

I have no doubt. Brady’s complete faith in me raised my stress level another notch.

I moved on to the other reason for my call. Um, before you go. You weren’t planning on using the suite this evening, were you?

I hadn’t, no, but now that you’ve asked, I find I need to know why you’re asking. There was mingled excitement and suspicion in Brady’s voice.

I rolled my eyes. I’ve got a hot date.

Do you? And whom might she be?

Brady was a strange man. I always got the impression that if I were to ever cheat on his sister, he’d be okay with it. Not that I planned on it, but still, Brady’s open attitude toward my marriage with Laurel baffled me. It had since my bachelor party when Brady, as best man, had delivered to me in my hotel room a stripper and told me to have a good time.

I didn’t do anything with her, of course, but my brother-in-law’s offer had been there nonetheless. And that was why, all kidding aside, I needed to set him straight now.

Laurel’s meeting me there so we can have dinner together, then I’m coming back to work.

Ugh. Boring. I was hoping for some intrigue.

When did I have time for that? I laughed at the concept. What kind of intrigue?

I don’t know. Maybe an exotic foreigner you met at that Thai restaurant you like so much. She’s here with her husband who’s loaded and looking to invest in a major construction project so you’re wooing her to influence him. Or maybe a working girl you spotted while driving home in the middle of the night. One look and you knew you needed to have her.

"That last delusion of yours is the plot of Pretty Woman, jackass."

Fine. But that first one could happen.

Uh, no. I’m not planning on taking one for team to close a deal. That can be your job.

Brady sighed dramatically. I will gladly bear the weight of that assignment.

I’m sure you will. The problem would be fitting the client in between all of Brady’s other conquests. All right. Let me get to the rest of these calls before I have to meet Laurel.

What time do you need the suite?

Six.

For how long? Brady asked.

Why? You said you weren’t using it.

Yes, but now that you brought it up I’m remembering what a babe magnet it is. I might go out later and find that I need it.

I shook my head. Fine. Just wait until after we’ve finished dinner.

You got it.

This was the difference between our positions. Brady kept his eyes open and his ear to the ground. At the country club, at the gym, in the press, at fancy parties. He targeted potential clients and investors and made first contact. He got to wine and dine them, close the deal, and then I moved in.

I was more involved with the nuts and bolts of the project, sometimes literally, right down to inspecting the steel on the job sites. Once the deal was closed, I met with the architects and construction managers. I supervised the building or renovations. I made sure everyone adhered to the schedule and deadlines. Until now, we’d stuck to projects in California, but if we landed the deal Monday, I’d be flying to Nevada at least monthly to oversee it.

Which meant I’d have even less time with Laurel. I glanced at the work remaining and stood. Fuck it. It would all wait. I grabbed my suit jacket off the back of the spare chair in my office and headed out my door.

I’m having dinner with Mrs. Hamilton, and then I’ll be back. I have my cell phone if you need me.

My secretary’s brows rose, even as she said, Yes, sir.

I knew what she was thinking though she’d never say it. It was already five on a Friday. There’d been times I’d needed her to work late. Lucky for her tonight wasn’t one of them so I added, You’ll be gone for the day by the time I return, so have a good weekend.

Yes, sir. Thank you. Maggie looked relieved.

At least I’d made her happy. Now I needed to get on insuring Laurel was happy with me, as well. I hit the flower shop across the street from the hotel. It was outrageously overpriced and had a crap selection, but it was convenient. I spotted some lilies, Laurel’s favorites, and got the salesgirl’s attention.

I’ll take those, please. Flowers and dinner. That should go a long way to make up for my having to work most of this weekend before flying out Monday morning to sew up this deal for Brady.

I’d never been a people pleaser, but it seemed I sure a hell was one now. Maggie. Laurel. Brady. And Monday, I’d need to please the assistant to some Texas oil baron, so fucking rich he didn’t know what to do with all his money so he’d decided to build an arena just outside of Vegas with it.

Yearning for the simple life I’d likely never have, I paid for the flowers the salesgirl had wrapped for me and crossed the street to the hotel.

The desk clerk knew me on sight. Good afternoon, Mr. Hamilton.

I nodded. Afternoon. My wife here yet?

Yes, sir. She just arrived. Would you like me to call up and tell her you’re on your way?

No, thanks. I’ll surprise her.

That I was early and hadn’t needed a reminder would be the biggest surprise, even more so than the flowers.

I let myself into the suite with my keycard and she jumped, holding her hand to her chest. John. Good lord, you scared me.

Sorry. I cringed and moved toward her. Maybe these will make up for it.

She took the flowers, her expression softening and telling me I’d done good. Aw. They’re my favorite.

I laughed. I should hope I’d know your favorite flowers. We’ve been together seven years.

We’ve been married seven years. She laid the flowers on the table in front of the sofa and turned back to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. We’ve been together ten, counting college.

Of course. You’re right. I sometimes forgot how beautiful she was. Near perfection, with the same genetic good looks that landed her brother Brady so much pussy. Blond hair, blue eyes, mile-long legs that looked killer in short skirts.

I rested my hands on her waist and bent to kiss her. Something I didn’t do enough lately. We didn’t have time for sex all that much lately either. Maybe that could be our dessert.

She stopped me before I hit her lips. Can we talk before dinner gets here?

Halting in my downward decent toward her mouth, I nodded, even though I was pretty put off she’d rather talk than kiss me. But I suppose we didn’t get enough time to talk either.

Laurel led me to the couch and took both of my hands in hers. She was smiling so wide I had to smile too. What did you want to talk about?

I’m pregnant.

Those two words caused such a turmoil of emotions in me, I couldn’t process it all. Are you sure?

She nodded. Yup. I went to the doctor today.

Wow. The idea of fatherhood put a fear in me I hadn’t expected. I could barely keep the people in my life