Eric stopped his jog completely, his enhanced stamina making the transition from running to standing barely noticeable. His breathing was elevated but controlled, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Zara looked up at him with that amused expression she seemed to reserve specifically for him, those warm brown eyes taking in his improved form with obvious appreciation.
"Taking a break?" Eric asked, gesturing to the bench where she sat.
"Five-minute cooldown," Zara confirmed, patting the space beside her invitingly. "Join me? Unless you're in a hurry to finish your workout."
Eric sat, acutely aware of how close she was. The expensive perfume that clung to her despite the morning run filled his senses. Jasmine and something darker, muskier. It was distracting in the best way, making his pulse quicken for reasons that had nothing to do with exercise.
"So," Zara said, taking a leisurely sip from her water bottle, her eyes never leaving his face, "you never called."
Eric's eyebrows rose. "We only exchanged numbers two days ago."
"Exactly. Two whole days." Zara's tone was teasing but held an edge of genuine curiosity. "I gave you my number on Sunday morning. It's now Wednesday. That's practically a lifetime in modern dating etiquette. I was starting to think you weren't interested."
"I've been busy," Eric said, which was the understatement of the century considering everything that had happened since Sunday. The fight with the Obsidian Fang brute, Sarah's confession, multiple client appointments, his entire life shifting on its axis. "Work stuff. Life stuff. Complications."
"Work stuff," Zara repeated, her warm brown eyes studying him with renewed interest. She tilted her head slightly, pink hair catching the morning light. "What do you do for work, Eric Reid-Leveson? You never said. And I realized after you left Sunday that I know practically nothing about you except that you're terrible at running but improving rapidly."
Eric hesitated, weighing how much truth to tell. He'd gotten used to lying about his profession, had a dozen cover stories ready depending on who was asking. But something about Zara's straightforward manner, her direct way of speaking, made him want to be honest.
"I'm a consultant," he said, using his usual euphemism but deliberately leaving it open-ended. "Private clients, mostly. Specialized services that require discretion."
Zara's smile suggested she understood exactly what kind of services he meant. "Specialized how?"
"The kind that requires discretion and pays very well," Eric elaborated carefully. "The kind where client satisfaction is paramount and repeat business is built on trust and performance."
"Ah." Zara didn't look shocked or judgmental, just increasingly intrigued. She leaned back against the bench, completely relaxed. "So you're a gigolo."
The bluntness caught Eric completely off guard. Most people danced around the subject, used euphemisms, pretended not to understand. Zara just said it straight out.
"That's... incredibly direct."
"I prefer honesty to dancing around subjects," Zara said simply, taking another sip of water. "Life's too short for playing games with language. You help lonely people, they pay you for your time and skills. Nothing wrong with that as far as I'm concerned. It's a legitimate service industry."
Eric relaxed slightly, some of the tension he'd been carrying bleeding away. "Not everyone shares that perspective. Most people have strong opinions about what I do."
"Most people are hypocrites who judge others for doing what they themselves would do if they had the courage or opportunity," Zara said bluntly. "They pay for emotional labor from therapists, physical labor from trainers, domestic labor from cleaners. But somehow paying for intimate companionship is scandalous? That's just societal hypocrisy built on outdated morality."
She stretched her legs out, the movement making her athletic bodysuit shift in ways that were absolutely deliberate and incredibly distracting. Eric forced his eyes back to her face.
"I'm not most people," Zara continued, her smile widening slightly. "I believe consenting adults should do whatever makes them happy as long as no one's being hurt. You're providing a service, getting paid fairly, everyone involved is happy. What's the problem?"
"I'm starting to notice you're not most people," Eric admitted, finding himself genuinely liking this woman. Not just physically, though God knew she was attractive enough to make his mouth dry. But her mind, her directness, her complete lack of pretense. "Most people I meet either judge me or fetishize what I do. You're just... accepting it as information."
"Because it is just information," Zara said. "It tells me you're comfortable with your sexuality, good at reading people's needs, professional enough to maintain boundaries. Those are all positive qualities. Why would I judge that?"
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching early morning joggers pass by. The sun was fully up now, painting everything in warm golden light. The park was starting to fill with people, dog walkers and exercise enthusiasts claiming their spots.
"So tell me about yourself," Zara said, turning to face him more directly. Her knee brushed against his, a casual contact that sent electricity up Eric's leg. "Beyond the work. Who is Eric Reid-Leveson when he's not being a professional companion?"
Eric considered the question, trying to figure out where to start. "I'm twenty-two. I have a PhD in Business Administration from Westmarch Institute that I'm not currently using for anything remotely related to business administration. I graduated early, top of my class, had job offers from consulting firms."
"But you became a gigolo instead," Zara supplied. "That's quite a career pivot."
"Grew up in foster care at Bright Hope Orphanage," Eric continued, the words coming easier than expected. "Got lucky with adoptive parents when I was seven. Professor and attorney, very focused on academic achievement. They pushed me hard, made me into the perfect student. PhD at twenty, published research, the whole academic success story."
"And then?"
"And then I discovered I hated all of it," Eric said honestly. "The corporate world, the expectations, the idea of spending forty years climbing a ladder I didn't care about. My foster parents had already cut me off by then, disappointed I wasn't following their vision. So I ended up in Stardale with a useless degree and no clear direction."
"So you monetized your other talents," Zara concluded, no judgment in her voice.
"Exactly. Turns out I'm very good at making women happy. And it pays significantly better than entry-level corporate positions while aligning much better with my interests."
"Your interests being?"
"Women," Eric said honestly, meeting her eyes directly. "I've always loved women. Everything about them. The way they think, move, talk, exist. Multiple women, specifically. I'm not wired for monogamy, never have been. Even before this became my profession, I knew I couldn't be satisfied with just one partner."
Zara's expression didn't change, didn't show disapproval or disappointment. "Fair enough. Monogamy isn't for everyone. The pretense that it's the only valid relationship structure causes more problems than it solves."
"You're really okay with that?" Eric asked, genuinely curious. "Most women I tell that to either write me off immediately or think they can change me."
"I'm really okay with it," Zara confirmed. "I'm not looking for a white picket fence and exclusive commitment anyway. I'm too busy building my company for that kind of domesticity. Your relationship philosophy isn't a problem for me."
Eric filed that information away, intrigued by the implications. "What else about me do you want to know?"