She was about to shut the window when she spotted three tiny letters in the bottom, left corner of the screen. She clicked on shh and waited. Loading appeared in a small, spinning, circle centre screen and a soft, violin solo began. Eva jumped before quickly hitting the mute button.

A phone number appeared on the screen. Nothing more. No picture, or bio, or even a name. Eva tutted angrily. She hated clogged up, messy websites as much as the next person, but this minimalist crap was ridiculous. She wasn’t about to phone some random stranger. The site was a waste of her time and just made her feel more pathetic. She was about to shut the browser when an instant message popped up.

Eva’s eyes darted around the office instinctively and she could feel the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand like obedient soldiers to attention.

Her fingers hovered over her keyboard. She wanted to reply; she just didn’t know what to say, or who she was saying it to.

Eva pushed her chair back from her desk and tapped her pen on her knee. Well, of course, she had questions. She had loads. Did this guy just wait around all day for women to click on his website? Who was he? How in the hell did someone become an escort? Why in the hell did someone become an escort?

Eva rolled her eyes. Even cyber conversation made her look stupid.

Eva stood up. Did he seriously expect an answer? She paced the floor dramatically, drawn back to her screen only by the subtle tone of a new message.

Eva poked herself in the knee with her pen. Damn, he was good at this. But she had studied psychology for three years, there was no way she was going to let him beat her. She was ready to up her game.