Chapter Seven
Dominic
I sat, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, my hands on either side of the chair as I leaned back, curiosity crossing my expression. “You have news for me?” I asked, peering over to where Jeff was pouring himself a drink at the bar he had in his office.
The guy was a smug ass, but he was the best in the business, and he knew it. He wore the most expensive suits, walked with his nose in the air, and thought the whole damn world revolved around him. He was the very definition of a tool. You could call him that straight to his face, though, and it wouldn’t faze him.
In our lines of work, it was easy to get caught up in the whole thing—a.k.a. the influx of cash. I supposed you could say what we did was lucrative. Although, like with everything else, it wasn’t a sure thing and could go bye-bye at any given moment. That was why I tried not to let said cash get to me.
“Single malt?” he inquired, holding up the bottle.
“I’m good,” I answered casually, my hand now grasping my ankle. Any day now on enlightening me as to why I’m here.
“Suit yourself. A client gifted me this shit, and it’s the most expensive crap I’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.” He held his glass up and went to sit down behind his desk. “Cheers to the rich motherfucker who gets more deals than he deserves.” Then he took a long sip, hissing through his teeth when he let up, staring at the glass before setting it down.
“Jeff, you said you needed to see me. What’s it about?” I pushed, seriously wondering if he even remembered asking for this impromptu meeting.
He sniffled, scratching his nose before clearing his throat and holding his hands together on the desk. “Right. Well, I suppose the most important question is, are you seeing anyone?”
Excuse me? I couldn’t see how that was any of his business, but before I could tell him to shove his question where the sun didn’t shine or to start explaining himself, there was a light tap on his door. A voluptuous blonde popped her head in, her lips pursed as she breathed heavily, her eyes fixed on Jeff. “Wes Myles is on the phone. Says it’s urgent.”
I watched the exchange enraptured. I didn’t expect anything less from Jeff, to be honest. Oh, to fill you in on where my head was at—I would’ve bet my car, Spitfire, that he was sleeping with her. They were obvious—her gaze trailing down his body, him smirking like a jackass. Then there was the wink. From him, not her.
“Why don’t you tell him to call me back, sweetheart? I’m in a very important meeting with a VIP client.” VIP client my ass. We were all VIP to Jeff. But with that, she was gone, the door closing behind her. “Now where were we?”
I harrumphed, tapping my fingers on my calf. “Figures you’d be such a cliché that you’re sleeping with your secretary.” With the way he casually called her sweetheart , I prayed for his sake he had a good labor and employment attorney on speed dial because, at this rate, he’d need them at some point. It was men like him who gave us all a bad rep. I mean, sure, he was single, so he could do what he wanted, but this was a douchebag move if I ever saw one.
He brushed me off, getting comfortable as he leaned ridiculously far back in his chair. “Did you see the rack on that one? Come on! I’m nothing if not an opportunist. I saw an opportunity to share a bed with her and took it.” He shrugged. “We weren’t talking about my sex life. We were discussing yours. So you got a woman?”
That was a loaded question if there ever was one. No, actually, I don’t. What I do have is a complicated relationship with my best friend who doubles as my occasional fuck buddy. More occasionally than not lately, but that’s a whole other story. Oh, but it’s a secret because no one knows about us—minus her half sister—and we’re hoping no one else will find out. “What’s this about?” I probed, wanting more information before I answered one way or another.
“I’ve got a cologne company who wants you, but they have some requests. If we can make it work, then it’s a done deal. And when I tell you it’s a campaign you’re going to want to be in on, I mean it.”
What cologne company? Better yet—“Requests?”
“Well, they also have a new perfume line, so they want a couple for the campaign.”
That didn’t sound like a big deal. “They can’t pull in any female model for the gig?” I modeled with women all the time. Now should really be no different. So why did I need to be in a relationship with the woman?
Jeff took another sip of his expensive drink. “Well. . . .”
The man hemmed and hawed way too much between talking points. I just wished I could pull the words out of him because who knew when he’d spit them out. I exhaled. “Out with it, Jeff.”
He pushed off his desk and walked to his floor-to-ceiling window with the best view in the city. Finally, he announced, “It’s a nude shoot. Something about the only thing you’ll be wearing is their cologne. It’s genius if you ask me, but they have their heart set on a modeling couple because of how intimate they want it to be.”
I considered his words while he reached for his drink and took yet another sip.
“Your member will be covered up by the woman, so no worries there.”
Yeah, the nudity wasn’t the part I was hung up on, but okay.
“What’s the brand?” Not that it’d matter. I really didn’t have any moves here. Technically, I wasn’t with Maria, and even if I was, she would never go for it. I could call on any random woman I knew or had slept with, but that felt like a bad idea for far too many reasons.
He named the brand, and I let out a low whistle. “Shit.” This was the luxury Italian fragrance company. Being part of this campaign would be a game changer for me. “And they want me ?”
“If you have a woman you can bring in. It’s going to be all about chemistry and authenticity, and they don’t seem willing to budge on that.”
I uncrossed my leg and sat manspread, my elbows on my knees as I leaned forward. “So, I’ll be naked, but will she?”
He arched a brow. “That would look a little weird, don’t you think? Yeah, she’ll be naked. You’ll both be naked.” He grinned. “Basically, you’re one lucky bastard because this will catapult you and could lead to some very nice sex post-photoshoot. So, you got a woman?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How in the hell are they okay with this idea if she isn’t a model? Or do they just assume models date models?”
He shrugged, clearing his throat. “Doesn’t matter. They’re looking for authentic, raw sexual chemistry. What aren’t you understanding here?”
Authentic, raw sexual chemistry. Yeah, I’d say Maria and I had that in spades. But there was no way she’d go for it. I knew Maria, and she’d refuse. Flat-out refuse. Naked? I mean, there was no way. Besides the fact that she wasn’t comfortable being in front of the camera on a good day, she’d be in her head the entire time. Then again, I wasn’t interested in doing it with anyone but Maria. It seemed wrong any other way.
“So what do you say?” Jeff probed when I didn’t answer. “You must have a slew of women you can call on, if not one. Even a purely sexual relationship will do. Don’t disappoint me now. This could be huge.”
I got up and pushed the chair in, nodding as I made my way to the door. “Thanks for letting me know, Jeff.” That was about all he was getting from me right now because I needed to think.
Maybe talk to Maria. Feel her out.
“Wait,” he called, clearly confused by my brazen disregard for his question. I still wasn’t answering it, by the way. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”
I cracked my knuckles and opened the door, throwing over my shoulder, “I’ll get back to you.”
“You’re a pain in my a—” I shut the door behind me, cutting off his words.
* * *
Maria
I leaned against the side of my desk and studied the mock-up layout for the center spread of the next issue. We were doing a spread on fashion through the ages, interviewing several designers about how fashion had evolved and where they thought it was going next. It had been my idea, and my dad had approved it almost immediately, saying it added a layer that he thought our readers would take interest in.
The only thing was that I felt like it was missing something. I placed my finger on my lip and swayed my head back and forth. What was it?
The layout was beautiful, don’t get me wrong. But it was like there was nothing to back it up. “That’s it!” I exclaimed to myself in my office, loving the breakthrough I’d just had.
I walked to my door, opened it, and tried to get my assistant’s attention. “Daphne!” I called.
Her head popped up, and she turned to me. “What can I do for you, Maria?”
“I need you to get in touch with all of the designers whose designs are featured on the fashion through the decades spread and see if they’d be interested in taking these looks or similar looks out of archives.”
“What for?”
“I’m hoping I can convince Perla to do a last-minute photoshoot. I think that will make all the difference, and we can reference the pages from the photoshoot layout that highlight the look on the center spread. It was missing something and that’s what it is.”
Nodding, Daphne turned around again and picked up her phone. “I’m on it,” she shouted, already dialing.
Daphne was a gem. I couldn’t do my job without her. I actually started considering if I’d bring her with me to the editor-in-chief position. I’d need an assistant, and we had a great rapport. It made sense but could also hurt this department. Whoever I brought on to fill this role would need someone with experience to lean on. That was Daphne to a tee.
I pulled out a notepad and jotted a note reminding myself to figure this out later. Besides, let’s be real, it’d all started with a pros and cons list anyway. I had Bellissima to think about, not just myself.
“Who are the flowers from?”
A husky voice filled my space. Dom. My ears perked up, and I looked at him in my doorway.
Tilting his head toward the vase of white roses on the corner of my desk, he probed, “So?”
“Paolo Gicchio. You remember him, right? We collaborated on a collection with him last season for fashion week.” We’d debuted it in Milan, and it had been quite the hit. Minus all the drama with Bianca and Knox, and then Knox’s ex, Rina, who had wanted him back, having shown up with a man on her arm to make Knox jealous. . . it had been a whole ordeal and was definitely a story for another day.
Suddenly Dom had his tongue in his cheek, and his jaw was twitching.
I leaned back in my desk chair and crossed my arms. “All right, what gives? You look pissed.” Pissed would actually be an understatement. If steam could have come out of his ears, it would have. What was his problem?
He scoffed. “Please. I’m not.” Not buying it.
“Tell your jaw.” I rolled my lips and stood up, grabbing my purse. “Anyway, you ready to go to lunch?” As if on cue, my stomach growled.
He chuckled and placed a hand on the small of my back as we walked out together. “Yeah, and I don’t have to ask you. Your stomach spoke for itself.”
I laughed. “We’re going to the food truck by the park, right?”
“Sure. If that’s what you want.”
“What I want is greasy comfort food. I’m thinking mozzarella sticks and onion rings.” My eyes rolled back in my head, and I licked my lips just thinking about the greasy goodness.
“Did you bring a heating patch with you to work today? Because you always forget and then suffer in silence, which is no good. Maybe you should keep some in your desk drawer so you’re never without.”
I gasped. “How did you—” All right, I didn’t know why I’d attempted to ask that. This was Dom we were talking about. He pretty much knew everything there was to know about me. Well, that and the greasy food was probably a dead giveaway, considering I always craved things like onion rings and mozzarella sticks when I was menstruating.
He cocked a brow. “We’ve been friends for a long time,” he said, voicing my own thoughts. “Every time it rolls around, I hate to see you suffer.”
Nodding, I smiled. I lucked out in the friend department, what could I say?
“So, why’s Paolo Gicchio sending you flowers?” he asked as we stepped out of the building and into the New York sun.
Dom slipped his aviators on as I explained, “He’s in town and wants to take me out.”
“Why?”
I inhaled deeply and laughed, my shock and insult obvious. “I don’t know. Is it really that hard to imagine someone like Paolo wants to take me out?” It wasn’t like I didn’t date. And, sure, Paolo wasn’t like the other guys I’d dated—he was famous and successful—but did that really change anything?
Dom shook his head. “I didn’t mean that. I just don’t think he’s your type.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure I have a type. Except nice. And someone who likes kids, obviously.” One glance at Dom beside me, and I could tell he was suddenly tense, but I had no idea why.
Through gritted teeth, he asked, “What else? You clearly have a list.”
My stomach turned over, which was the biggest sign that I didn’t want to be talking about this. It felt strange. If you could believe it, this was one topic we really hadn’t talked about. And we talked about everything . My menstruation, case in point. “I don’t know. Hey, what are you ordering?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“He lives in Italy, you know.”
Narrowing my gaze, I stopped and studied Dom. It looked like Dom. Sounded like Dom. But suddenly this man wasn’t the Dom I knew and adored. This wasn’t my best friend. He was acting off. “I know,” I said carefully, my words measured. He was making it out like Paolo and I were ready to tie the knot. He had simply suggested we go out. I wasn’t even sure it was his intention for it to be a date, that was just a leap Dom seemed to be making.
* * *
Dominic
What did Paolo have that I didn’t?
Okay, besides his own brand.
He had an empire, a legacy.
Then there was his wealth. Not that I was bad off. I had money. I depended on my savings in between gigs, but still, I was financially independent and could support a family if I had to.
He lived in Italy, like I said, so he could give Maria a life there she never even dreamed of having, but let’s be real, Italy had her heart, and she would probably love to live there. Shit, she could even open a Bellissima office there, giving the magazine an international address. In the very city that was known for its fashion—Milan.
He already knew—and had worked with—her family, so they’d welcome him with open arms. Isabella would probably adore him.
Great, just great.
All right, so apparently, I was going to torture myself by thinking of the things he had.
Maybe Marco was right. Stupid, smug ass. He was never right, by the way, so I’d have to keep that one to myself. Couldn’t have him thinking he was some sort of genius. It was for his own good. Marco didn’t need any more self-confidence. He had that shit tenfold.
But it didn’t change the fact that he had put it in my head—not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind once or twice before—that Maria wouldn’t be available forever.
I knew we had promised emotions wouldn’t get involved, but they did. For me, at least. Somewhere in the middle of our arrangement, I fell for her. It wasn’t changing, either. My feelings weren’t going away. If anything, the more I saw her, the more we slept together, they were increasing. I tried not to be obvious about them, and I thought I’d done a pretty great job so far, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t killing me.
I had to make a bold move and fast because if Paolo was who I was up against, he could whisk her away and then that’d be that. My chance would have flown right out the damn window.
Every single time she dated someone, I thought if this is what makes her happy, if he makes her happy, then I’ll let her go . At the end of the day, that was all I wanted. I was deluding myself, though, because I wanted more than that—I wanted her to be with me.
Forget lunch, I wanted to throw up.
I peered at Maria across the picnic table from me. She was fishing out an onion ring and had never looked happier. It was that look that gutted me, that look of pure bliss. Sure, it was beautiful and seeing her happy shouldn’t have gutted me, but I wanted her to have that look when it came to me. And she did, but it wasn’t the same. There was always an undertone of friendship lurking there for her.
It wasn’t like she really wasn’t my friend, too, because she was, but it was impossibly difficult to forget about my feelings for her. The way I wanted her. And not just as friends with benefits, but all of her. Her heart. Not just her body.
Meeting my eyes, Maria laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
Trying desperately to get out of my head, I smiled. “It’s no problem.” I took a bite of my burger. “Hey, have you ever considered modeling?” This might’ve been the wrong time to bring this up, but suddenly it felt like if I didn’t act fast, I’d lose any chance I could remotely have. And my bold move was pretty much handed to me on a silver platter, and I was done being a fool, so I was taking it.
Maria tossed her head back in laughter as she put her drink down on the table and swallowed a sip. “Are you kidding me? No! Can you imagine how horrible I’d be at modeling? I’d be so uncomfortable.”
Yeah, I thought you’d say that.
“So what’s going on with you? I know we’re having lunch, but what else brings you to the city?” she asked, not entertaining my question for another second.
Man, how I wanted to tell her that I didn’t need an excuse to come into the city to see her. How I’d go to the ends of the earth just to see her. No questions asked. Too intense? Yeah, well, try being in my head because apparently, I was the love intensely type of guy. Who the hell knew? “Not much. Jeff had an interesting offer on the table for me.” I took another bite of my burger, needing a distraction before the inevitable where I stupidly told her exactly what the offer entailed in hopes that maybe, just maybe, she would say she was interested.
Don’t say it because I already knew I was a delusional fucker.
Maria finished off a mozzarella stick and licked her fingers. Hot damn, what I wish she was licking off her fingers instead right now. “I love greasy food. I’m sorry, but I do. Eating healthy is great, but this right here from Mo’s is the best.” I nodded. “Anyway, tell me about the offer.”
I swallowed hard and put all my energy into acting casual about the whole thing. “There’s this fragrance campaign. I’d be the male model for the cologne—”
“That’s great!” Maria burst out enthusiastically.
“But they want a woman opposite of me for the perfume.”
“Okay, nothing new there,” she said, nodding and taking another bite of her food. “So the job is yours?”
I shook my head. She might want to let me finish before she got all excited.
“What’s the problem? Did you not accept?”
I pushed my burger aside. I didn’t think beating around the bush was going to get me far. I needed to come right out and say it, say how this could involve her, too. Too bad that was easier said than done. All right, let’s try again. “They want the models to be a real-life couple.”
“Oh, really?” She picked up another mozzarella stick. “That’s new.” Then she swallowed. “Although, I have to say, it is a great marketing tactic.”
Sure was. “I thought the same thing.”
“But you don’t have a girlfriend,” she noted, chewing her mozzarella stick and pointing the second half of it my way.
I raised an eyebrow and waited while she got there.
Then she dropped her food and swallowed hard. For a second there, I thought she might choke with the way her eyes went wide, and her cheeks flushed. “Wait! We’re not a couple, Dom,” she whisper-shouted at me, leaning over the table, eyes intense. “Did you tell Jeff we were?”
“No. Of course not.” Because that would be wishful thinking.
Exhaling a breath, she looked all too relieved. Now you saw why I’d never told her how I felt? Something (read: everything) told me the feelings were one-sided. “Thank goodness. So, what’s the plan? Find a fake girlfriend? Ohmigod, is this why you asked me about modeling?”
A fake girlfriend? Why in the hell would I want to do that? That would only add unnecessary complication to my already complicated situation. Plus, I didn’t want to date any woman, fake or otherwise, unless her first name was Maria and her last was Morelli.
This was taking too long. I needed to rip the bandage off already. I drank my soda and looked at Maria. Here went nothing. “It’s about chemistry and attraction, so I don’t think I need an actual girlfriend, just someone I have those things with. Someone like you.” There. I did it. I said it. Damn it, someone hit me upside the head because I hated the way I sounded to my own ears.
“Like me?” Maria brought a hand to her forehead and rubbed it. “I don’t know, Dom. I’m not a model, and, like I said, I’d be uncomfortable.”
I shrugged casually. “You don’t have to be. I’ll be there.”
“That’s sort of a main reason why.”
“How come? We sleep together. It’s not like anything can be more intimate than that.”
Her eyebrows formed a deep V. “Why me? You can’t find any other woman to do this with?” Her eyes wandered off to the side.
It was a good question, and I wished like hell I had a good answer, but I didn’t. All I had was the truth—that if (and that was a big if ) I did this, I wanted to do this with Maria. “I thought it could be fun. We’re friends, sure, but we have pretty good chemistry.” Don’t ride my ass, I already knew my answer was lame.
“Don’t you think people would find it odd that I’d be doing it with you?”
She wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it mattered. “Who gives a shit? Haven’t dozens of people thought you and I were an item anyway over the years?” I mean, I didn’t have actual stats, but I was pretty sure. Someone was always assuming we were more than best friends. And sure, they would’ve technically been right these past few years about us being more than friends, so what was the difference now?
“True.” Maria picked up her soda and sipped, and I could see the gears in her head turning. “I guess I’d be open to learning the details. Do you know when it’d be? Where?”
Pulling my burger back in front of me, I picked it up for another bite. The hard part wasn’t over, but I’d definitely made progress. “I don’t, but I’ll find out. So you’re open to it?”
“Why not? It’d be good for your career, I assume, otherwise Jeff wouldn’t even entertain the offer, and this feels like a very small thing I could do for you, so yeah, I’m open to it. Just let me know the details.” Maria smiled and looked back down at her food.
See, she thought the conversation was over. It wasn’t, though. She was still missing one teeny, tiny piece of information. It really was such a small, almost insignificant detail, right? She already agreed, so was being naked in the shoot going to change her mind? It could be argued that she’d be fine with it since we were naked together a lot, what with our lack of significant others and healthy sex drives. I’d hesitated enough. Now for the hard part, and with her not looking at me, it made it easier somehow. “I do know one detail.”
“Mmm.” Maria swallowed. “What’s that?”
She was still looking down at her food, and I was calling that a win, so I blurted out, “We’d be nude.”
Maria’s head shot up, and she looked like she was going to choke on her food again. After slapping a hand on the table to compose herself, she swallowed and stared directly at me. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I heard you correctly. Did you say nude? As in no clothing?”
I nodded.
“You and me? Photographed without clothes? For the whole world to see?”
Again, I nodded. “Yep.”
“Are you out of your mind?” She wiped a finger around her lips. “You kind of buried the lede, Dominic Deluca.”
Shit. “So that’s a no?”
“That’s a hard no.” Then Maria laughed. Actually laughed. “I can’t believe you thought I’d do that. I’m a little surprised you’d do that. Aren’t you worried about your mother or nonna seeing you like that in the ads? Or Isabella?”
Putting a hand up, I had to stop her. “Whoa! Of course I am, but Jeff said I’d be covered. By your body, actually.”
“What? So we’d be pressed up against each other, our bodies totally bare? How in the world does anyone think this is a good idea? You know what happens whenever we’re naked together,” she said and eyed me suggestively, curling her index finger up in the air.
I ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah, I’d thought about that, but I figured we could rein it in. A little restraint in the moment for a big payoff after the fact. We could have dressing room sex.” As the words left my mouth, I realized that wasn’t a bad idea. It could be fun.
Plus, the idea of her naked body pressed up against mine got me going.
Maria collected her trash and slung a leg over the bench, standing up. “Sorry, but I haven’t completely lost my mind. Unlike you, apparently.”
Running to catch up with her, I tried to think of a way I could save this. While I’d easily pass up the opportunity if it was just about the money or my career, I was suddenly very interested in the prospect of doing this with Maria, being that vulnerable together. Watching her come into her own through the experience. And then rewarding her in the most carnal way possible afterward.
“Wait up,” I called, closing the gap between us. “Listen, I have an idea. You were open to it before you found out we wouldn’t be wearing clothes, so maybe you are open to it, period. And being naked, that’s no big deal. We sort of do it a lot.”
“Yeah, but in private. Not forever captured on film.” That was half the reason it was so good.
“We could practice by making a sex tape?” I said, having it come out as a question. Although, my mind was suddenly going to a million dirty places. Places it had no business going to right now. But I couldn’t be blamed—could I?—because this was Maria we were talking about, and I knew surprisingly little restraint where she was concerned. Regardless, I shook my head as she raised an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes. “Okay, bad idea. What if we made a little wager?”
“What kind of wager?”
“I play you for it. If I win, you do it. If you win, you don’t.”
Maria sighed and stopped, coming to stare at me. “Dom, don’t get me wrong, the idea is hot as hell. It sounds very sensual, and I’m sure it’ll be directed in a very tasteful manner, but this doesn’t feel like me.”
“And on and off sex with your best friend does?” I countered.
Another sigh escaped those beautiful lips of hers. “By what method would this wager happen? Cards?”
My mind reeled. So many possibilities. Then it came to me. I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “Chess.” The game of life.
“Chess?”
“I play, but not often enough that I’m like my father. You’ve played before. Feels fair.”
Maria narrowed her gaze like she was contemplating it. Then she answered, “Fine. I’ll play you. But do me a favor and never bring up your father again when we’re talking about being naked or anything even remotely close.”
I laughed and swung an arm over her shoulder, falling into step with her as we started back toward her building. “You got it.” I wasn’t going to lie—I felt good. Better than good. I felt like a damn king.