Two
I’m proud of it. My editor is proud of it. It’s getting the clicks we expected and then some. I’m so happy with it.
To celebrate, I’m going to enjoy take out pasta from my favorite Italian spot around the street, a big bottle of wine, and some trash TV.
What else could a girl ask for?
Once I’ve changed into a pair of comfy shorts and a sports bra, I pull my hair into a high ponytail and plop down in front of the television with my box of food in tow.
I’m one episode and half of a container of carbonara down when a very brusk, stern knock sounds from my front door.
I check the time on my phone and see that it’s pushing nine pm, and I’m not expecting anyone, so naturally, my true crime loving senses are tingling.
And because modern technology is the real MVP here, I open up my doorbell camera app to see who this could possibly be. It takes a moment for the live video feed to load, but when it does, my knees nearly buckle in shock and confusion.
Theo Moretti is standing at my front door.
“What the fuck? What the actual fuck?" I whisper out loud. He knocks again, clearly unhappy with how long I’m taking to answer, so I say loudly now. “I’m coming. Hold on one second.”
I tidy up as best I can, which is a lost cause in the ten seconds I have to do so, pause by the mirror next to my front door, checking to make sure I don’t have anything in my teeth or on my face.
What could he possibly want, at my home, this late in the evening? Only one way to find out.
I pull the door open and find him, in all of his intense glory, leaning with one arm on my door frame casually.
He’s so close to me that I can smell his very expensive cologne.
He’s wearing a black suit but any tie he may have had has been discarded and the top button of his crisp, white shirt is unbuttoned. He looks delicious.
“Mr. Moretti. Hi, um, how can I help you?” I ask him, trying my best to sound as unaffected by his presence as possible.
“Do you have a moment to talk, Ms. Thomas?”
“Yeah, sure. Is something wrong?”
"No, not exactly. Is there a place you’d prefer to go or may I come in?” He tilts his head and waits for my answer. He reminds me of a villain in a romantic suspense movie. I’m drawn to him in a way that could be so bad for me.
“You can come in.” I step back and open the door wider, allowing him the space to enter.
My apartment is small, cozy and I love it, but seeing him in the space, in all of his emmaculate glory, is making me anxious in my own home.
“Cute place,” he tells me as he reaches out and fingers the fabric of a Mandala tapestry I have hanging on the wall in the living area, where I do yoga in the morning.
“Thanks. I like it." I clear my throat then start picking up my mess from dinner. “Just let me put this stuff away. Are you thirsty? Can I get you a drink? I have water, juice, wine, soda, I may have a beer in there.” I’m rambling. I know I am, but I can’t help it.
“I’m alright, thank you though.” He slides his hands into his pockets and I can feel his eyes on me the entire time I move around in the kitchen. Damn this open concept floorplan.
I return to him and stand about three feet away, crossing my arms nervously across my chest. “Did you see the article? Is something wrong with it?”
“We did see it, and no. The article was complimentary and lovely. We appreciate the honesty and the light you shined on our many charitable efforts.”
“You came all the way to my apartment to tell me thank you for the article?”
To this, he smiles and chuckles nearly under his breath. “No. We should have a seat for what I’d like to discuss.”
“That’s really ominous. Should I be scared?”
“That would depend on what you find scary.” I watch his eyes move down my body then back up to my face. “Nice outfit.”
It’s then that I remember I’m standing essentially in booty shorts and a sports bra. While all of my bits are covered, they definitely aren’t hidden.
“Shit,” I reach over and yank my jacket off the back of my dining room chair and pull it on, zipping it up to my chin. “Had I known I was having company, I would have put on clothes.”
“Trust me, Lillian, I much prefer the way you opened the door.”
Honestly, I’m at a loss for words. That doesn’t happen often, so I simply ignore what he just said and motion to my living room. “Let’s sit.”
He nods once and follows me over and takes a seat on the chair I read in by my large, bay window, so I sit on the far end of my sofa to allow myself some space.
I don’t know what this could be about and I just feel like I need to be over here rather than right next to him.
I’m not scared. He doesn’t frighten me, but I’m a bit overwhelmed by his presence.
We sit in silence for a moment, a proverbial game of chicken, to see who is going to speak first.
Thankfully, he does.
“I wanted to discuss and offer from Alexander and I have for you.”
My brows furrow in confusion. “Like a job offer?”
To this, he smiles. “Not exactly.”
“Then what is it?”
He leans forward a bit and rests his forearms on his knees. This is the most casual I’ve ever seen him. “Alexander and I have a unique relationship, as you know. We’ve spent our entire lives sharing everything. Friends, secrets, houses, businesses… and now we want to share you.”
I take back what I said. I’ve now been rendered speechless twice in one night.
I shake my head, not saying no, but trying to rattle my brain around to process what the fuck he just said to me. “What?”
He leans in closer. “I’m going to speak clearly and be very frank, as I don’t want there to be any miscommunication or misunderstanding about what we are offering.
We would like you to accompany us to our vacation home in Fiji for two weeks.
During which time, you’d be at our disposal to wine, dine, pamper, and…
explore together. We’d cover everything financially.
The only thing you’d have to worry about is enjoying yourself and pleasuring us. ”
“You came to my house to personally ask if I’d be…” I pause to find the right words. “interested in being a… prostitute…” I pause again for just a moment. “for you and your business partner slash brother slash best friend?”
“I didn’t ask you to be a prostitute. I’m simply offering a mutually beneficial transaction between three consenting adults.
Don’t try to find some morally black issue with it.
There isn’t anything under the surface than wanting to have a nice, intense, gratifying vacation.
I have a feeling you could use it just as much as we could. ”
The last thing I expected him to discuss with me was this. I could have been given one hundred chances to guess what this conversation would consist of and I never would have guessed this.
“I don’t understand. This is so… random.”
“On the contrary, it’s anything but random. Alexander and I have spent two weeks discussing this before making the choice to come here with this offer. This isn’t something we take lightly. We can’t.”
“What do you mean you’ve been discussing this for two weeks? How can you discuss me in that way without even involving me?”
“Lillian,” he says, now leaning back casually in the chair.
“There are many factors we have to consider before proposing an arrangement like this. Why would we come to you without first deciding between the two of us that you are someone that we’d want to spend this time with?
Now that we have agreed, the ball is in your court. ”
“What kind of things did you have to discuss about me?”
“We did a background check to make sure you didn’t have any legal skeletons in your closet that could cause an issue later.
We ensured you weren’t in a relationship, at least not married.
We discussed our physical attraction to you, which, of course, is important.
There are logistics, obviously, for everyone’s physical safety that you’d have to agree to before anything could happen. ”
I’m suddenly very hot, very overwhelmed, and need to stand… so I do. I rise from my seat and step a few paces back away from him.
“You’re discussing a sexual relationship like a business transaction. It’s a little bizarre for me. It might surprise you to know this is the first time I’ve ever been asked anything like this before.”
He nods once. “I understand it’s unusual, but Alexander and I have certain wants and desires, but we also have a business to manage, teams to employ, et cetera.
That means we have to be cut and dry about certain things, but trust me when I say, if you agree, this conversation now will be the only part of this that feels like a transaction.
Once you agree, and we have you in paradise, you’ll be ours to pamper… adore… worship.”
If my heart was racing before, it’s going to burst out of my chest now, barreling through the checkered flag and making a few extra laps around my apartment.
“You know… this is quite the offer but…”
"You don’t need to answer now. We’d never expect you to agree without thoroughly considering it, so I’ll leave you with a bit of information then be on my way.
These are the not so fun details but important nonetheless.
Alexander and I are regularly tested and can provide that proof. We ask that you do the same.”
“Can’t be too careful.” I say then I nod. “That makes sense.”
"As I said,” he rises to his feet. “Take a few days to consider, and if you choose to accompany us, call me and accept. We’ll handle everything for you from there.” He reaches up and tips my chin up with a crooked finger. “I hope you say yes.”
I swallow audibly, feeling totally exposed with his eyes so focused on my face, but I can’t look away from him. “Why?”
“Because you intrigue me, and I want to know what you feel like… look like… sound like… when you’re completely letting yourself go.”
He doesn’t stay any longer, and doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He just smirks that wicked smile of his and waltzes directly out my door.
I’m left a trembling pile of nerves, confusion, and arousal.
What. The. Fuck.