Chapter 1
KEEP THOSE HEELS ON
DYLAN
I was in love with my sister’s best-friend, Katie Martinez, since the day she threatened my bully when I was in fourth grade.
A sigh escaped my lips when I hunched over, glancing at my phone and stalking her social media page like a creep.
I kept eyeing the quirky smile in her latest photo, which she always did when she was overwhelmed and needed to isolate herself.
If only I had been there for her work dinner, I would have gotten her favorite apple juice she sipped on whenever my sister threw parties and—
“Morning.”
I looked up to see Amanda and quickly scrolled out of her best-friend’s Instagram page and burped loudly.
“Ew, Dylan!” My sister rolled her eyes. “Can’t you act like a grown man for once?”
I may have grown taller (six-four, to be precise) with time, but I’d never grow out of annoying my sibling or the innocent little crush that had turned into a full-blown obsession of the woman of my dreams, Katie Martinez.
“I’m a grown man,” I said with a smirk, flexing my pumped biceps. I had broken my PR that morning at the gym. “Ladies loveeeee it.”
“Gross,” she said, ready to pinch my ear, but I got out of her way in time. “If you want to keep living in my apartment, then you’d have to behave. I don’t wanna know about your sex-life.”
I pulled my overnight oat bowl out of the fridge and grabbed a spoon before settling on the island stool. I watched her move around the kitchen to grab her lunch and get ready for her nine-to-five.
“That makes the two of us,” I said, chewing my food. “I had to listen to Metallica for five hours when you and your girlfriend were doing God knows what at midnig—”
Her cheeks flushed despite the tan, slapping my arm. “I don’t complain when you bring girls over—which, by the way, do you have some sort of harem?”
I didn’t meet her peering green eyes because if I did, I would be busted. I hadn’t told her about me being a professional woman pleaser, aka sex worker, aka an escort. After launching a million-dollar business with a close friend, I had stepped away from it and focused on what I wanted to do.
Katie. I wanted to do her.
But not before a date on a yacht, fine dining, and buying her a tub of blueberry cheesecake, her favorite.
She would love that.
That was why I had moved to Los Angeles, where I could be closer to her and maybe bump into her, since she worked at Opulence, the world’s biggest luxury jewelry store.
“I don’t have a harem,” I said truthfully.
“Whatever.” She grabbed her handbag and car keys. “I don’t care as long as you don’t get any STIs or STDs.”
My phone dinged with a notification from the app I used (and helped program) for getting clients for my job. I frowned seeing a single-letter ‘K’ message me, asking about my quotes for my services.
Who the hell asks about the pricing for sexual favors so professionally?
“By the way,” my sister poked her head through the door and said, “Katie might visit us this weekend.”
I almost dropped my phone into the overnight oats. “W-what?” I stood up and cleared my throat, pretending to stretch my arms. “Yeah, whatever, sure. I don’t mind.”
I’m so cool.
She frowned and shook her head. “Can you grab her favorite cheesecake when you get groceries?”
“Sure, whatever.”
So fucking cool.
I sighed when she left and stared at my oats.
The weekend was still four days away, but that meant I would finally meet her after six years.
I will look the best and woo her with my skills that I have been practicing for her.
So I can show her I’m not the kid who was shorter than her and needed her help in maths.
I would teach her math. Adding the bed, subtracting the clothes, dividing her long legs and praying we don’t multiply. But hey, even if we did, I wouldn’t mind.
After the shower and trying my best to behave and not think about her cute smile, I remembered the notification I had received previously from the escorting app.
I had helped a mutual friend and my senior, Caleb, program the app and named it Rented Romeo, where women could hire hot men to help them with plumbing, mowing their lawn, washing their car, be their plus-one at weddings, or any small tasks.
Since we had sold it to a big corporation, I could be considered retired.
I needed to be rich, hot and experienced if I wanted to date someone like Katie Martinez.
Before the app, I slept around a lot when I was in university, but after selling the app, I rarely met women.
K: Hi. I like your collection of anime post-cards, especially Levi. What are your quotes for your services?
Okay, weirdo.
I had that collection show up in one of my shirtless photos where I’m just in my towel, dripping with water.
I usually got hired by older women who wanted to show me off to their friends and pay me to hear them vent or virgins who wanted me in their arms as eye-candy for their college parties and to try to get laid.
But I had a rule. I would never pop someone’s cherry. Ever. Sleeping with a virgin meant she would get attached, so I only slept with experienced women. And that didn’t happen frequently, despite how my sister made it sound when she claimed I had a harem.
I had already married and grown old with Katie Martinez in my dreams, and I was head-on to make that dream a reality.
So, I wondered who this K was. Her profile was empty, with a black screen as her background.
I wondered if she was even a woman. I was straight as a pole, but sometimes men slid into my DMs thinking I would bend a little for them.
Dex: thanks, he’s my fav from aot
Dex: what are you looking for
I used Dex as my alias since I didn’t want to get doxxed. I didn’t tell anyone my real name.
Her reply came almost instantly, and I saw the three little dots appear and disappear.
K: Everything.
K: Can we meet today if possible? It’s urgent. I don’t mind paying extra.
K: Does that work for you?
K: Levi is my fav too.
My eyebrows shot up, and I sat down on the bed. She seemed desperate. Extremely desperate. Usually, I’d turn down women like her, but hey, she liked anime, and even though she seemed strange, I liked how she used punctuation after every sentence.
Dex: how old are you
K: 29.
Dex: do you mind verifying whether you’re a woman or not
Dex: im straight
K: Oh, okay.
I didn’t receive any messages for ten minutes while I changed into jeans and a plain tee shirt. I didn’t have anything to do that day, so I might meet her at a hotel. Maybe make out with her and help her out.
Ding.
I unlocked my phone and pulled up her message.
The breath hitched in my throat, lips parting, eyes widening as heat pooled low in my body. Desire tightened through me, sharp and immediate. Just from a single fucking text.
She had sent a photo. A mirror selfie.
She sat in a desk chair, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, a crisp white blouse stretched across her frame, the hem of her pencil skirt riding high enough to reveal the teasing shimmer of stockings.
Her short brown hair brushed her shoulders, effortless and tempting, while the glossy red soles of her stilettos glared like a fucking tease.
It was insane. Red-bottom heels were making me hard.
My gaze dropped to her hands, nails painted the same sinful red, before rising again to the phone concealing her face. The anonymity only made it hotter.
I wanted to see what she looked like.
She was sexy as hell, so why did she need me?
K: I wouldn’t mind sending a picture of my vagina, but that seems against the rules, and you are a stranger, so I would rather not.
I fixed my pants and sent her a response.
Dex: if we knew each other u would send me a photo of ur pussy?
K: No, it wouldn’t be appropriate.
I chuckled at her response and went back to her photo. She seemed rich with her Louboutin heels.
Heck, what’s wrong with just meeting her once?
Dex: let’s meet
K: Good. This is the hotel with room number 303. See you soon.
Dex: can you do me a favor
Dex: don’t change and keep those heels on
K: Why?
Dex: please
Dex: ill let you do whatever you want
K: Okay.
I changed my casual tee to a fancy shirt. I even applied expensive cologne and brushed my teeth once again before leaving my sister’s apartment.