Chapter 3 Lexi
THREE
LEXI
Igroan as I collapse next to Mr. Whiskers on my bed.
I’ve tried every dress I own, as well as every dress Riley owns, and none of them are right.
I’m hours away from meeting the man that could be my perfect match, despite the algorithm only deigning us a partial, and I have nothing to wear.
Nerves roll around in my stomach as the orange ball of fluff headbutts me, his purr coming as a welcome comfort.
How do animals know when you need them?
I’ve never had a pet of my own, but my friends who have them always talk about how their furry best friend is the first to know something is wrong.
There’s a part of me that knows Nico Sinclair won’t be the man for me.
It may just be because he lives so far from Seattle and moving feels impossible, or maybe it’s just the reality that I’ve been ignoring for years.
That no one else is ever going to fill the empty place in my chest that isn’t the one person I can never have.
I shake off the thought and reach for my phone beneath the pillow where I stashed it so I wouldn’t keep obsessively checking it.
After a few messages back and forth two days ago, he’s gone quiet again, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of something I’ve done.
Maybe he’s lost interest in me.
Maybe he’s found someone else. Someone real.
Sometimes, when the loneliness has been too much to bear, I’ve wondered how compatible we truly are.
If messages are anything to go by, we’re a perfect match, but that’s the problem with meeting people online.
You don’t know who they truly are until you meet, and that’s the one rule I made for myself when I started my account.
Never meet in person.
If it weren’t for my Mafia ties, I would probably have ditched that rule a long time ago, even if I never actually went through with meeting anyone, but I can’t risk my life like that.
If an enemy family got wind of what I was doing and posed as someone else, they could so easily take me, and then I would have to explain to my brother that I’ve been a cam girl for the last five years.
Hard pass on that, thank you very much.
That’s a conversation I never plan on having with my overprotective big brother.
And I won’t be doing this forever. Soon enough, I’ll be a Mafia wife, and this chapter of my life will be closed.
Even as I think it, my heart pangs. Not because sharing my body on the internet is my dream job, but because it’s the only thing in my entire existence that has ever been just for me.
CJP: I miss you.
The three simple words make my heart explode and butterflies run rampant in my stomach.
It’s stupid and reckless to have feelings for a man I’ve never met, but I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t feel anything for him.
I don’t even know his real name, for God’s sake. Only his screen name.
Like I said, pathetic.
Wildcat: You’ve been quiet again.
CJP: I know, I’m sorry. Work has been…frustrating.
Wildcat: How long until your boss is back?
CJP: Another two weeks at least, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he extended his trip.
Wildcat: Selfishly, I hope he doesn’t.
CJP: Me too.
CJP: What are you up to?
Wildcat: Trying to find something to wear for a date.
It occurs to me to lie. I probably shouldn’t be sharing this part of my life with a stranger on the internet, but are you really strangers when you’ve spoken every day for years?
Yes, stop trying to justify it to yourself, the voice in the back of my head reprimands me.
I watch as the three little dots come and go, indicating he’s typing, but it takes far longer than I expect for his reply to come through, especially given how short it is.
CJP: Send me the options. I’ll help you choose.
Wildcat: You don’t have to…
CJP: It’s no hardship seeing you in a pretty dress. I promise.
I nibble at my bottom lip as I glance at the pile of dresses again.
This is crossing a line.
I’ve made a conscious effort to keep my personal life completely separate from my cam girl life, but the lines have blurred between us in the past when I’ve been lonely and needed someone to talk to. Asking him to help me get ready for a date, though?
It’s going too far.
What does it say about me that the only person I can ask for outfit advice is a stranger who pays me to make spicy content for him?
I shake the depressing thought off and push myself up off the bed, once again looking over my options.
It needs to be understated but not boring, which basically wipes out ninety percent of what I have laid out. All my Mafia princess attire is boring, by design, and almost everything else is too risqué for a first date.
JCP: Don’t make me beg, Wildcat.
Heat touches my cheeks like it always does when he calls me by my screen name. It’s dumb, but I have no reaction to any other man that subscribes to my content calling me it. But then, the fact I have feelings for a nameless, faceless man on the other side of a screen is also fucking stupid.
I reach for a little black dress that dips just low enough to show a touch of cleavage and is slightly longer than most of my other dresses and slip it over my head.
I step in front of the mirror and angle the phone to keep my face out of frame before snapping a couple of photos to choose from because I’m bound to hate at least half.
Keeping my anonymity is both the most challenging and the most important part of my site.
Being a Mafia princess means I’m easily recognizable, and therefore it would be easy for Cruz to find out about this little side hustle if I’m not careful to hide my identity. It’s easier in still photos but exponentially harder in videos.
Wildcat: Option one
Wildcat: *sent a photo*
I quickly swap dresses for a shimmery romper I bought last year in Paris when Mom and I took our annual girls’ trip. It’s a little flashier, but I guess I want him to think I’m making an effort, so maybe it’s a better option than I initially thought.
Wildcat: Option two
Wildcat: *sent a photo*
After a quick look through the remaining options, an idea forms in my head, and I smirk to myself as I strip out of the dress I’m wearing and snap a photo of the lingerie I’m wearing beneath.
It’s a simple lace bra and thong that leave little to the imagination.
I’m planning to change into something less sexy before leaving, because I have exactly zero intentions of sleeping with Nico tonight.
I snap a couple of shots, choose one, and send one final photo.
Wildcat: Option three is just for you *heart emoji*
Wildcat: *sent a photo*