2. The Cesare Special
The Cesare Special
Ifidgeted in the waiting room, twirling my thumbs against the soft white robe, experiencing the most unrelaxed fifteen minutes ever. Despite the tranquil Bali-inspired playlist and the soothing eucalyptus scent from the oil diffuser beside me, I was the most uptight I had ever been in my life.
Exhaling, I mentally told myself to stop spiralling.
It was just a massage. If I wanted it to be more, I could make that decision for myself.
There was no pressure. Yet I couldn’t help but let my gaze flick around the room at the three other women waiting as well.
Were they horny little pleasure seekers like me?
A pretty woman wearing a navy spa tunic appeared and called another woman in for her facial. Okay. So, she wasn’t—unless it was a different kind of facial…
“Vivian,” a voice called, using the fake name that Allegra had booked me under, and I straightened my spine.
Trust her to give me the name of our favourite prostitute from Pretty Woman.
She thought she was hilarious. I blinked in surprise at the woman beaming at me in that polite but professional way. “Would you please follow me?”
I stood up, swallowing my nerves and pulling the rope on my robe tighter around my waist. I followed her down a winding corridor, with doors splintering off on both sides, some open and some closed.
This all looked so legit. Frowning, I wondered if Allegra had been pranking me with this whole Cesare thing.
“Um, excuse me? I booked to have a massage with Cesare,” I whispered.
She glanced at me over her shoulder, that strained smile still plastered on her face. “Si. That’s right. He’s just finishing up with another client, but he won’t be long. Make yourself comfortable.”
Oh my god. Did she know? She knew. Did she?
She walked away, leaving me standing in front of a door. I glanced at the bamboo seat outside it. Did she mean I should make myself comfortable out here or in there?
Shit.
I sat down and twiddled my thumbs some more. I tried not to think about what the words ‘he’s just finishing up with another client’ meant. A few minutes passed, and I started to panic. Maybe I was meant to wait inside the room instead.
I knocked timidly on the door, but when there was no response, I opened it and stepped inside.
The room was stunning. Red curtains draped from the ceiling in every direction, making it feel like you were inside a tent or…
a womb. God, my brain worked in weird ways.
But it was comforting, sensual, and instantly relaxing.
A single massage bed was placed in the centre with towels ready and one of those doughnut holes to shove your face through.
I moved towards it, awkwardly glancing around at the shelves of scented oils and lotions and the flickering candles.
The Bali playlist was louder in here, blocking out sounds from outside. Handy.
But it wasn’t loud enough to muffle the sudden clatter coming from behind the bamboo partition in the corner of the room. I spun around to see the shadow of a broad figure moving behind it. Excitement and anxiety tangled in my veins, thrumming a wild rhythm beneath my skin.
“Scusa,” I stuttered, hating how unsure I sounded.
My Italian was fluent, but when I was anxious, I always switched to English.
Hopefully, Cesare would understand. “I wasn’t sure if I should come in or not, and I waited outside, but I didn’t want to miss my appointment, so I–um–if you’re not ready for me, I can leave. ”
The man’s large silhouette froze behind the screen. And when I say large, I mean…a perfectly sculpted giant. Even the shadow had muscles. It moved. Then it vanished, giving way to the person.
Holy shit.
I took one look at him and my lungs just…quit on me.
Somehow, he looked bigger than his shadow, standing well over 6 feet of chiselled muscle.
And Christ, there was a lot on display. Bulging biceps, hard pecs, an eight-pack of insane abs, and a deep V, all exposed by the wonderful fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Only those flimsy navy uniform trousers hung low around his waist, leaving little to the imagination when the outline of his impressive dick brushed against them with each step.
My mouth watered. I forced my gaze up to the ink marring his chest and arms. Then I remembered that this incredible body had to be attached to a head.
There’s ‘attractive’, and then there’s whatever species this man was—a rugged, masculine sort of beauty with dark eyes, a sharp jaw, and full lips.
Black hair, not quite curly but more like gentle waves, fell across his forehead in a casual style that screamed effortless, yet I bet it was impeccably styled. It had to be.
Our eyes met, and instant cardiac chaos erupted. I took a step back and bumped into a small table behind me. A little gasp escaped my lips as I stumbled, limbs flailing in all directions.
“Sorry!” I squeaked, backing myself towards the door. The way he looked at me with such intensity made me want to run, but also throw myself at him. I’d never felt so conflicted in my life.
He tilted his head while one side of his lips quirked up into a lopsided, lazy smile.
“You’re here for a massage.”
His husky Italian accent sounded like a seductive drawl as he spoke in perfect English. I nodded, even though he had said it as a statement and not a question. He stepped forward and grabbed a towel from the bed, holding it up.
“Lie down. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
The authority he exuded left no room for argument, and it made my scalp tingle. Damn that voice and its commanding tone. With that much confidence, I bet no one ever denied him anything.
I moved towards the bed when he disappeared around the partition again, giving me some privacy to remove my robe.
I understood why that waiting room was so crowded with eager women wanting the Cesare Special.
With trembling hands, I removed my robe, revealing one of Allegra’s borrowed bikinis, and climbed onto the massage table.
Oh my God, calm the f down, Aria. This was his job.
And I could have a massage and leave—no funny business.
But even the thought of his hands on my skin was spreading heat between my legs.
I lay down, taking a few deep breaths and placing my face in the doughnut hole, wriggling around until I found a comfortable position.
When I heard the padding of his bare feet against the floor, moving towards me, my pulse skyrocketed.
He headed towards the shelves where the oils were and then stopped by the side of the bed. I tried to control my breathing as he carefully rolled the towel I had draped over my back down to my waist.
“Signorina,” he husked, his voice so deep that it sank into my bones. I swallowed and lifted my face out of the hole, feeling slightly lightheaded.
“Mm?”
“Can you remove your necklace? I don’t want to get oil all over it.”
“Oh,” I gasped, surprised he’d be so considerate. No one had ever asked me to remove jewellery for a massage before. I lifted my arms, fiddling awkwardly with the clasp at the back as I tried to balance and arch, pushing my torso against the bed.
“Need some help?”
Heat rushed through me, my heart stumbling over itself the moment his fingers brushed mine.
Sparks ignited in my stomach as I let him take the lead, leaning over me and removing the necklace with a gentleness I would never have expected from someone so…
manly. He placed it on the small table, his thumb nudging the antique sapphire locket as he husked, “Pretty.”
I chewed ?my bottom lip when his dark eyes met mine. Was he saying the locket was pretty or me? Those shots had gone to my head. He was obviously referring to the locket.
“Oh, grazie. It was my mother’s.”
He gave me that lopsided smile again, his dark eyes twinkling with something that made my insides flare.
I couldn’t get over how gorgeous he was.
But something dark and mysterious was lurking beneath the surface that gave him an edge—a warning.
He didn’t fit the masseur image at all. He looked too wild.
Too untamed for a job so serene. But then again, I’d never met a male masseur, so what the hell did I know?
I placed my face back in the hole when he nodded towards it.
Moments later, I felt a tug on the string of my bikini top.
I held my breath as he pulled the lacing out from the bow on my back and did the same to the one around my neck.
After the oil cap clicked open, he worked the slick liquid into his hands.
Breathe, Aria, breathe. This is supposed to relax, not excite.
The moment his massive hands swept across my shoulder blades, I nearly released an embarrassing moan.
I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes, fighting to keep more sounds from escaping.
His hands weren’t soft like I’d expected.
They were slightly rough and calloused, mixed with the silky oil, which only made the experience so much more sensual.
“Are you from England? Here on holiday?” he asked.
His fingers kneaded into my back muscles with undeniable strength; every glide, every move, controlled yet flawless.
His fingers inched down my side as he pushed up towards my shoulder, caressing my side boob, and my mind wandered to unholy places.
My God, would it be so bad to have this man give me a happy ending?
Would I earn my seat in hell? I’d definitely need to repent for my sins.
But surely, some sins are worth repenting?
“Actually, no. I was born in Italy, but moved to England when I was younger because my parents separated. I’ve been living in Rome for a few years now.”
“And what made you move back?”
“My papi still lives here. Unfortunately, my mother passed away, so I moved back here to be close to my father.”
“Sorry to hear that. That must have been a hard transition. But do you like it here?”
“I love it.”