2. Isabella
“Iz!” Dominic’s voice made me turn before the male model could answer. “JesusChrist, do you own a bra?” Dom’s hands flailed in the air as he tried to physically block my appearance from his vision. “Goddammit, Iz, your nipples are out!”
Iheard a chuckle come from the male model, but I ignored him. Currently, I took zero pity on the scars I was undoubtedly inflicting on my baby brother. “They’re just nipples! We all have them!”
Icrossed my arms over my chest, feeling the wet fabric press into my arms. I couldn’t wait to take this stupid dress off. “In case you couldn’t tell, it’s a fucking monsoon outside, and for some reason, you keep it set to Arctic tundra temperatures in here.” Aware of the male model’s gaze, I asked Dom, “Do you have a sweatshirt or something? A parka? Even a Snuggie would do.”
“No, Iz, I don’t keep my winter gear here, just”—Dom started to walk away, his eyes to the ceiling, avoiding any glimpse of me—“cover yourself or something. I can give you a tour of the place real quick before I leave.”
“Oh my god, thank you so much for your overwhelming hospitality. How can I ever thank you for your generosity?” I rolled my eyes and picked up my tote. MaybeI could carry it across the front of my chest and protect my baby brother from the offense of my nipples. But the leather was soaked, and I’d have to spend an hour conditioning the material of my Celine tote bag to try to salvage it from ruin.
“Here, this might help.” The male model spoke, and his voice was deeper than I expected it to be. He tossed me a hoodie from behind the bar, and it was still warm, like he’d just taken it off. “Not that I’m complaining,” his eyes shifted down my chest, and my eyebrows shot up at his brazen attempt to check me out, “but it is cold in here, sorry.”
Andthis is typically when I would fall in love.
Anotherversion of me, a past version of me, would take a whiff of this man’s hoodie and be convinced the pheromones it emitted were that of my soulmate. Another version of myself would smile a lazy grin at this man, lock eyes with him, and allow the film reel of our future to roll through my mind. Izzy of the Past would replay this moment repeatedly, analyzing how his full lips parted when I leaned over the barstool to pick up the hoodie. I would take note of the way his brown eyes didn’t leave mine as I stuffed my arms into the sleeve and tugged the thick fabric over my head.
Butthat version of myself had been dropped off somewhere between Spain and the Netherlands. That version of myself hadn’t made it through customs.
Instead, I picked up the hoodie, snuck a quiet sniff, and quickly said, “Thanks.”
“Oh,” Dom had turned back to me, “I guess before we move on, Iz, this is Max, your new boss. Max, my sister, Isabella.”
Ipulled the oversized hoodie further down, making a half-baked attempt to shield myself. Not only did it give me an extra moment to channel my inner Zen, but it also allowed for one more deep inhale of his intoxicating firewood scent. AsI peered out, it hit me. Max was the living embodiment of every “Too-Hot-to-Be-Real” meme I’d ever shared. Naturally, my new boss had to be a model-esque heartthrob with probable delusions of Hollywood grandeur. I’d known the staff would be young, but no one warned me about navigating a sea of under-thirties looking like they’d leaped out of a cologne ad.
Iset my face in a small smile as I said, “Hey, hi, hello.” Every laugh line I’d recently noticed forming around my eyes waved hello too.
Maxhad picked up a wineglass and was buffing it with one of those lint-free towels whose texture gave me the heebie-jeebies. But his eyes were locked on mine, and the corner of his mouth was turned up slightly like he could read my inner panic. Because, of course, guys who look like him know how they make women feel, with his dark hair swept back and smoothed down, and his stupid black t-shirt that was too tight across his arms.
Ipulled my eyes away and turned to my brother. “Are you going to show me around this brothel or what?”
“Iz,” Dominic said as he rolled his eyes and started walking, “it’s not a brothel. Whatever, come on.”
Dominicwalked me around the entire bottom floor of the PrismSociety and pointed out various areas where members could sit and enjoy drinks so I could get an idea of my section. There were cozy nooks scattered throughout the entire first floor. Pairs of small cream, fuzzy-looking chairs swiveled in toward each other in the main lobby, curved high-back velvet booths lined two walls, and of course, high-top chairs ran the length of the entire bar.
Iheard the pride in his tone as he walked me through the spaces, and even though I felt like a soggy newspaper thrown out on someone’s lawn, I couldn’t help the big grin that spread across my face. My brother had always been the one to slide into a situation, totally unequipped, only to massively succeed. Dom was the kind of person who would quietly watch how others went about their lives. He seemed to take notes on what to do better so that by the time it was his turn, he was immediately the best at it.
Thistrait annoyed me. It was something, as the oldest, I didn’t get the luxury of doing. I was the kind of person to dive in headfirst and figure it out on the way down. While that personality worked in my early twenties, it was time for me to get some clarity. I craved the sureness Dominic had about where his life was heading. It definitely didn’t seem like he tossed and turned every night, pondering all the missed opportunities and what-ifs.
Ibrowsed the second floor with Dominic, my gaze darting curiously around. This was the PrismSociety’s inner sanctum, where members sought full-service sexual exploration.
“Jules is in charge up here,” Dominic pointed out, indicating the bubbly woman with bright blue hair seated at the reception. A sign reading “reservations only” was prominently displayed.
Igreeted Jules with a polite nod, noting the oxblood-painted doors behind her. I remembered Dominic mentioning them—the private rooms with ever-changing access codes. I could only imagine the activities they shielded.
Growingup, discussions about sexuality were commonplace in our household. However, hearing about Dominic’s venture with Liam differed from actually being here, experiencing the ambiance and the hidden promises it held. We headed up to the third and final floor.
Onthe top level were the private offices for Dominic and Liam and a wide-open, skylight-lit room. Well, it would be on a day that didn’t look like Dementors were about to fly down through the rain-pelted sky. I recalled Dominic mentioning a recent workshop—something about SensualFoodPlay. I shuddered at the thought of misused sushi rolls.
Backon the main floor, Dominic showed me to my designated office, where I would be sharing a space with Max, Maureen, and Jules. I noted Maureen’s age and wondered about her story. MaybeI could strike up a friendship with Maureen, the sixty-something my brother hired for his front desk support. Apparently, she had been looking for something to spice up her life in retirement. I wonder what she thought about all the activities that took place behind my spot in front of the heavy velvet curtains.
“She’s full of surprises,” Dominic remarked, seemingly reading my mind.
Itstruck me that my own presence might be out of place here. Yet, what were my alternatives? My resume was certainly . . . unconventional.
Shakingmy head, I was pulled back to a memory of Nikos. Our whirlwind romance centered around travel and adventure. But he’d chosen a different path, one that didn’t include me. The breakup had been unexpected and had hit me like a ton of bricks. There were things Nikos had said about me during his long speech as to why we wouldn’t work that still sat, sour, in my belly.
Dominic’svoice interrupted my reflections. “You okay, Iz?”
Imet his gaze, forcing a smile. “Just taking it all in. It’s . . . different.” My voice carried a touch of loneliness, betraying my feelings of being adrift amidst so many choices.
Abrief silence settled between us, the weight of unsaid things hovering. The ambient sounds of the PrismSociety filled the void—soft music coming from the speakers, distant chatter of other staff members showing up, and the clink of glasses as Max stocked the bar.
“All right, Iz,” Dom broke the quiet, his voice more business-like now, “I got you set up in the system, so you should be able to clock in.” As he slid on his coat, he added, “Be back here tomorrow, but closer to two so Max can walk you through everything.”
“Where are you going?” I blurted, feeling a pang of abandonment. The idea of navigating the unfamiliar space without Dominic was daunting, and I wasn’t ready to leave the comfort of my current surroundings.
“I have dinner plans,” he said, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal.
“Dinner? ButI just got here. I thought we could catch up or something.” My voice came out more desperate than I had intended. How desperate would I really be if I practically had to beg my little brother to hang out with me? It had always been like this with them. Even as his sister, I never got past the surface level of Dom. Either because he didn’t trust to share it with anyone, or he didn’t trust to share it with me.
“Sorry, Iz, I’ll see you tomorrow, though.” Dominic turned, lifted his arm in a wave, parted the heavy velvet curtains, and let them sway shut behind him.
“Asshole,” I said under my breath, but it still brought out a chuckle from behind me.
Iturned on my heel to face Max. AllI wanted at this point was to get out of this damp dress, out of my water-logged heels, and into the warmth of sweats and a bed with a glass of red wine. ButI had none of those things. Well, my sweats were buried in some suitcase, waiting to be unearthed. The bed was one of my parents’ guestrooms, but the wine could be plucked from my parents’ cellar. One out of three wasn’t bad.
“You look like you could use a drink.” Max sat an empty wineglass he’d buffed on the marble bar top.
“DoI look that haggard?” I hoped he didn’t answer honestly.
“I don’t think you could look haggard if you tried. Just . . . maybe lonely.” WhenI looked up at him, his eyes were soft, not condescending.
“I think I’m still jet-lagged,” I said as I walked over to the bar, pulled out a stool, and slid in.
“If this is what you look like jet-lagged, I can’t wait to see you refreshed.” Max grinned as he pulled a bottle off the rack and worked the cork. My eyes followed how his arm flexed as he held the bottle in one hand and twisted with the other.
“Is this how you get women to order more drinks?” I watched as a deep red wine filled the glass in front of me.
Heshrugged. “The club has a two-drink limit.” He placed a stopper in the bottle and said, “Besides, the women who come to this bar aren’t here for my attention, so I don’t need to flirt with them.”
“But you are flirting? Right now?” I reached for the wineglass and slid it across the counter. I swirled the inky liquid and took a deep inhale. Tobacco, chocolate, and spices. This was a good red.
“IfI were flirting right now,” his eyes scanned down the front of me as he said, “I’d tell you I can’t wait to get my sweatshirt back so I can see what rubbing against your chest smells like and that I’m not going to look away as you slip it off because I know it’s still cold in here.”
Myeyes flew open wide, and my face warmed from the first sip of the red wine and Max’s comments. My tongue reached out to taste the wine on my lips, and Max’s eyes followed the movement. Jesus.
“Is this how you talk to all of your employees?” I asked.
Hegrinned. “Just when I feel like they’re stuck in their head too much.”
Istared into my wineglass as I twirled the stem between my fingers. Apparently, my identity crisis had been clearly playing out all over my face.
“So,” I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, “how does someone like you end up working at a place like this?”
“Now that sounds like a cheesy pickup line.” Max had gone back to polishing glasses, and I wondered how someone’s hands could be so big.
Ichuckled. “I’m serious. This place”—I looked around the lounge—“is unique. Why here?”
“Well, I’m working through my sommelier certification and needed a bit of a less chaotic place to work so I could focus on studying but still make good money. I’ve known your brother for years, so when I heard about this place, I reached out.”
“Why haven’t we met before?” I asked, curious about the fact that he seemed to be so close to my brother.
“I think you were somewhere between Portugal and Rome when I was graduating high school with Dom, so we wouldn’t have really run into each other,” Max said.
Igroaned into my glass. “Andthat makes me feel ancient.” I rolled my eyes and tipped my glass to drain the last sip.
“Sorry, but seven years older does not put you into the ancient category,” Max said as he headed toward the end of the bar. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can store your stuff.”
Behindthe bar was a hidden door painted the same deep emerald as the lounge, with molding to match. A small seam gave it away when Max pushed against it. Through the door was a small hallway with a set of lockers and three doors.
Maxpointed to each locker as he said, “You can snag one of those lockers to keep your things in. This room is where we keep the extra towels and bar stuff. That’s the bathroom, and here’s the office.”
Heled me to the last door, the office, and bumped open the door with his hip. Inside was tiny. A desk along the right side held a small computer and a shit ton of paperwork. They’d somehow fit a small couch, a tall filing cabinet, and a lamp on the opposite wall. Hanging on the walls were various posters and signs for compliance and Max’s sommelier certificates. My eyes skirted over them. He’d made it to CertifiedSommelier, and, by the looks of the textbooks on the desk, he was actively studying for his Advanced exam.
Iknew, from chatting up with plenty of sommeliers while I was in France, that making it to the Advanced and then Master level was hard. Max might be the youngest one to do it.
“SinceDominic got you in the system earlier, you should just be able to clock in yourself tomorrow. I’ll pull it up and show you how it works.” Max sat down in the soft leather chair and opened up a few screens on the computer to show me the basics. I resisted the distraction of how good his arms looked in his black t-shirt and how I could smell his shampoo being this close to him from my spot on the edge of the desk.
“Most of your training, really,” Max said as he swiveled in his chair, “comes down to being comfortable with two things.”
Ileaned back a bit, wanting to give Max some space, and looked down at Max as he held a finger up.
“One, the drink menu.” Max continued to hold up a finger as he talked. “I’ll send you home with packets about the wine and our cocktails so you can familiarize yourself with everything. Our members have big wallets, so sometimes they like to be fancy with what they order. But remember, if anyone has a reservation upstairs, they have an automatic two-drink limit.”
“Two-drink limit. Got it.” I hoped the limit wouldn’t impact my tips, but I was crossing my fingers for this rich clientele to tip generously no matter what.
It’snot like I necessarily needed the money, I still had my inheritance, but I had been getting this strong urge to make something on my own. I didn’t know what yet, but the fact that I’d been handed everything in my life wasn’t good for my confidence. I was ready to prove I could make something for myself, even if I had no clue what that was supposed to be yet.
Maxput up a second finger. “And two, the open sexuality of this club.” I stopped my daydreaming, and my eyes flicked over to Max. He grinned lazily. “If you were that uncomfortable seeing me without my shirt on out there, just wait until you walk through your section and notice one of our members getting finger banged under the table.”
Maxnodded in silent confirmation to my raised eyebrows and wide eyes. “Or when you go to make your rounds to check the upstairs lounge area and see some guy getting his dick sucked.”
Mycheeks warmed. “I thought all that stuff happened once people made a reservation inside the private rooms? Those things just go on out there?” I asked.
“The general agreed-upon rule is there is no actual intercourse out in the semi-private spaces, but our members are welcome to warm up however they like, wherever they like.” Max shrugged like he was used to it by now.
“And the lounge upstairs is in my section too? I thought I would just stick to the main lounge.” I wasn’t a prude by any means. I’d skinny-dipped with strangers in the BalticSea. I’d even given a blow job in a train bathroom on my way to Milan. But this was work. Would it feel different to be constantly exposed to such proclivity?
“You won’t serve in the traditional sense upstairs.” Max dug through the pile of paperwork.
“There are semi-private lounges that members can use while they wait for their private room to be ready. We like to stock each lounge with sparkling water, glasses, and light snacks.” He handed me a binder full of sheets from the menu with long descriptions. Apparently, this was my homework. “So it’ll be up to you to make sure the lounges are turned over. Jules will give you the reservation sheet at the start of your shift each night so you know when you’ll need to be up there.”
“Okay, so memorize the drink menu, and don’t freak out about the foreplay, got it.” I held the binder to my chest.
Maxsmiled up at me. “See?” He tapped my knee with his knuckles. “You’re gonna do great.”