I get dressed, slip into my ‘I want sex’ outfit, and admire myself in the mirror. I opted for a more daring smoky makeup look with red lipstick to match. My hair, which has been behaving, now flows down my back in glossy waves. Yay. Beneath it all, I’ve smothered my skin in scented oils, followed by rich, thick lotions, and finished off with my favorite perfume, which I applied everywhere, including down my thighs—the area that will be most active if everything works out.
I slip into a pair of boots, then cover my outfit with a thick wool coat with thermal lining to keep warm. With my X-rated Christmas stocking in a nondescript bag, along with my heelsand Santa hat, I discreetly make my way downstairs and use the back entrance to reach my waiting cab.
My family thinks I retired early to get a good night’s sleep for my Christmas engagement party tomorrow; meanwhile, I’m sneaking out of the house to give my downstairs some festive cheer.
I didn’t really think about the logistics of it all. I was too busy getting my outfit ready and perfuming myself to the heavens.
I glance up at the magnificent building, at the top of which is the penthouse where Tony lives.
He’s originally from Milan and only in the States for six months. I have no idea what he does for a living, and I don’t care. I’m only interested in what he keeps in his pants, and when he sees me without mine, he’s going to be interested in me too.
Besides, Tony may not have tried to kiss me or escalate our date from coffee to dinner to bed, but we have great chemistry. We enjoy the same movies. I laugh at everything he says, he laughs at everything I say. We bumped our heads together reaching for my fallen napkin once, and I saw stars. Did I mention ours is a textbook romance? He’s also waiting for me to make the first bold move, gentleman that he is.
I’m going to get nowhere if I can’t find a way into the building, regardless of having the code to his actual apartment to surprise him when he gets back from dinner.
I scope out the building, and then bam, a serendipitous opportunity falls into my lap.
I enter through the revolving doors as if I know where I’m going and step right into the drama unfolding in the lobby, keeping the doorman, security, and concierge occupied.
Some lucky woman is receiving a massive delivery of red roses, along with hundreds of gift boxes, an entire gold Christmas tree, and a parrot.
Oh, wait. That’s her husband trying to make amends for whatever he’s done, forcing gifts on his wife, and she’s having none of it.
She’s instructing the delivery guy, the doorman, security, and the concierge to take it all away, while the husband insists they leave everything right there. I don’t know who’s going to win.
Perfect cover. While everyone is engaged in marital chaos, I sneak into the elevator without being seen. If this wasn’t meant to be, nothing is.
It takes no time at all to reach the top, and before I can even take a breath, I’m standing in front of the penthouse door.
Fully confident, I enter the code, and voila, I’m in.
I’m used to luxury, but this is insane—the clear difference between being a millionaire and a billionaire.
But then a little anxiousness sets in. Am I really doing this? It’s too late to ask that question, Williams, I mutter to myself.
I take off my coat and drape it over a sofa, then remove my boots and tuck them behind the sofa. I slip into my naughty Santa heels, straighten my skirt, and take a deep breath. I’ve got this.
Now where to position myself? Oh, right there by the Christmas tree, because I’m his gift. Perfect.
I seat myself in a cute vintage velvet chair and cross my legs. No, that’s not inviting at all, so I part my legs. Good.
Now I just wait. But my nerves grow heavier by the second, and I envision myself running out the door and never looking back. Ohgod. How will I live it down if Tony rejects me? What if he really isn’t into me that way?
Panic fills my bones and makes me shift uncomfortably in the chair. I can’t do this… No, I can, if I cover my eyes with a blindfold. Yes, that will solve everything.
I reach for the red silk band around my skirt. Perfect. I cover my eyes with shaky hands and fasten it at the back of my head. There. Now that I can’t see anything, I feel infinitely braver.
Chapter Four
Enzo
Cazzo.
This is all we need. The matriarch forcing us into marriage has been an ongoing issue this entire year, but now she’s escalated to actively threatening us. Fuck.
“How much time do we have?” I ask the man whose face fills my phone screen: our uncle and legal adviser, Roberto Costa.
“There’s no stopping her now, boys. If you don’t present a future bride of your own at the Christmas Eve dinner tonight, she’ll choose one for you, and that will be that. You’ll be married by New Year’s, or she’ll veto you three taking over from the Don. Non-negotiable.”
