"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. I've seen men in your state before. It never ends well." He pauses, studying me. "When's the last time you got laid?"
Not since I saw the one I want in a green dress that made me want to take it off with my teeth.That’s not an answer I can give, though. I just wince, because the thought of touching another woman makes my skin crawl. It would feel like a betrayal, even though I have no right to feel that way.
Rico chuckles. "That's what I thought. Regular bar pussy getting boring?” He smirks. “I’ve got just the thing for that.”He leans in closer, lowering his voice. "I know a place. Very exclusive, very discreet. Might be exactly what you need."
I glare at him over my beer. "I'm not interested in a brothel."
"It's not a brothel. It's..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "It's a club. Private membership. Complete discretion guaranteed. The barrier to entry is high enough that you don't have to worry about anyone talking. The women aren’t paid; they have memberships, too. Women looking for privacy and men they can enjoy without it getting out that they’re sleeping around or that they’re into weird kinks or whatever. It’s a place for rich, beautiful people to have fun."
He pulls out his phone and shows me a sleek black website with minimal information. I stare at the screen. "How exclusive are we talking?"
"Black card membership only. The vetting process is more intense than anything you've ever seen. They run background checks that would make the FBI jealous. They verify your income, your connections, your ability to keep your mouth shut. The financial barrier alone keeps out ninety-nine percent of people."
"And the other one percent?"
"People like us. Rich, well-connected guys who want to have fun with no strings attached and like beautiful women.” He pockets his phone. "It's expensive as hell. But if you can get in, it's worth it."
I should say no. I should tell him I'm fine, that I don't need this, that I can handle my shit on my own. But today proved that none of that is true. And if I don't do something soon, I'm going to do something I can't take back.
Rico grins. "I can put in a word for you if you want. Get you an introduction."
I think about Giulia and the wedding that's coming. I think about Romeo's warning. I think about the violent fantasies thatwon't stop, about the way I broke Carlo's nose and felt nothing but satisfaction. I feel like I'm drowning, and this might be the only lifeline I can see.
"Set it up," I hear myself say.
Rico grins. “Hell yeah, brother. You’re going to have the time of your fucking life.”
—
The vetting processis exactly as intense as Rico said. My income, my connections, my associations—all of it is pored over. But a week later, after I’ve signed the documents and paid an eye-watering fee, a black card arrives by courier that afternoon. It’s sleek and heavy, with nothing but a phone number embossed on the back. No name, no logo, nothing that could identify what it's for. I hold it in my hand and stare at it for a long time.
This is insane. I've never needed something like this before. I've always been in control of my desires, always kept things simple and clean. Sex was just another physical need, easily satisfied and quickly forgotten.
But I'm desperate to get Giulia out of my system and feel something other than this constant want that's eating me alive from the inside out. I need to prove to myself that I can want someone else, that this obsession isn't permanent.
I tell myself I'll find someone who looks nothing like her. Someone blonde instead of dark-haired, thin and lanky instead of tall and curvy. Someone who will help me reset and remind me that there are other women in the world.
This is just about sex, getting a release I desperately need so that I can get my life back to something resembling normal. And at the very least, I can pretend for a few hours, so I can fucking think straight again long enough to remind myself whyimploding my life for a woman I can never have is the most insanely stupid thing I could do.
It’s the only real option I have left.
5
GIULIA
My father calls me into his office the next morning, and I know before he speaks that my time has run out.
He's sitting behind his desk, where he's made every important decision about my life for the past nineteen years. Where he decided I'd go to boarding school, where he chose which subjects I'd study, which languages I'd learn, which version of myself I'd be allowed to become.
He's now deciding who I'll marry.
"Sit down, Giulia."
I sit, my hands folded in my lap like the good daughter I've been trained to be.
"I've given this considerable thought," he begins, and my heart starts to pound. "Alessandro, Marco, and Enzo have all made their interest clear. They're all acceptable matches—good families, strong connections, the kind of alliances that will benefit us for generations. I'll be making my final decision within the month. I want to give you time to prepare yourself, to understand what's expected. The engagement will be announced shortly after, and we'll plan for a wedding within six months."
