Page 13 of The Plus One Pact

Sasha, my best friend and business partner, gets a lot out of telling men what she's going to do with their money. My clients never care.

They do like some flavor though. The image of the boy in Mazatlan or Rome. My parents' truth.

Close enough to mine.

Besides, they're not paying for honesty. They're paying for fake honesty. That's what they want from me.

An image.

I deliver it with a wink and a hard-on.

"I should get ready. I'm meeting my daughter for breakfast." My client smiles, shy, content, hinting it's time for me to leave.

I don't need her to ask twice. I know the routine. "Will you tell her you came three times last night?" It's more than I usually tease her. I'm in a playful mood today.

After all, she's spent her entire life craving uninhibited sex where her emotional and physical needs come first. She must want to share her good fortune with someone.

I know, I know—who is this Romeo asshole? The world's biggest egomaniac?

But it's not that I'm the greatest lover of all time. These are skills. I learned them the hard way.

Her blush deepens. She shakes her head. "She'd ask questions." She slips into her red silk robe. The one I bought her for her birthday. The color of passion. Something to make her feel sexy when I'm not here.

A full-service replacement for her late husband.

And all on her terms.

A great deal for anyone who can afford it, really.

"I hate to rush you, Romeo, but she's coming here…" Her eyes travel down my body then find mine. She shifts, from cloudy affection to reality. "Your envelope is downstairs. Same time next month?"

"Of course, mio bellisimo." I blow her a kiss, dress, head downstairs. To the flashy red sportscar I bought for myself, after I first hit a quarter million.

It was an indulgence, when I had a perfectly good sedan and a hefty condo payment, but, hey, that is the Italian way.

Pleasure first.

It's a beautiful car. Fast, sleek, fun. Sexy.

Clients love to see me arrive in it.

If only it was a Ferrari. That would really sell the image—

I speed up at a green light. Enjoy the five minutes on the freeway. That's the beautiful thing about Orange County. Once you leave the coast itself, the planned communities are filled with wide, open streets with high speed limits.

Zero to fifty, again and again.

The ten-minute drive to my condo passes too quickly. But I can't enjoy the bliss of a job well done, because there's no peace waiting for me at home.

There's something far worse.

My brother Daniel.

Chapter Four

Romeo

Daniel is at my kitchen counter, sipping espresso from a tiny white cup, the picture of poise and confidence. Or he would be, if he wasn't so stiff and awkward.