Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Not a bad way to get paid.” She had a scotch—neat. Her nails were painted fiery red, which was an interesting color against her fair skin.
“I actually don’t get paid for that. That’s all volunteer.”
“Then how do you plan to pay your bills…?” She cocked an eyebrow as she took a drink. “You got a sugar daddy?”
“No. I work the concierge gig in the evenings.”
“Oh…not nearly as exciting as having a sugar daddy.”
I chuckled. “No. Not even close.”
“What’s it like so far? Do you help a lot of hot businessmen taking their mistresses to their rooms?”
“No. I’m sure they would be more secretive than to stop by for a chat. They don’t care about eating the best pasta or visiting the Barsetti winery for wine tasting. All they care about is fucking and getting room service.”
“Ooh…” A dreamy look came into her eyes. “Sex and room service. That sounds like a dream.”
“It does.” It’d been a while since I’d had a good man between the sheets. My lovers were casual, nothing serious because I hadn’t intended to stay in Milan for more than a couple of years. Being a student was a good way to meet new people, especially men my own age. But I’d never had a deeply passionate relationship, the kind where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other for more than a few minutes. Maybe that was love. Or maybe that was combustive lust.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Me?” I asked incredulously. “No. Not while I’m still living with my mother.”
“How’s that going?”
“It’s not terrible. I mean, we have so much space, it’s not like we’re fighting to use the bathroom or the washing machine. It’s just weird to live under her roof again, like I’m a child or a failed adult. I miss bringing men home. I can’t do that anymore.”
“I’m sure you could sneak one in.”
“Eh…don’t really want to do that.” That would make me seem dishonest and childish.
“Couldn’t you just stay at his place?”
“I suppose. But then my mother will wonder where I’ve been all night.”
“No, she’ll know where you’ve been all night,” she said with a smile. “You’re a grown woman, so I doubt she’ll give you a hard time about it.”
“Yeah…” My mother was a very blunt person, and she even encouraged me to enjoy my youth as much as possible, be with all the men who would never be my husband, get it out of my system before I settled down with a suitable partner. “She probably wouldn’t care. Probably wouldn’t ask me any questions. But I guess it’s just awkward giving her an idea of what I’m doing in my private life.”
“I always thought the two of you were close.” Esme was oblivious to all the attention she was capturing. Lots of men behind her wouldn’t stop staring at her, probably trying to decide if they should buy her a drink or just walk up and talk to her.
“We are. I love my mother. We just don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. When my father passed away, we became a lot closer.” My parents were never in love, but it was obvious my mother’s sadness at his passing was genuine. She’d lost a friend…a partner.
One of the men who had his eyes on Esme finally made his move. Tall and handsome, he had a nice smile and shoulders built for strength. He appeared on her right side, his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t seem overly eager. “Hello, I’m Kyle.” He extended his hand to shake hers.
When her eyes widened in approval, I knew she liked what she saw. “Esme.” She shook his hand. “This is my friend Sofia.”
He shook my hand. “Lovely to meet you both.”
They became engaged in conversation, making each other laugh and exchanging subtle cues of affection.
I silently excused myself so my friend could get laid. I brought my drink to another table and took a seat. Sitting alone anywhere besides the bar was awkward, but I wasn’t ready to end my evening just yet. I wanted to enjoy this last bit of vodka cranberry before I walked home.
My eyes wandered around the bar, people-watching. There were a few packs of women at the bar, gathered close together and chatting over a bottle of wine. A lot of the men were looking in their direction.
But some were looking at me.
I didn’t see anyone I was interested in, so I kept my gaze averted.
My eyes scanned to the left, and they stopped immediately when I noticed a man I recognized. Sitting in a dark booth facing the rest of the bar, he wore a white shirt with black slacks and dress shoes. With his jacket missing, the hardness of his body was unmistakable. His pecs were easy to visualize, and he had such strong shoulders that they stretched the fabric of his shirt and made it tight. His tanned skin contrasted against the white fabric of his shirt, making him look worshiped by the sun. His head was turned slightly toward the woman beside him, a brunette who squeezed his thigh under the table and whispered into his ear.