Her eyes close. Her brows soften.
For a moment, she's in that world of satisfaction.
Then her eyes blink open. Find mine.
"Are you going to eat? Or did you invite me here just to watch me?" She traces the stem of her wineglass. "That's kinky. Even for you."
"Even for me?"
She nods.
I take a bite. Let the spicy, tangy sauce overwhelm my taste buds. I haven't had arrabbiata in a long time.
It makes me think of her. And I can't think of her. I couldn't. It fucked with my head.
I chew. Swallow. Sip my wine. "Things change. Like you said."
"Have they?" She tries to keep her voice even, but she doesn't get there. When I don't respond, she continues. "Your tastes. Have they changed?"
Fuck.
I can't answer that.
It's been a long time since I've considered asking a woman to submit.
Right now, sitting across from her, watching her chest rise and fall with her breath, watching curiosity spread over her eyes—
I need it.
It's undeniable.
"You've racked up a reputation," she says. "But that isn't part of it." Her eyes pass over me slowly. Stop on my tie. "None of your friends have mentioned your penchant for rope. Or orders. Or pain."
My cock stirs. Blood rushes south. It's not what I need. I need to stay in control.
"Either you're asking women to sign NDAs, or…" She raises a brow, offering me the floor.
I haven't.
I haven't tried. Not since I broached the idea with Rory. Since she looked at me like I was a monster.
"I haven't asked if they'd enjoy rope. Or orders. Or pain," I say.
Her blush deepens. "And your fiancée?"
"Ex-fiancée."
"Did she share your tastes?"
"What does that matter?"
"I'm curious."
"I'm not asking you to fuck me, Indigo."
"We're going to get married and never have sex?" She picks up her wineglass. Takes a long sip. "Really?"
"I'm not paying for sex."
"You don't want to fuck me?" she asks.
"Of course, I want to fuck you. But that's not why I'm here."
"You're here because of your reputation," she says. "Really? That's all of it?"
"Enough of it."
She stares back at me, not quite believing me.
It's not the whole story, but it's all I can give her right now. "You're here, Indigo."
"I am."
"So give me a number. Tell me what it will take. What, exactly, do you want?"
Chapter Seven
Indigo
What will it take?
What, exactly, do you want?
It's not something I consider often.
Immediate needs take up too much space.
Rent, food, safety.
Sometimes, I have time for tiny pleasures. A warm drink on a cold day. A night dancing after a stressful shift. Watching Sienna score a winning goal after a week of losing.
That's what I want. I want my sister to be okay.
But Ty is already covering her tuition. What else could I possibly desire?
What do I daydream about during subway rides and slow shifts at work?
A week in the Caribbean. A trip to Vegas for Sienna's twenty-first. A rich, handsome customer who wants to erase all my problems.
Ty.
Whispering in my ears, spilling his secrets, promising me forever.
This is it.
He's right here. Not only promising me forever but offering cash for it.
A dream come true.
Except for the tiny matter of it being bullshit.
"What are you asking, exactly?" I fold my hands in my lap. Try to hold his gaze.
His dark eyes are as intense as ever.
He still reads me like a book.
Knows exactly which button to press to make me laugh, groan, scream.
Knows he has the power to destroy me.
"I'd like to get married this summer," he says. "But I'm negotiable. As long as we announce our engagement right away."
"It's May."
"I'm aware."
"You were photographed with another woman two months ago."
"I'm aware of that as well."
"People will think this is a shotgun wedding," I say.
"Not if we sell it." His eyes bore into mine. "They'll believe we reconnected."
So that's why he asked me. Because we have a history. One that suits his story.
It makes sense, logically, but it's missing something. Some other detail I can't see.
I try to find the truth in his expression, but I can't. "We'll sell it?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Photographs. Dinners. Parties."
"You throw parties?" I ask.
He chuckles. "Not usually."
"But your birthday is next month."
His eyes light up. He's surprised I remembered. Or excited.
I'm not sure.
"And this is for your reputation?" I ask.
He nods.
"So can we tell friends and family the truth?"
"No." The delight drains from his expression. "They need to believe it."
"Even your brother?"
His eyes flit to the table. "He wouldn't approve."
I don't know a lot about Ty's brother, but I know he's obsessed with honesty.
Usually, Ty is the same. This isn't like him.
But maybe I don't know him. It has been three years.
"Your friends?" I ask.
"Everyone," he says.
Okay. Everyone. I guess that's clear enough, but-- "I'm not sure I can lie to Sienna. I don't know if I can agree to that."
"It's a deal breaker?"
"If it is?"
"Will you try?"
I swallow hard. I don't like the idea of deceiving my sister. But she wouldn't approve either. And I don't want to put this on her.
I don't want her to feel responsible.
This is my choice.
Even if it's for her, it's my choice.
"I can try," I say. "But I can't promise results."
He nods. "Fair."
Maybe. "And these photographers, dinners, parties—how will we convince people it's real?"
"We'll look madly in love."
"What if I can't sell it?"
"You can."
And what if the line blurs? If I fall in love with him? "But really, we're…"
"Are you still claiming you won't fuck me?"
My chest warms. "Not for money."
"Friends. Maybe friends who fuck. If that's what you decide."
Fuck. Yes. Now. Please. "Only friends?”
"I don't want to hurt you, Indie. I care about you. I'll always care about you. But love is done with me."
"You want me to convince the world I'm in love with you, even though you'll never love me, but you don't want to hurt me. Really?"
"Yes." He picks up his glass. Takes a long sip of wine. Considers something. "Maybe it's not possible, but it's what I'm asking."