The Proposition

ALEJANDRA

I send the message and immediately lock my phone. I sink back into my pillow, not anticipating a quick reply. But then my phone lights up, casting a glow in my dark room.

I pick it up and unlock the screen.

Oh, good Lord.

If this is the standard in Italy, I should have relocated years ago. I drift off to sleep, dreaming of dark eyes, sun-kissed skin, and thick accents…

***

Friday arrives quicker than I thought. It feels like I blink and the week is over.

I spend the day nervously waiting for Domenico’s call. It’s ridiculous, really, since I could just call him.

He finally calls at 2 p.m., just as I’m tidying up after lunch. I glance at my phone, buzzing on the kitchen counter.

I swipe to answer and press the phone to my ear.

Here goes.

“Gattina, how are you?” Domenico’s voice is practically a purr.

I swallow hard, struggling to find my voice.

“Hello,” I manage to say, quickly clearing my throat. “I’m good, thank you. And you?”

He chuckles. “Better, now that I’ve heard your voice. Tell me, dolcezza, do you have an answer for me?”

My heart pounds in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins just from being on the phone with him.

It’s ironic that his voice triggers my fight-or-flight response, yet he wants me to trust him enough to spend a week at his place.

“Yes,” I whisper, too shy to speak any louder.

I hear Domenico sharply inhale on the other end. “You’re agreeing to my proposition?” His voice is filled with surprise and excitement.

Did he think I would back out?

“Yes,” I say, my voice stronger this time. “I am.”

He chuckles. “Oh, gattina, the things I’m going to do to you. Be ready at five o’clock. Wear whatever you want. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Okay,” I mumble.

He hangs up and I stand there, frozen, staring at my phone.

What on earth did I just agree to?

After I snap out of my shock, I take a shower. I shave and scrub my body, as if trying to cleanse myself before committing the sins I’m likely to this week.

I stand in front of my wardrobe, applying moisturizer from head to toe, trying to decide what to wear.

The weather is nice, and Domenico told me to be comfortable. Pants are a safer choice than a dress or a skirt.

I have a feeling Domenico has wandering hands.

I slip into a pair of flattering jeans and a simple top that accentuates my chest.

I pull out my suitcase from under the bed and place it on the comforter.

Now comes the next challenge: deciding what to pack.

Of course, I include a ton of underwear. I select all my best pieces, the lace and silk sets that Hanna has been gifting me each birthday that I’ve never worn.

I pack a lot of comfy clothes and some bikinis. I also include some dressier outfits, my nice dresses, and cute tops. And then about twelve pairs of shoes for every occasion.

I have to sit on my suitcase to get it to close.

Next, I sit down at my vanity to do my makeup.

Why am I doing this?

Why do I want to look good for this guy?

“Because you haven’t had sex in too fucking long,” I answer my silent question out loud.

Think of this as a sexual reawakening. It’s one person helping out another.

Plus, it’s a great investment for my restaurants and will help me open the others to create a chain.

Two million isn’t the kind of money I can turn down.

At worst, he’ll turn out to be a crazed sex pervert and I’ll high-tail it out of there.

At best, I get a week of orgasms with a hot man and a tidy payment at the end.

Oh, yes, I’m definitely doing this. It’ll be a story to tell the grandkids one day.

The knock on my apartment door comes at exactly five. I still jump, not ready for it.

I open it up and find Domenico Lencioni and two of his men, standing in my doorway.

“Alejandra.” His tongue flicks as he pronounces my name with his heavy accent. “You look beautiful, gattina.”

“Thank you.” I lick my lips and take a step back. “Do you want to come in?”

Domenico smirks and nods.

He signals to the two bodyguards, and they stay outside while he steps in and closes the door behind him.

“Will you give me a quick tour, please?” he asks politely.

Feeling self-conscious, I show him around my apartment.

It’s times like these that I’m grateful for my neat freak tendencies. Unexpected guests are my specialty. My space is always immaculate.

I give him a tour, pointing out each room.

He spots my bulging suitcase on my bed and lifts it off for me.

“I assume this is to take with you?” he asks, holding the suitcase as though it were weightless.

Great.

He’s a muscular strongman, too.

“Yes,” I respond, slightly embarrassed. “Please.”

“No problem.” He carries the suitcase to the hallway.

“You have a lovely home, gattina. I can’t wait to show you mine.”

He opens the front door and one of the bodyguards immediately takes the suitcase from him.

I follow him out and lock up my door.

I put my keys in my handbag, sling the bag over my shoulder, and turn to face him.

Domenico gives me a smile, a dangerous smile, that promises panty-ripping and toe-curling orgasms.

He holds out his hand for me to take. His hand is rough, tanned, and palm upturned.

“Are you ready, gattina?”

No!

I am most certainly not~ ready.~

But I nod like a bobblehead and slip my hand into his.

The Mafia don leads me down to his car, where my suitcase has already been put in the back.

It’s a big, black SUV that looks like it could survive a collision with a tank.

There’s another one behind it, with another two bodyguards in it.

How much protection does this guy need?

Domenico courteously opens the door for me, assisting me into the car.

His hand lightly touches my lower back as I settle in, and that simple contact sends my heart into a flutter.

He then moves around to the other side and gets in. I fasten my seatbelt and let my hands explore the smooth leather of the seat. The driver starts the car and we’re on our way.

As we pull away, I watch my apartment building fade from sight, taking with it my sense of security. Domenico gives me space for my thoughts, but he reaches over and takes my hand.

As we both gaze out of our windows, he gently rubs his thumb over my knuckles. It’s a comforting gesture, like something a boyfriend would do. I try not to read into it.

This week is about sex.

The farther we travel from the city center, heading toward the suburbs, the more my anxiety grows. I have my Find My iPhone feature activated, and Hanna can track my phone.

If anything happens, she’ll know where I am.

But, oddly enough, my nerves aren’t about the fear of being attacked. I’m more anxious that Domenico might touch me in a completely different way—and that I might actually enjoy it.

His house comes into view and it’s just as beautiful as the photo. It stands tall on the hill, overlooking the city.

The driver navigates up the long driveway and halts before a set of industrial-style gates. He punches in a code and the gates swing open with an ominous creak.

We’re only a few minutes away from the house now. Domenico reaches under the seat in front of him and retrieves a small briefcase. He pops it open, and my eyes widen at the sight of a handgun nestled in foam.

He takes it out and loads it with ammunition like in the movies. He pushes something on the side, probably the safety. Prevents it from firing, I guess.

He points it toward the ground, turns it so that the handle is facing me, and then extends it toward me.

“I promised you your own firearm, gattina,” he says nonchalantly. “This is yours.”

I recoil as if he’s just offered me a severed human head. I want nothing to do with that thing.

“I take it back,” I blurt out hastily. “I don’t even know how to use one of those.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “I will feel safer if you have it. Let me give you a quick lesson.”

As we approach the house, Domenico instructs me on how to disengage the safety and ready the gun for firing. He assures me that aim isn’t crucial, especially if the target is within close range.

Damn, this thing is heavy. They never show that in the movies.

I feel more terrified holding it than I did without it. But still, I tuck it into my handbag, pretending to be some sort of badass.

Hopefully, this will be the only thing I need to fake this week.