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“Works perfect. See you tonight, darling.”
She rolls her eyes and storms off.
Fiona, my wife, has a temper.
I head into the office. For a while, I can lose myself in work, but around midday I shoot Ford and Carmine a text, unwilling to leave this evening entirely to chance.
Gareth: Hey boys, listen up, I’m bringing someone to dinner at the Oak Club tonight. Don’t freak out.
Ford: Sorry, what now? You’re bringing a date?
Gareth: Yes, something like that.
Carmine: Wow. Fuck. But what does something like that mean, exactly?
Gareth: I’ll explain tonight.
Ford: Mysterious.
Carmine: Typical lawyer bullshit. Explain now.
Gareth: Her name is Fiona, she used to be my legal assistant, but now we’re in an arrangement. I’ll give details later.
Carmine: Arrangement?? What the fuck?
Ford: Is this an escort situation? Are you Pretty Womaning this girl? If she’s an escort, just say so, man. Nobody cares who you’re fucking.
Carmine: Even if you’re paying her.
Gareth: She’s not an escort. Enough with the jokes.
Carmine: Bro, you can’t message us about some arrangement and not expect jokes. Seriously, what’s the deal here? Should we be concerned?
I lean back, considering. Should they worry? Probably—I’m in a bad position, but it’s one I took on myself, and I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I could handle it.
Telling them is a risk. Carmine has connections to the Crowley family. They’re in the same line of business with the same friends in common. But I can’t keep Fiona from my closest friends and still think I can pull this off. I’m not going to lie to them, since they’ll see through it immediately, which means bringing them in on the scam.
Just them though. Not their wives. If Carmine wants to tell Brice, and Ford wants to tell Kat, that’s on them.
Gareth: No worries. I’ll explain later.
I turn my phone off and spend the rest of the afternoon trying to work. It goes about as well as expected, and at five, I head straight to the apartment. I shower, get changed into something fresh but still formal, and walk into the kitchen, expecting to have to wait for Fiona.
Instead, she’s standing near the windows, scrolling through her phone.
Holy fucking shit.
I stand total still. Captivated. Entranced. She’s in a black dress, almost entirely backless, showing off her smooth skin. Her muscles move as she glances over her shoulder, her hair down and swept forward, eye makeup dark, making her light eyes practically glow.
She looks incredible. Absolutely fucking incredible. A slit up one leg shows off thigh, and the low-cut front shows off her unreal tits. I lick my lips, unable to help myself. I’m tempted to drag her back into my room and claim her, leave my mark on her. Spank her ass raw and pink. Kiss her throat until I leave hickeys all down her neck.
“How’s this?” she asks, a little smile on her face.
And she fucking knows.
God damn, the girl knows what she looks like.
“You look perfect,” I say, and I mean it.
