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Oh. Huh. I have notices for appointments in twelve different time slots. My heart picks up a bit.
I’ve got twelve clients! How did that happen?
This is what I need, what I’ve hoped for.
I've been dreaming of this since I opened the studio, my inbox being flooded with appointments people have made online. And now… it is.
I look at the client names on the forms.
Ricco Montavio
Ricco Montavio
Ricco Montavio
He… He booked every appointment all day.
My heart flutters as I park my car and enter my studio. He’ll be here any moment…and for the rest of the day?
And then tonight, I’ll leave Emmy at Sarah’s and…head into Bella Notte.
What am I doing here?
I pause in the doorway, bracing against a sudden deluge of emotion. Guilt and fear plague me, and I feel nauseous.
I glance at the time.
Ten minutes.
I call Sarah.
“Babe, what’s up?”
“Can you do a super quick emergency three-way call?” I ask, hiding in the corner of my studio as if even the plants might hear this.
“With Jason?” she whispers.
“Yes,” I whisper back.
“Of course.”
One minute later, I’m slumped against the wall, my heart pounding as my sister and bestie get ready to hear me out.
“Alright girl, let’s hear it. Spill. By my calculations, I have seven minutes until my first meeting.”
I’ve already told them the tiniest bit about Ricco, and now I share that he’s booked me all day long and they are, of course, extremely eager to hear more.
“I just—I don’t know what I’m doing. He’s dangerous, I know that much,” I say, my voice shaking. “His family owns this club, and you know what that means. They’re… I don’t know, mafia or something.”
Sarah snorts. “Everyone’s mafia in Boston.”
My eyes go wide. “I’m not!”
“And this, darling, is why you’re the good sister.”
“Sarah,” I groan, staring at the clock on the wall. Not much time at all now, and he’ll be here. “Have you ever seen someone in the mafia?”
“Of course I have. Jesus, next thing you know you’ll be asking me if I’m still a virgin.”
“You have a child,” I say sensibly.
“So did the Virgin Mary,” she responds.
Jason groans. “I’m not a churchgoer and even I’m bracing so I don’t get struck by lightning. Okay, alright girls, focus. Ricco Montavio booked Dani for the day, after they met up at the club last night. He might be dangerous, but he manages to make that work for him in all the good ways. He pays good attention to Dani, and obviously wants to see more of her.”
I chew my lip. “Well, when you put it that way—you make this sound doable.”
“Doable? Of fucking course it’s doable, sweetheart!” I can practically see Jason shaking his head on the other end of the phone. “Listen, Dani. You feel guilty because your husband died. A husband who didn’t love you and who cheated on you.”
“The dad to my daughter,” I remind him with a tremor in my voice. “And she didn’t deserve that.”
“If we start talking about shit that happened to us that shouldn’t have, we’ll be here all day,” Jason retorts. “Dani, we’re talking about you now. You have a massage studio. It’s literally one of those things on your vision board. You’ve got clients. Your daughter is happy and healthy and so are you. Oh, and you’ve got the most stunningly gorgeous hair I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Sarah giggles. “One of those things is not like the other—”
“Oh, hush, bitch, you know I’m obsessed with that hair.”
He’s not the only one.
I remember the fire in Ricco’s eyes when he wrapped his hand around my hair.
The door blares obnoxiously and all the air goes out of the room. Ricco enters, dressed—oh my God—for the first time since I’ve met him, in dress clothes, as if he’s stepping foot into an office, and I swear I didn’t know until right this second that the man could look any hotter. He grimaces and gestures to the door. “I’m fixing that damn thing before the sun sets tonight.”
I give him a little wave and point to the phone before I hold up a finger. “Just a sec,” I mouth, and in a panic wonder if that looked like I said just sex.
Dear God.
My heart flutters. “Thanks so much, Mrs. Amesbury, I’ll check the calendar and get back to you later this afternoon. Yes, of course.”
Sarah giggles.
Jason hisses into the phone, “Hot Pocket’s arrived, I see. Knock his socks, his briefs, and anything else he might have on him off, and I want every detail later. Go. For fuck’s sake, Dani, you deserve earth-shattering orgasms and happiness. Love you.”
I disconnect the call and do my best to make sure my cheeks don’t look flushed, which probably doesn’t work at all.
“Why, hello, if it isn’t my”—I glance at the emails— “nine o’clock, ten o’clock… all-day client.” I put my phone down, cross my arms on my chest, and look up at him. “What’s that about?”
