The Filthy One

No doubt he’s got enough money to set up his great-grand-children. The sex appeal is off the charts. The dominant gene did not skip over him, either. The trifecta of the New York elite: rich, sexy, confident.

“I need a wife and you’re perfect for the job.” Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve been propositioned for this particular job offer.

“Not interested.” I refuse to get tied down into someone else’s world. I’ve got my family to worry about, I can’t be at some total stranger’s finicky whim.

“You haven’t heard my proposal.” The subtle chuckle under his breath paired with the uptick of one corner of his mouth, tells me he’s amused by my refusal. Probably thinks I’m playing hard to get.

I’m not.

“I’m glad to hear that because as proposals go, that one was subpar. I’m sure any of the Upper East Side debutants would be thrilled, though.” I lean in and whisper like it’s the best kept secret in New York. “It’s still a no for me.” Uncrossing my legs and gathering up my documents for what has turned out to be a great big waste of my time, I look up and find him watching me intently. A shiver runs down the length of my spine and it has nothing to do with fear. Those eyes are magnetic and if I were any other woman, living any other life, I’d be stupid to say no to this man. I’m guessing he’s planning on offering an obscene amount of money, too. Except, how much could it actually be worth, this fake wedding? A hundred thousand? I could make that in two months if I choose my clients well.

Plus, I’m still reeling from the whole Nathaniel ordeal. His last words both hurt and pissed me off.

“When your heart finally decides who it wants to belong to, you know where to find me. Or him.”

Why is it we’re always paying for the mistakes of others? Kai has been in my life for as long as I can remember. I don’t know a time when I didn’t love him, but that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t deserve the ultimatum. Not to mention the choice is no longer in my hands. Freya may have been a cunt to me, but that’s not who I am. He’s engaged, case closed.

“I get down on my knees for no one, but I can say this. Five million. Two tonight, three at the end of our contract. Three months, beginning to end.” Smug, with a smirk that tells a story of privilege and the absence of the word “no” thrown at his face, he leans back and waits for me to fall at his feet.

When I thought he’d propose an obscene amount of money, I was not expecting that. And as much as I would love to say yes without a second thought—the money would change my life, not to mention my brother’s—for all I know, he expects equally obscene things from me.

“Hmm, you drive a hard bargain, Mr. Mancini. Let me hear your… what did you call them? Logistics?” It can’t hurt to at least hear him out.

Checking his watch like this meeting is beginning to bore him, he straightens right before he rises to his feet and holds out a hand for me.

“Let’s talk business over dinner.” His hand outstretched, he arches a brow, eyes swimming in humor like he thinks I’m being cute.

“Look, you’re very…”—I swirl a finger around his whole sexy mafia thing he’s got going on—“pretty. And frankly, quite sexy, but it’s barely three in the afternoon and I have other potential clients I need to meet.” Sweeping all of my papers into my leather satchel, I rise to my feet and scowl at the height difference between us. Even in my heels, he’s towering over me, making me feel small and insignificant.

Except, that look in his eyes says otherwise.

He wants me.

“All of your meetings have been canceled.” I frown, trying to register the words that just came out of his mouth. Then I laugh, my head thrown back like he’s the new stand-up comedian of the century.

Sighing, I look back at him and find he’s not the least bit amused.

“Wait, are you serious?” What the actual fucking fuck? Blinking away the shock of what he’s just admitted, I scoff, but there’s exactly zero humor in it.

“You can’t be serious.” Taking out my phone, I bring up the calendar app and notice all of my appointments, four of them today and two tomorrow, have been canceled. I keep staring at the screen like somehow it will come back up and this is all a misunderstanding. Except the days and hours stay completely empty.

“How…?”

“I have a guy.”

He… has a guy? What the fuck does that even mean?

“You can’t do that!” I reel in my suddenly-loud voice, remembering where I am, and whisper-yell at him, putting all of my indignation into each of my words. “Who the fuck do you think you are, invading my privacy like that?” We’re nose to nose—as much as possible given the height difference—eyes boring into each other. My nostrils are flaring, my entire body buzzing with pent-up anger while Mr. Sex-in-a-Suit almost looks bored with this entire exchange.

“I like to eliminate my competition.” He shrugs, barely affected by our altercation.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Throwing my hands up, I take a step back ready to leave him behind and let him deal with his own predicament.

“Watch your language. I expect my wife to speak elegantly and not like a whore off the streets.” He bends low enough for his next words to be just for me. “Unless my dick is buried so deep inside her that sophistication is fucked right out of her. Only then, do I approve.”

The fucking gall of this guy.

“Well then, it’s settled.” Our faces are so close right now, I can feel his minty breath caress my parted lips. “Fuck, shit, and cunt are my favorite words in the English repertoire. And, Mr. Mancini? I change for no man.” With a raised brow, I give him my sweetest smile before turning on my heel and taking my first step away from him.