Incentive (Infidelity Universe)

Her smarmy sales pitch makes my insides curl, and I consciously force myself to relax.

“You caught Evan’s eye,” she says, “and he’s picky.”

Evan fidgets with the cuff of his sleeve. “I’m not…”

She arches a brow.

“Okay, yeah, I’m picky.” He blows out a breath. “I also have a knack for choosing the heart-breakers.”

“I don’t believe Decker’s a heart-breaker.” She studies me with a thoughtful look on her slender face. “In fact, I think he’s extremely loyal to those he lets in.”

“You don’t know me.” I slip my hands in my pockets and direct my gaze to the Manhattan skyline.

“I investigated the Contender Sports scandal,” she says. “You stood by those kids, going as far as to pay their legal fees to ensure not only justice for what was done to them but financial compensation.”

“It was the least I could do.” My chest squeezes.

“You didn’t have to, and you bankrupted yourself to make sure Adam Lamont never touches a child again.” She stands and joins me at the window. “I’ll be honest, Mr. Gabrielli. You passed the psych evaluation and medical exams, but you don’t have the pedigree or noteworthy résumé I’m looking for. While you may be the most physically attractive applicant to ever walk through these doors, your looks aren’t enough.”

The verbal punch is enough to hitch my breath, but I keep my lips pinned and my expression neutral. It’s not like I wanted this job.

Except the idea of it is growing on me. Maybe it’s the professional way she laid out the expectations or the guarantee that the relationship would be mutually enjoyed. Or maybe it’s the most desperate incentive of all: Money.

“It’s your integrity,” she says, “that makes you extremely desirable as a candidate. Knowing you’ll respect our code of conduct, ethics, and confidentiality carries more weight than a degree from Harvard.”

My mouth dries, and my pulse speeds up. Is she offering me a job?

“Please.” She gestures for me to take the seat beside Evan. “We have a lot to discuss.”

I return to the chair and sit forward, elbows braced on my knees. “I haven’t accepted the job.”

“You will.”

“I’m not—”

She holds up a hand. “You need income, and you’re too smart to turn this down.”

My nostrils flare. “I want to choose the woman.”

“No. Client profiles are classified. You’ll be introduced to one client only—the one we choose for you.” She removes a three-page document from a folder on the desk and places it in front of me.

A quick glance confirms it’s a contract, dated and filled out with my name. I don’t touch it.

“If we broker this agreement,” she says, “Infidelity will pay you twenty thousand dollars a month for a year. Will that sufficiently cover your outstanding attorney fees and dig you out of destitution?”

It’s more than enough. More than I could ever make slinging beer or mopping floors. It would give me a fresh start and maybe enough seed money to start up a new business venture.

“Yes,” I say, with a thick layer of hope in my voice.

“Beyond the financial benefit, Infidelity will create opportunities for you. You’ll dine with important constituents and socialize with powerful people who are always looking for entrepreneurial ideas to invest in.”

Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. And they won’t know I’m a paid escort, since secrecy seems to be the most valuable service Infidelity offers.

“Your signature legally binds you to this agreement.” She nods at the papers and reclines in the chair. “Sign the last page if you agree to a one-year relationship with the client you’re assigned.”

She walks through the physical abuse exception, how the agreement continues or terminates at the end of one year, and the mandatory monogamy—all of which Evan already explained.

“Will the one-year pledge of fidelity be a problem for you?” She sets a pen on the papers and locks her fingers together in front of her.

“No.” I’ve never been in a committed relationship, but that’s not the reason my stomach hardens with reluctance. “What if I’m not attracted to her? I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but a woman can have sex when she’s not into it. A man…” I share a look with Evan. “We have to be aroused to make it work.”

“I promise,” she says without a hint of embarrassment, “a virile man like yourself will have no problem performing.”

“How the hell do you know?”

“I’m rarely wrong.” She lifts her chin. “But on the small chance I am, there are pills for erectile problems.”

Fuck that. Every molecule of male pride inside me cringes.

I can’t do this.

Except it’s only a year.

But what about my fucking dignity?

There won’t be a shred of dignity left when I’m standing in line at a homeless shelter.

I slide the agreement toward me, read through it, and let myself consider the offer.

For the next hour, we go over the fine details, such as the possibility of me relocating to another city or state, potential traveling and fancy parties, living conditions, schedules, responsibilities, and media exposure.