I exhale a pent-up breath. “Yes. That’s me. And you are?” I take out my phone and snap an obvious photo of him. “First and last name, please.”
He grins and rolls his eyes. “Santino Regio. I’m Mr. Luca Bianchi’s driver. It’s a short drive to his house. I assure you, you’re safe.”
I fire off a text to Shay with the photo of the old man and his name. Then another of the license plate of the sleek black sedan before I climb into the back seat. Santino put my suitcase, that I did fill with clothes even though Luca told me not to, in the trunk. The drive to The Bianchi Estate as Santino called it was quick and as I suspected it’s a mansion sitting on the beach.
A security guard at the gate lets us pass and Santino leaves his window down, stretching his arm out the window, letting the salty, warm air glide over his skin. “I love when he stays at the beach house.”
I widen my eyes as I take in the monstrosity in front of me. “How many houses does he have?”
Santino laughs. “I’ve lost count. This one is my favorite.” He pauses. “A little harder to procure the things he wants because it’s so remote, but the view makes up for the hassle.”
Am I the hassle? Am I what is being procured? Of course you are, bitch. I hiss at myself. As we pull around to the multi-car garage he hops out, his fat cheeks jiggling as he hurries to open my door and get my suitcase from the trunk. “Follow me. I’ll show you to your room and let Luca know you’re here.”
This is where my heart pounds. Where all my bad decisions compound and make me feel like an absolute idiot. Shay was right. I should have taken home one of the losers at the bar. At least it would be believable. No one is going to believe that I’m with a man who owns a house like this… hell, it sounds like he owns half of the free world. It’s so outrageous my family is going to sniff out the bullshit immediately. So where does that leave me now?
In a fucking palace by the sea with a man who wants to fuck me rotten for a week straight. Santino opens a door and the cool sweet-scented air hits me in a rush. It smells like rich people. That musky, floral scent that I imagine Beyoncé’s house smells like. The scent of money. So much of it they might soak it in sweet smelling herbs then light it on fire. I gulp. “Hey, ah, Santino. Luca is a nice guy, right?”
He laughs, shaking his head. That’s not good. “Yeah, he’s a nice guy.”
“I’m supposed to believe you when you say it like that?”
“Are you here because you want a nice guy?”
Woah, he just ball checked me. “Actually, sort of yes.” I’ll leave out the part about bringing a boyfriend home for Christmas because I have a feeling he’d laugh at me even harder than Luca did.
He narrows his eyes. “I can drive you back to the airport right now if you’d like.”
Welp, that’s about as close to an answer as I’m going to get. “I’d like to meet him first, but will that offer stand over the next week?”
“Mr. Bianchi is a lot of things, but he’s not into kidnapping. So yes, if you ask me, I will take you to the airport. Don’t ask unless you’re certain. He doesn’t take to losing things well.”
“I’m not a thing,” I hiss back.
His reply is a chuckle. Asshole. After we wind through hallways that I know will prove challenging to navigate alone, he pushes open double doors and then pulls my suitcase inside. There’s a doctor, or who I assume is a doctor because of the white coat and the bag at his feet.
Santino turns to me. “This is the room you’ll call home and that is Dr. Rossi. He’s going to do a quick blood test and STD panel. It will only take a few minutes.”
What in the ever-loving hell did I get myself into? “A blood test,” I stutter.
“Standard protocol. I’m sure you understand,” Dr. Rossi says when he glimpses my open mouth and glassed over stare.
Santino lays a hand on my shoulder. “You’re in good hands. Let me go let the boss know you’re here and with the doctor. Settle in. There’s a phone in the kitchen you can call to get anything you’d like. Next to it is an NDA that you’ll have to sign, too.”
“Listen there, jolly man. I hate needles,” I choke out, looking at the doctor. “And why am I signing a non-disclosure agreement? Who is this guy?”
“It’s standard procedure.” How frequently are women coming in here like this?
“Yeah, yeah, so everyone says. What if I say no? To all of it? Luca didn’t say anything about any of this. I’m feeling a little nervous, scared and to be honest, freaked the fuck out. Where is he?”
“I’ll go get him,” Santino says, face grim.
My hands are shaking and I’m replaying scenes from a movie everyone loved, but I never saw all of. If he wants to beat me, I’m out, I think. The doctor smiles at me when Santino closes the door behind us.
“I’m a real easy stick,” he says. “One vial. I have an office here in the house and will have results quickly. It’s to keep Mr. Bianchi safe. You, too.”
My voice quivers. “What is he? Some sort of sex addict? Is this a revolving door?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. Actually, he hasn’t had a woman outside of work for a long time. This time last year.”
“Outside of work? What is that supposed to mean?”
Dr. Rossi quirks a brow. “You really have no clue? Did you even look him up before you flew to a different country? Try to find out who you are going to spend time with?” Do I admit I didn’t even know his last name before Santino said it? That would make me seem desperate.
“Why don’t you search Lucas Ferrari on your phone while I prep to take the samples. It will distract you so much you won’t notice as much I need you to undress and put on the gown folded on the end of the bed too. Just a quick swab and I’ll be on my way. Luca won’t come in here until I’m finished. Santino just didn’t want to deal with you anymore.”
“What if I need him to drive me to the airport? He said he’d take me whenever I wanted!”
The doctor narrows his eyes. “Search the name. Do it now. Then tell me you want to go home.” Rossi seems amused. “It’s surprising you’re here and you don’t know of him.”
A wave of dizziness coats me and I sit down in a plush chair next to a hallway. A damn hallway inside a bedroom. The room is the size of Shay’s entire house in upstate New York. The search is quick and the first image that pops up it is X-rated. His dick. Even though I only saw it once during the video call, I’d recognize it anywhere. I scroll a bit more and there are tons of graphic images of him and other women.
“He’s a fucking porn star?” My eyes widen. “Why would I know that? Also, I’m glad you’re a doctor because I feel like I might pass out.”
He hands me a bottle of water and I press play on a video. Luca is staring at the camera, not that different than the angle I was privy to last night. Then the camera pans over a busty blonde with a perfect body. He approaches her slowly, spreads her thighs with one leg and hits his knees to eat her out. Tapping rapidly to close the video makes several confounded pop-ups litter my phone. “Any other questions?”
I lay a hand on my chest and try to catch my breath. “Yes. Sex workers don’t live like this. They don’t make this kind of money. There was a girl in my marketing class who was a call girl and she was in school to learn how to market herself better. She raked it in, I remember her stories, but this? This is another level. Who is he? Really?”
“I’ll talk, you put on the gown.”
“I’m not making a video with him!” I nearly shout, realizing what this now seems like.
Dr. Rossi tries to cover a laugh. “You’re not here to work. Quite the opposite, Mr. Bianchi is on vacation. As for your question of who he is, I’ll answer that when you’re gowned.”
I do as I’m told, but it’s mostly because I’m in a zombie mode, and I am already here. The doctor seems rational. More than the lackey, Santino. A porn star, Lizzy. What in the hell are you doing here? It’s hard to be surprised as I didn’t know anything about him, b
ut I’m still… scared. A porn star on vacation. Wouldn’t one assume he would go celibate for a week if you fuck for a living? When I’m naked but for the soft cotton medical gown, I call for Rossi. He comes in, toting his worn leather bag.
“Search the Italian royal family next,” he orders, swabbing the crook of my elbow with an alcohol swab.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Is he a prince? Tell me he’s a prince!” Now the shock has taken over and I’m cussing and screaming, and also sort of wanting to call Shay to tell her I told her so.
He nods. “He is. He inherited the wealth. His sex empire is all his own. As you can imagine, finding women who aren’t affected by his wealth and status proves difficult. It’s why when he dates, it’s often like this.”
Rossi tells me he’s about to stick me, but for the first time in my life, I don’t feel when the needle enters my skin. I’m looking at photos of Luca and his beautiful royal family. The juxtaposition of this compared to the search I did before it is black and white. It seems as if while they’re deemed royalty, they don’t really do much of anything except charity events and live a fast and glamourous lifestyle.
“How do they let him do that kind of work? Isn’t that bad press?”
“Have you seen his manhood?” the doctor asks, sticking a bandage on my arm. “Plus, he does what he wants. No one tells him what to do. They’ve grown to accept it, and it’s not as if he has some unrealistic standards and rules to live by. He lives by one. Stand for something or you’ll fall for anything. His dick, quite literally, stands near constantly. That’s his ethos.”
I stay silent as I lay down on the bed and spread my legs as asked, my phone in front of my face as I scroll the millions of entries about him, ignoring the prodding with a speculum. After the doctor finishes taking the swab, he asks when I got my IUD put in place and what brand it is so he can confirm with my doctor back in the states. I’m not surprised by any of the random questions anymore. This seems necessary, and I’m sick with nerves at the prospect of having to meet Luca.
I let the gown fall to the ground when the doctor exits. That’s when Luca walks in. Tall, chiseled masculine. Perfect in every way except in all the morally sound ways women want their men to adhere to. His skin is bronzed, and his gaze is ferocious as he takes in my naked body from head to toe. “Just as I hoped I’d find you.”
I should be horrified that he’s seeing me at my most vulnerable, but how many exposed women have his eyes seen? If the internet has anything to say about it, it’s probably thousands. Luca has confidence I’ve never seen in a man before. His gaze tells me my body is an instrument he is skilled at playing. His tongue skirts across his bottom lip. “I’m still in shock,” I explain, not having anything intelligent to say, I figure I should stick to the truth.
“Rossi gave you the details.” Luca reaches behind a door that must lead to a bathroom and unhooks a silk robe. He tosses it on the bed.
“Details?” I shriek. “You’re some prince turned porn star and that was more than enough details, he gave me a trough filled with manure.”
He cocks his head to the side. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
I ignore his plea for explanation. “Having women get a physical upon entering isn’t the best way to romance, just so you know. Maybe say hello before you force a doctor between my legs.”
His grin is mischievous. “It’s easier this way.”
“Do you do this often? I’m starting to feel a bit like a sex worker myself right now.”
“Oh, sweet Elizabeth. I haven’t even touched you… yet.”
“Answer the question,” I fire back, reaching for the robe and tying it on as his eyes catalog my every movement. “Do you do this often?”
“No. Once a year when I take a holiday.” He steps toward me. “Are you angry? Hungry? How can I please you? No sex until your labs come back, but in the meantime, tell me what you want.”
“A proper meeting!”
He extends his hand. “I am Luca Bianchi. Charmed to meet you.”
When I slip my hand into his, he flips it, and brings it to his lips and places a warm kiss on the center of my palm. “I… I… It’s nice to meet you, Luca. Call me Lizzy.”
He doesn’t release my hand, in fact, he kisses my wrist and flicks his eyes up to meet mine. “How about I just call you mine?”
Chapter Four
The palace by the sea
“IT’S NEAR IMPOSSIBLE for me to date in Italy. If I’m traveling it’s for work, and I don’t date when I’m working. I take off most of November and December every year. To decompress.”
I’m rapid-firing questions, and he takes them in stride. I think. Luca is impossible to read with his broody facial expressions and distracting muscle tone. “What about my post made you select me?”
“There’s a lot of garbage on that site. Don’t know if you noticed or not.”
I take a long swallow from my champagne flute. “I was your only option. It’s starting to make more sense.”
“You want to feel special? Like I picked you from thousands? Is that it?” Luca wears this mysteriously sexy look. I’m almost as frightened of it as I am turned-on by it.
“I’d settle for what caught your eye about me.” I put my hands, palms up by my shoulders. “There has to be something that tilted the scales in my favor.”
“Your paragraph was really… engaging.” He tries to hide a smile.
I let my hands drop. “You’re serious?”
He sighs and has a drink of water. He doesn’t drink alcohol, nor does he put anything that isn’t natural into his body he tells me. We’re sitting at a table on his private beach waiting for his waitstaff to bring dinner. I’ve pounded half the bottle of champagne by myself and I’m Hoovering bread that I’m told is hard to get on an island. Carbs are always there for me in distressing times. Crescent rolls at Christmas dinner, and baguettes with a porn star prince. It’s all the same. “What about my paragraph? Specifically?”
Luca runs his thumb across his lower lip. “You had an innocent look in the photos you posted. You don’t remind me of work.”
I widen my eyes. “I’m not that innocent.” For all intents and purposes in his world, I am though.
He laughs, looking away. “Oh, baby. You’re innocent.” His gaze sears into mine. “That’s a good thing. It’s my vacation.”
“If it’s your vacation, what is in this for me?”
A man dressed in a fresh suit sets our plates in front of us, and Luca remains quiet. After the waiter leaves he says, “A good time. You’ve never been to Bora Bora.”
I take a bite of risotto and swallow. The candle in the center of the circular tables flickers against a light breeze, but doesn’t go out. I clear my throat and watch him chew, his eyes on me. “I don’t know if I can take you home to meet my family.”
His thick, sexy neck works as he swallows. “You don’t want me to meet your family, Elizabeth.” Luca’s phone, which is always near, vibrates. He looks at it and smiles.
“Maybe it’s less of a want, and more of a need,” I explain, ignoring his reaction to whatever he’s looking at.
He slides the phone into the inside jacket pocket. “Tell me why you don’t have a boyfriend.” The last word rolls off his tongue softly.
This is where I should fluff the resume and give him a lie about being too wrapped up in my career. “All the good guys my age are married with kids. The rest are divorced with baggage. After that, it’s the derelict, cheating assholes who aren’t worth my time. I waited too long, I guess.” I pause and eat a few bites. He’s listening intently, waiting for me to go on. “My friends are married or are in long-term relationships that will end in marriage. I’ve given my heart too many times to have it trampled on. A few years ago, I stopped giving it away.” I shrug. Like that should be a good end to the explanation. Why he cares is beyond me.
“I’ve never given my heart away. Not even once. It’s why I’m successful.” Luca clears his throat. “I hav
e some good news. You’re clean.”
I roll my eyes as he pours the rest of the champagne into the flute. “I could have told you that.”
“Of course I am as well.” He reaches across the table to hold my forearm and stops the bubbly from passing my lips. “How do you feel? Buzzed and happy is where you should be, not drunk and sloppy.”
Narrowing my eyes at his fingers on my skin, I say, “That’s a bold requirement. Asking a virtual stranger to stay sober before you woo me with your porn star ways. I need another bottle. Can you make that happen with a hand gesture? Do these people do whatever you say?” He lets go of me and I bring my glass to the table and release it.
“If they want a paycheck, they do,” he quips. “Most of them enjoy living in paradise for a couple of months. Are you finished with your questions? Did Rossi sate your curiosity about my life?”
“For the most part, I guess. Why don’t you want to know anything more about me?” I know why. Because this is a fleeting, forgettable fling.
“I know all I need to know. You’re clean. I’ve seen your naked body. It’s perfect, by the way, and I know you’re here only for me. The only ulterior motive you have is to have someone to bring home to some small-town Christmas.”
“My body is not perfect, but thanks, I guess.” A lump lodges in my throat. “How do you know I’m from a small town. I only told you New York.”
He grins. “Research, Elizabeth. It may seem my circle is large by what you see on the internet and who my family is, but in reality, my world is fairly small. I don’t share my life with people. A little research goes a long way. Don’t be offended. Be flattered.”
There are a million things I’d like to say, but I favor eating over any sort of argument those things might bring up. This is the kind of thing that happens in movies. Everyone gapes at the woman’s stupid decisions, but they don’t know, can’t know, what it actually feels like to live inside a fantasy like this. I want to give in, and believe that this will have the end I initially planned. A date for Christmas. The sex with a prince will be a side bonus. As I look around his palace by the sea I feel nauseous, not sick, just anxious to get to the next part of the story.
The Christmas Con: A Novella Page 2
