I can’t help but think about what kind of wonders Leo might have worked if I’d let him kiss me, but then I remind myself that I’m supposed to be forgetting all about that encounter.
“It’s our pleasure,” Dante says, giving me a grin that I have to look away from because it’s too charming. Coupled with his still-shirtless state, it’s a threat to the calm demeanor that I’m determined to maintain.
I’m having trouble finding a good place to focus my gaze with so many muscles and so much skin on display. I settle on Troy, who’s watching me with curiosity.
“Have you thought about what new things you’d like to have planted? I have some suggestions,” he says.
I’m relieved for a topic of conversation that should be completely free of flirtation. He and I talk for a few minutes about our ideas, with the other guys joining in occasionally. I breathe a sigh of relief, glad our relationship is where it should be, homeowner and service providers — landscaping service, to be specific — none of that personalized fantasy stuff that Leo tried to sell me.
But then our discussion of trees and groundcover plants wraps up, and Leo fixes his eyes on me. “Have you thought any more about what you and I talked about the other night?” he asks.
I consider playing dumb, giving my head a small shake, with the hope that he’ll get the message and drop the topic, when he continues, “About bringing your fantasies to life?”
I must look like one of the rabbits that occasionally come into the yard, the way they freeze when they spot a threat, how they don’t even breathe until the danger is gone. I’m not in mortal danger, but there are several potential pitfalls to answering his question.
When I don’t say anything, Leo says, “I talked to the others about it.” He looks around the table at the other three men. “They’re all very interested in the idea of acting out your fantasies with you.”
“Does the club pay you a commission when you bring in new bookings?” I ask.
He frowns at me. “Club Red? What does it have to do with anything?”
“You’re trying to bring in business for them. A private booking?”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with business,” Dante says. “We’re talking about pleasure.”
I look around at the men, trying to read their faces. “What exactly are you talking about?”
I shouldn’t ask. I really shouldn’t, but I can’t deny that I’m intrigued.
“We’re not talking about any kind of business arrangement,” Leo says. “We’re talking about something that would be enjoyable for all of us. A win-win arrangement. A way to convince you that fantasies can and should be fun.”
I have no idea what to say. I’m shocked as I process what he’s saying. It was one thing for Leo to flirt with me, and I had hoped it was authentic, without an ulterior motive that involved making money, but even though he’d mentioned his brother and his friends, I hadn’t really let myself imagine it.
They’re proposing that the four of them help me act out my fantasies.
I don’t know how many times I’d need to repeat that sentence in my head for the reality to sink in.
Four of them. Me.
I have so many questions, and I can’t imagine how this would work, but I can’t bring myself to ask questions. I can’t speak at all.
11
Dante
Lorraine doesn’t seem like a woman who’s often at a loss for words, but we seem to have stunned her into silence.
“I guess we’ve taken you by surprise,” my brother says. Darian is always the first to help someone who seems uncomfortable or upset. He’s been that way ever since we were little kids. I have a vivid memory of him comforting a girl whose balloon had floated away, and he always consoled classmates who were distressed about anything.
“What we were thinking,” I say, “is that you’d share your fantasies with us, and we’d make them happen. We’ll bring them to life. It sounds like you deserve some fun after what I’m going to assume was an unsatisfying marriage.”
Lorraine’s beautiful green eyes shift to her left, like she’s remembering something, and she frowns. Of course, I don’t know shit about her marriage, but since when do satisfying marriages end in divorce?
She takes a drink of water as the four of us watch her. Finally, she says, “What kind of fantasies?”
“The sky’s the limit,” Leo says. “I mean, no revenge murder fantasies, of course, but you know … the fun ones. Sexual fantasies.”
She nods, as if this is a business discussion and she’s silently weighing the pros and cons of our offer.
“It would all be on your terms,” Leo says. “Your fantasies, and never anything that would make you uncomfortable.”
“Unless you like being uncomfortable,” I add, grinning and aiming to put her at ease.