“I like to get to know the people who are interviewing me,” I returned, lobbing the ball back into her court, which she let drop with an unsatisfying splat when she remained silent, her fake, professional smile firmly in place. “Nothing? Hmm...have we met before?” I asked, half wondering if I’d slept with her at some point and forgotten to call her afterward. I mean, I couldn’t see myself purposefully sleeping with a four, but if vodka was involved...anything was possible.
“Not likely,” Lauren answered, puzzled by my question, and frankly, I was a little relieved until she said, “I doubt we run in the same circles,” and it was that tiny undercurrent of condescension that narrowed my gaze.
“It just seems that maybe we’ve met before and perhaps I made a bad impression...”
“Not at all,” she assured me, but her gaze remained unimpressed and flatly disinterested with anything that came out of my mouth, as if she were doing penance for a crime in a past life. Did I smell or something? I shifted against the unfamiliar sense of disdain emanating from the woman. “So, just tell me what you’d like the people to know about Nico Donato,” she suggested as if being helpful. “Charities you support, hobbies, what you do to make the world a better place?”
Suddenly, everything clicked. I saw her game now. It all made sense. The frumpy clothes, the sour attitude, the barely concealed contempt...and now the leading question that she was fairly certain she knew the answer to...all meant to paint me into a corner of her choosing.
Lauren Hughes wasn’t here to give me a fair shake; she was here to judge me. Time to make things interesting. If she thought she had me figured out, I’d give her something meaty to chew on. I grinned, sharing, “Actually, I don’t mean to brag but last week, I paid all the alcohol tabs at Buxom. Probably spent close to ten grand on that bill, but I was happy to do it. That’s just me...always giving.”
“Buxom...the strip club?” she repeated, her expression screwing into a frown.
“It’s more of a gentleman’s club, but yeah, I suppose you could call it a strip club, but you know, those girls work so hard. It’s really a misunderstood profession. I’m sure at least one of those ladies is working to put herself through law school, and how can you not support higher education, right?”
“Very generous of you,” Lauren returned drily, her lips pursing a little before saying, “It must be very nice to be able to fund other people’s vices.”
“Vice is fun, you should try it sometime.”
“Thanks but I think I’m good.”
“Oh, come now, surely there’s something taboo that flips your switch.”
“Sorry, pretty boring.”
That I can believe. But for the sake of argument, I said, “Indulge me,” my interest in the interview taking a hard left in a different direction. I wanted to see how ruffled I could make Little Miss Sourpuss’s feathers. “Perhaps...you enjoy a little spanking now and then? A little ‘tie me up, tie me down’ action behind closed doors?”
A flush climbed her throat to stain her cheeks as she shut me down. “Not really,” she answered, gesturing with professional courtesy to the recorder in her hand even as I sensed I’d gotten under her skin. “Shall we return to the interview, please?”
“Oh? Isn’t that what we were doing?”
“I can’t put in the article that you frequent Buxom. It’s not the most savory bit of information for an article trying to make you sound like a catch.”
“I am a catch.”
She shrugged as if to say, we can agree to disagree, but suggested, “Let’s get back to basics. I have some tried-and-true questions that usually lead to good, safe answers. Shall we?”
Sounds boring as hell. “Lead on.”
“Puppies or kittens?”
“Neither. They both shed, vomit and shit all over the place.” I gestured to my penthouse suite. “Clearly, I value a clean space in which to entertain.”
“Hmm...do you like any sort of pet?”
I considered her question, but I really couldn’t think of anything. Living things were too much work. Unfortunately, I learned that the hard way when I was seven. RIP, poor Bubbles the goldfish. “No, not really.”
“Nothing?” she pressed, as incredulous as if I’d admitted I enjoy tripping old people in my spare time. “Not even a hamster or a rabbit?”
I smiled, wondering how far I could push Miss Hughes’s boundaries. I wasn’t above playing dirty either—because dirty was fun. I drew a breath as if in thought, then said, “I do enjoy games.”
“Oh? Like board games? Clue, Monopoly, that sort of thing?” she asked, cocking her head with curiosity. “Or like card games?”
“Have you ever heard of pony play?”
Her expression screwed into a cute mask of confusion. “Pony play? Like polo or something?”
I chuckled, enjoying this way more than I should, but I was hungry for that sudden blush that would follow my explanation. For a brief—and I’m talking nanosecond brief—moment, when the high color brightened her cheeks, she was almost pretty.
And I was curious just how far I could push.
I started to explain, using my hands for illustration. “Imagine a beautiful mane attached to a short, notched column and then imagine that column going straight up a lovely ass, held in place by the cheeks, then you fit your sweet horsey with a halter and a bit and if you’re lucky, you get to ride her all night.”
She gasped in shock, thrown off her game. Flustered, she shut off her recorder, shooting me a dark, exasperated look, but those cheeks were so hot I could fry an egg.
And holy fuck, miracle of miracles, she’d just rocketed past a level four and hit a solid seven.
“Mr. Donato...that...that...that’s disgusting.”
I laughed. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“And inappropriate. Like, really inappropriate for the purposes of this interview. I can’t go writing that you like to stick things up women’s asses and ride them like horses. I mean, c’mon!”
I pretended to be perplexed. “I thought you wanted something authentic. This is the real me. I believe my potential mate should share my open-minded views on sex. Otherwise we’re not going to make it. I’d rather be honest and up-front from the start, don’t you think? Imagine all the pain and heartache we’d both suffer if I wasn’t honest and then when we discover we’re incompatible sexually, it’s nothing but tears and accusations. I’ve seen it too many times. Honesty is the best policy when it comes to sex. If you haven’t learned that yet, you will.”
I’d caught her neatly with seemingly earnest logic, and there wasn’t much she could say to refute my point.
Lauren pursed her lips as if holding back what she really wanted to say. Go ahead girl, let loose. Tell me what a perverted dick I am. I wanted to push all her buttons. “Mr. Donato—”
“Please call me Nico. Mr. Donato is so formal and boring. Besides, when I hear Mr. Donato, I immediately look for my oldest brother, Luca, or my father—both are giant killjoys, if you know what I mean, and I’m nothing like either of them.” I settled my gaze on her with intrigue and fluttered my fingers suggestively as I followed with, “Tell me, what taboo sexual act gets you all revved up? Surely, there’s something that gets the home fires burning...”
But instead of taking the bait, she narrowed her gaze and shut me down with a hard “May I speak frankly?”
This