by Alexis Angel
In truth, the payment has gotten larger and larger as each person who comes through the doors has found love. Nowadays, people come based on the payout itself - but they all leave with love.
“You came to the right place,” I say, allowing the grin on my face to fade slowly, letting him know that I don’t take the promises I make to my clients lightly.
“I want to sign up for 100 Days,” Malcolm says, looking me in the eyes. “I don’t think I’m going to fall in love and I have $100 million to prove it.”
“You come in here looking for love, you’ll find it, but I’ll take your money to convince you, Malcolm. Now,” I open one of the drawers under my desk and take one the questionnaires I have there, “please fill out this questionnaire and be as detailed as you can. The more details you give us, the easier it’ll be for us to find you a match.”
“Details, uh…” he mutters, taking the sheet of paper out of my hands and allowing his eyes to wander over the questions on the page. “Lots of questions in here,” he raises his eyes to meet mine, clearly not impressed with having to put in the work.
“That’s how it works. We have to get to know you before we can find you a match.”
“And are you sure you can do that?” he asks, raising his eyes from the page and looking straight at me with an expression that screams I doubt you can pull it off.
“Of course,” I reply, looking back at him, but there’s an insidious whisper inside of me that tells me that Malcolm is going to be a problematic one. Hotter than Hell’s cauldron itself, he’s more experienced with the opposite sex than most men that walk inside my office. He seems like the type of man who doesn’t really believe in love, and you can trust me when I tell you that I know the type. I fell for a man just like him before, and I’ll never make that mistake again.
“So, how does this work…?” he asks me, folding the questionnaire in half and placing it inside his jacket.
“You make the buy-in and then, according to your profile, we’ll arrange a few dates for you. Eventually, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“What if I don’t?”
“In that case, you’ll be entitled to $4 billion. It’s all in the contract you’ll sign.”
“That seems like a risky proposition … for you,” he says, lowering his voice and leaning slightly forward, his eyes never leaving mine. I mimic him, leaning toward him as well, and I notice his eyes being drawn by my lips.
“I never fail, Mr. Bane. Ever,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes as I feel the pressure in the room grow and grow, almost as if the air around us has become heavier.
“We’ll see about that, won’t we…?” he says, his voice so low that his words are barely a whisper. Leaning back, I notice his gaze hiking down to my cleavage, and he’s completely shameless about it.
“We’ll see about that,” I repeat after him, my heart suddenly picking up the pace.
Suddenly, I’m not so sure about this whole thing.
This isn’t going to be easy.
4
Malcolm
"Sweet and salty," Stacey purrs, licking a stray drop of cum from her lips before reaching for a chocolate truffle. "It's the perfect combo." I can't help but marvel at how exact her lipstick matches her nail polish—a candy apple red, with a gloss that looks wet.
Instead of responding, I give her a nonchalant nod as I pull on my pants.
Athena knows how to pick a hotel suite; I'll give her that. And she knows how to pick women. Over these last two months, she's thrown every trick in the book at me.
And let me tell you—this room drips opulence and seduction.
There's a tray of strawberries on the coffee table, a handful of the finest dark chocolate truffles I've ever seen, and two flutes of Dom Perignon White Gold champagne, popping and glittering like two scoops of diamonds.
Of course, I know this is all part of Athena's game.
It's a trap—a gilded cage, really. But a damn good one at that.
The nicer the room—the props—the girls—all of that is supposed to lure me into falling in love, but so far this has been easier than I could've ever imagined.
Like I said, love is a foreign concept. I wasn't kidding when I told you that.
One of Athena's most recent girls—Stacey, is fastening her bra across her back.
Sure, she's hot—a fiery red-head with a perfect heart-shaped ass and great tits that she's been flashing in my face all night, and she just gave me a grade-A blow job, but I'm not in the least bit interested in fucking her, let alone falling in love with her.
Just thinking about that as a possibility almost makes me laugh.
After she finishes pulling her clothes back on, she reaches down and pinches a strawberry in between her fingers.
She smiles, and slowly brings it to her lips, taking a bite while keeping her eyes locked on mine. I watch as a small, ruby-colored drop of juice escapes from her lips and drips down her chin.
"Whoops," she giggles, scooping the juice with her fingertip, and licking it. "Want a bite?" she asks, holding the strawberry in my direction.
"Maybe another time, doll," I say, pulling up the zipper of my pants with a quick, metallic zing.
It's an act of finality.
She looks disappointed. Downright deflated. Even her hair has lost some of its volume. She knows her time is running out with me, and she's ready to pull out all the stops.
"How about a bite of these?" she purrs, squeezing her breasts together. Her nipples are popping out above the top of her bra. For a split second, I think about using my tongue to give those tits a quick taste, but I shake that thought from my mind.
And then I wonder if something's wrong with me.
Am I defective? I mean, here's a beautiful woman throwing herself at me, and I'm not in the least bit interested in fucking her.
My cock isn't even hard.
What. The. Fuck.
In fact, I haven't been interested in fucking any of the girls Athena's sent my way. Don't get me wrong, they've all been hot—some of the hottest women I've ever seen—but I'm not interested, not even tempted. And that's gotta be some kind of record for me.
And it's not because of this '100 Days' game either.
Sure, I'm competitive, and I want to win … but if I'm honest, the real reason I'm not interested in fucking any of these girls is because I can't get Athena Hawke out of my mind.
She's unlike any woman I've ever seen before.
Confident … and yet, indifferent.
I'm intrigued by the way she didn't fall over herself when we met. Most women do, but not her. She acted as if she didn't care if I was in the room or not.
I've never experienced that before.
And I had no idea she was so … hot. Those sharp stilettos, tight pencil skirt, and perfectly tailored blouse hugging her curves… now there's a woman who knows what she's doing. Her business acumen is enviable, and she knows how to command a room better than any woman I've ever met.
The more I think about it, the more it dawns on me that she'd make an interesting conquest. What man wouldn't want to conquer something like that? But then again, it's probably best that she's not in this game.
Why am I still thinking about her anyways?
I never think about a single woman this much. I can hardly remember a woman's name, let alone a face. And now I'm obsessing over one.
So, why Athena?
Why now?
It bothers me a little bit that I'm even fucking thinking about her this much, after just one, brief encounter. I don't like the thought of a woman getting under my skin, especially now. Not like this. I need to keep a cool, clear head to win this fucking game.
But honestly, I'm not worried.
"Maybe I'll see you around?" Stacey says, her voice thick with hope. I almost forgot that she was still here. She has her purse slung over one shoulder, and is nearly out the door.
"Sure doll," I say. "Maybe."
But even she recognizes that as a lie
, and without another sound, she steps out the door, closing it behind her.
In her silent absence, I wonder if I'm even capable of falling in love.
But I shake that thought from my brain like flicking ants off of a picnic blanket.
It's a nuisance following those thoughts.
It's not fucking worth my time.
This is about business, and right now, my ass is on the line. My future wealth depends on it. It's the difference between the penthouse suite and a cardboard box, remember?
I'm looking for money, not love. It's really that fucking simple.
At this point, I'm halfway though the game, with only a couple of months to go.
50 days down, and 50 more to go.
I'm in the home stretch, baby. I can smell the money.
5
Athena
Well, I was right—Malcolm's trouble. I threw the best girls I had on file at him, and he still didn’t take the bait. And when I mean the best girls, I really mean it—they were all smart, witty, and beautiful. Malcolm didn’t even bat an eye before sending them back. I mean, he didn’t even fuck any of them; the farthest he went was receiving a blowjob. The man is a challenge, but what else was I expecting from someone like him? The moment I saw him for the first time, I knew right away that he was a hard man when it came to matters of the heart. Sure, he has a reputation when it comes to sleeping with beautiful woman, but I don’t think anyone on Earth has ever heard of Malcolm falling in love.
Which is a pity, really. If Malcolm was a serious guy capable of love, I’m pretty sure he’d make some lucky woman very, very happy. At least between the sheets. I mean, when it comes to looks, the man is perfect, and I’ve only seen him inside a suit. God, I can’t help but wonder how he’d look outside a suit, wearing nothing but a layer of muscles, his cock hard and ready to …
What the hell am I even saying? I need to keep my head between my shoulders, not have it rolling around in the gutter. “Jesus, this is bad,” I say as I go through the documents in front of me, briefings detailing the women I have on file. After throwing my best ones at Malcolm, I’m slowly starting to run out of options.
And this happened fast. “He’s that notorious troublemaker, right? Malcolm Bane?” Julia asks me, sitting on my desk and folding her legs as she looks down at the documents in front of me.
Julia has been my best friend for years now. We’ve met when we were still in college, and we hit it off right from the start. I don’t believe in soul mates when it comes to love, but that’s an expression I simply have to use when it comes to Julia. Friends like hers are something as rare as true love—perhaps, even rarer.
“Yeah, he is. Can you believe this? He didn’t care about any of these girls,” I tell her, pointing at the discarded stack of briefings on the far end of my desk. She reaches for the stack and picks a few of the documents, casually appraising the girls in there.
“Mm. He’s picky, that's for sure. Which is weird. Wasn’t he supposed to be some kind of sex addict?”
“Yeah, but I guess he’s a picky sex addict. Besides, getting him to be with a woman isn’t enough. I need to make him fall in love,” I sigh, running one hand through my hair.
“You might need to lose your panties on this one, Athena,” Julia smirks, looking at me with an amused expression on her face. “Or else you might lose your shirt.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” I tell her with a frown, and she just shrugs.
“It wouldn’t be that bad, would it? I mean, just look at him…” she says, picking up the folder where I have Malcolm’s picture and all of his personal details. She opens the folder on top of her legs and gazes down at his picture, biting down on her lower lip. “He’s a piece of heaven...” she whispers, more to herself than to me.
“Very funny. Aren’t you late for your yoga class or something?”
“Oh, crap,” she breathes out, unlocking her phone and looking at the timestamp there. “Crap, crap, crap.” She jumps up from the desk and rushes toward the door, picking her gym bag up from the couch lining the wall. “I’ll call you later. Keep me in the loop on this one,” she continues, opening the door and stepping outside so fast that she crashes against a man standing there, his fist raised as he prepares to knock.
“Julia,” the man says, a grin on his lips.
“Mr. Piece of Shit,” she replies without even thinking, standing up straight as an expression of disgust takes over her face. There’s no love lost between Mr. Piece of Shit (or Ben as I know him, although the nickname fits) and Julia. In truth, though, Julia is just defending me.
You see, Ben Danvers was the man who broke my heart. Tall and handsome, he lured me with sweet words, took my virginity and then crushed my heart under his heel as if it was nothing. Not one week after I gave him the spare key to my apartment, I walked in on him and some random slut going at it on my own bed. The same bed where he took my virginity and whispered I love you into my ear.
Yeah, Ben’s a real classy act.
It doesn’t help that Ben travels in the same fucking circles as me.
That's right. I have to see this man at every cocktail party and gallery show that I go to.
The world of the Manhattan elite is pretty fucking small once you take out all the nouveau-riche posers who made their money playing basketball or making rap videos, sex videos, or getting on the cast of Jersey Shore. You take those people out and then subtract anyone that can’t hold a conversation and now you’re left with a small circle of folks that you see pretty much every weekend.
Everyone calls them the 1%.
I call them my friends and family. And Ben. Fucking Ben.
“Charming as always, Julia,” he grins, walking past her and casually sitting down on the chair facing my desk. “Nice seeing you again, Athena. You look even more beautiful than I --”
“Shut the fuck up, Ben,” I tell him right away, not even bothering to play nice with him. He’s lucky I haven’t kicked his balls up into his brain by now. “What the hell are you doing here?” Julia gives me a look that I can only translate as a Do you need backup? but I just shake my head slightly. With a nod, she turns on her heels and leaves my office, closing the door behind her.
“Maybe I decided to pay you a visit?” he replies, the tone I once found charming now making me feel sick to my stomach. Has it ever happened to you? When you find a man handsome and charming, and then you start seeing everything from another angle? Because that’s what happened to me. And now, instead of seeing him as charming, I only see him as sleazy.
My eyes are open now.
“If you came here because you want to be my client, you’re in the wrong place, Ben. You have to have a heart in order to find love,” I tell him, slowly standing up as I prepare to dismiss him.
“I’m not here for that,” he tells me smugly, enjoying the fact that he knows something that I don’t. I know you have an interesting client now.” I can’t help but react instinctively at that, blinking in surprise. “So, I’m not wrong, huh? Malcolm really is your client, isn’t he?”
“I don’t see what --”
“Calm down, Athena, don’t get pissy,” he says with an annoying wave of his hand, cutting me short. “I just want to make sure your company lives up to its promise. I want Malcolm to find love.”
To hear Ben say something like that is almost laughable; and, if I didn’t know how sleazy he is, I’d be laughing right now.
“My company always delivers, Ben, you should know that. But why the hell are you so interested in Malcolm?”
“That’s my business. But don’t think I’m just hoping for the best here,” he says, lowering his voice until it becomes a whisper. “It’s really important that Malcolm falls in love. Because if he doesn't …” he trails off, allowing his words to hang in the air to goad me in: he wants me to start asking questions, but I just remain silent, my eyes locked on his. “If Malcolm doesn’t fall in love...” he finally continues, narrowing his eyes into slits, “well, l
et’s just say I still have those tapes of you. Remember them? It’d be a shame if they went viral.”
Those tapes.
The fucking bastard taped me quite a few times, without me even knowing it; back when I broke up with him, he told me what he had done and he threatened me with them. Back then, I had nothing to lose and so I just shrugged it off. I guess he held on to these tapes so that he could use them as leverage when the time came.
And now here he is.
I’ve built an aura of intimacy and love into my company, and if these tapes ever leak … I don’t even want to think about it. People would tear my company and I apart. Nobody would want to have anything to do with a company that basically sells love when, in truth, its CEO is a slut whore nasty freaky wild woman in the bedroom who gets cheated on and never finds love. Yeah, that’s a marketing disaster waiting to happen.
“Fuck you, Ben. Just … fuck you,” I whisper, gritting my teeth and balling my hands into fists. I could choke him right now, swear to God.
“You can hate me as much as you want to, babe,” he says right back, that disgusting grin on his face, “just make sure that you do your job.” With a wink, he then turns around and leaves me alone inside my office.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, sinking back down into my chair. There’s no other way around it. That exclusive club of friends and family I have? Vacationing with the Kennedy’s and having mimosa’s with Melania Trump?
No way they’ll ever let me live down the shame of being caught on a series of sex tapes.
Malcolm must fall in love. Even if that means I have to be the one seducing him.