3. Chapter Three

My life has not been a fairytale. Not today, not ever. Well, not unless you compare it to that one story where the girl was locked away in the castle, waiting for her prince to come rescue her.

The only difference is I wasn't locked away. I chose to stay away because nothing about the outside world appealed to me. And I wasn't exactly waiting for my prince to come save me, though someone disguised as a prince did show up. Things were good for a short time. Then I realized I was tricked. He wasn't a prince at all. He was a troll. Or an ogre. Or whatever other terrible creatures live in those perfect little stories. Hell, he was a mix of them all.

Zachary Canvani is great on the outside. Perfect hair. Bright smile. Charismatic, charming, educated. He comes from a wealthy family, one of which my father is fond of, if his disappointment in my abrupt break-up says anything.

Though, my father's feelings aren't only about not having Zachary as a son-in-law anymore, but also because grandchildren are no longer on the table. At least, not within the foreseeable future, considering the next time I agree to marry someone, I'll spend more than a few months getting to know them. I'm not one to make the same mistake twice. At least, I try not to.

My father and I have always been close, but since this break-up with Zach, he's been different. Distant. Extremely irritable. He goes from not seeing me for days to watching my every move.

I'd thought for sure he would catch wind of where I was going and be furious. Maybe even stop me. His moods have been all over the place. It's hard to know what I'll get each day. Surprisingly, he was thrilled I wanted to go out on a Saturday night and didn't ask questions, even though it was something I've never done before.

Of course, that was the me before Zachary. I'm a new me now. One who has learned. I never thought I was a na?ve person, but I guess I am. At least, I was. I won't ever be that girl again.

Which is why I'm here. And why I'm going to have an amazing night with a random guy I'll never see again. I'm a single young woman. I can do whatever the hell I want, when I want. For once, I'm going to enjoy my life, because if my future being shattered right in front of my face taught me anything, it's that I haven't had enough fun. At least I have the decency and respect to do it while single and not while engaged.

The same can't be said about Zach. Being in a relationship didn't stop him from doing what and who he wanted.

Seems I was the only person in love in our relationship, considering there was a video of him railing some girl named Priscilla in his penthouse. How sweet of him to bring her there, when I, myself, had only been there once. It was also sweet of him to call out her name as he came all over her face for the entire world.

I'm grateful I found out, but it hurts.

I'd changed a lot of things for him and planned an entire future.

He said he didn't like the fact I still lived with my father. How could I take care of him if I couldn't take care of myself? I moved out and got my own apartment to prove I could. Sure, my father helped, but still. It satisfied Zachary enough. Though, that may be because he didn't know I was spending most of my time at my father's anyway. Probably because he was too busy with Priscilla. At the time, I was eager to do what my future husband wanted. To prove I could be a good wife. Looking back? I'm embarrassed over how desperate I was.

My father has been asking about grandbabies for years, and I was so happy to give that to him. Now, thanks to Zach, I have to look at the disappointment on my father's face every day because I gave up that stupid apartment and moved back in with my father. The only man I can trust, it seems.

"Miss?" I shake out of my thoughts, my surroundings coming back into view. In front of me is a handsome man, dressed in barely nothing. His body is perfectly toned, free of any hair, and with the kind of tan you're born with and can't get. "Would you like some champagne?" He moves the tray closer to me a few inches, his brow raising. They're shaped, dark, and not too bushy. His lips are full and pink. Teeth straight and white. He's basically a cookie-cutter hot guy.

"That would be great." I take one. "Where can I get something stronger, though?"

"Tell me what you'd like, and I'll have it brought over to you."

"Vodka on the rocks, please."

"Certainly."

I sip the champagne as I look around, deciding where I want to sit. By the size of the crowd, it seems I'd spaced out longer than I thought. I swear there were only half these people here when I'd looked around last time.

Thankfully, no one seems to notice I was lost in space. I have no idea what to do at something like this. I've never even been to a regular club, never mind one like this.

There are quite a few men standing in the shadows, looking around and sipping from glasses. The women are mostly gathered in small groups, laughing, having fun, and preparing for a great night.

It's not that I'm not having a good time, I just need more alcohol to calm my nerves before I mingle.

I can't focus. My excitement and nerves are working together to create a dizzying mix of adrenaline.

This is supposed to be fun. An experience. It's hard to get into one of these things. Their application and screening process is insane. I was sure I wouldn't make it, so when I got the invitation, I'd stared at it for twenty minutes straight, sure it was a joke. I'd told myself I absolutely couldn't go through with it. Yet, here I am.

I take a seat in a lounge chair along the wall of the main room and watch other people interact while I wait for my drink.

The club is elegant, expensive, and stylish. Everything I'd expect it to be, considering what we are here for. Rich men paying for a night with a random woman. The money goes to charity, but it's still a requirement. This is by far the craziest thing I've ever done and will stay at the tippity-top of that list because I can't handle going through this again.

My nerves are overloaded, and if I make it through the night without fainting, I'll consider it a win. Even if the sex is bad.

I just hope it isn't.

Please make this night worth the anxiety and all the effort I put into it.

I even went shopping for a new dress and I hate shopping. I know, not normal, right? What woman hates shopping? Me. That's who.

"Vodka on the rocks." I glance up to see the cute waiter.

"Thank you." I take the glass with a smile.

"Please let me know if there is anything else you need." He winks and walks away.

I bring the glass to my lips and take a small sip as I watch him go. He ends up back at the bar to grab a tray full of champagne flutes and makes his way through to the crowd. He spots me staring as he goes, and I don't pull my gaze away. I bring the glass to my lips and take another sip. He smirks and looks away.

Well, if nothing works out with the man I get paired up with tonight, at least there's a cute waiter with a hot body who seems interested. I wonder if they make out at these things too? They must. I mean, look at them. Though, it's hard to decide which I like more—the half-naked models or the powerful men in expensive suits.

I sip my vodka as I people-watch. Pristine suits and shimmering dresses adorn everyone in the room. Hair and nails are perfectly done. Heels high and shoes shiny. Watches and cuff links that cost more than some people's houses. They're definitely above my status, or at least seem that way. My father is a wealthy man and we've always lived comfortably, but not this level of comfort. If I were a man, I'm not sure I'd have the entry fee to come to a place like this. Thankfully, the women don't have to pay a dime. And that has nothing to do with why I'm here. Even if the man I end up with tonight is a trillionaire, I don't ever want to see him again. This is about experience—not money.

Not running into someone I know—or my father knows—is imperative. It was the main thing stopping me from accepting when I first got my invitation. But as I thought it over, I realized my father doesn't associate with people who do things like this. My father may run clubs, but not clubs like this. Nothing like this.

Once my drink is halfway gone, there's a warmth lingering in my belly and a persistent smile on my face as I await the start of the party. A glance at the clock on the wall tells me there's about fifteen minutes until it starts. Deciding I'll need another drink before that happens, I quickly finish mine and stand to get another.

I take one step and freeze. I shouldn't stare, but I can't help it. The ice clinks in the glass as my hand trembles. My eyes stay glued to a man I would recognize from a mile away. A man who absolutely cannot see me here. One who would call my father the instant he saw me.

If I'm caught, my father will be so upset. Even more disappointed in me than he already is.

Maybe that isn't him, Jordan. All those rich men look the same.

Only they don't.

Vincenzo Bramante has this air about him, like he's locked in a bubble of power and masculinity, and embraces it to its fullest potential. The way he stands perfectly straight, his chin held high, face blank. He gives indifference an entirely new meaning. Sexy.

It shouldn't be, but it is.

He shouldn't be.

But he is.

A mix of fear and excitement washes over me, and I blame the latter on the alcohol. Excited over seeing Vincenzo here? I've lost my damn mind. But the man is gorgeous.

Many people cower in the presence of Vincenzo Bramante. I've seen it with my own two eyes. I've felt the power radiating from him but have never had a reason to be afraid of him, and never quite understood why others are. That power he holds onto? It doesn't scare me. It makes me want it. The confidence he walks around with? I envy it. Envy the type of women he goes after. The ones who don't hide away in their father's homes and swoon at the first man who shows them interest. They don't jump when a man tells them too, and they certainly don't try to make their life a fairytale because it's sweet and nostalgic.

A man like Vincenzo doesn"t want sweet. He doesn"t do sweet.

So maybe I'm not afraid of Vincenzo, but I am afraid of him telling my father and ruining my night. He is, after all, my father's best friend.

He hasn't been around in a while, but there is no doubt in my mind he still has Dad on speed dial. They've been friends for years. Of course he'd run to my father and tell him his sweet, precious little naive girl is at an adult club doing things she shouldn't be.

Even though I am an adult and can do whatever I want.

I came here for anonymity, to avoid anyone I would know.

Why is it my luck that I make it here with no problems, only to run into him?

Panic floods my chest, and I look around for somewhere to run to. I can't let him see me. I don't want to leave. If I can just find somewhere to hide until the party starts, he won't be able to stop me fr—oof!

"Oh, Christ. I'm so sorry."

I glance over my shoulder at the man I bumped into. The one who almost took me out with his large, statue-like body. My gaze moves from his bright green eyes down to his large hands that are resting on my bare arms, holding me upright.

"No, I'm sorry," I croak, looking back at his face. "It was my fault."

"I should have been watching where I was going," he says with a smile.

"I was the one walking backwards."

A few strands of his dirty blond hair fall over his dark eyebrow and he brushes them away. It's styled messily, but somehow fits with his navy blue Armani suit that's perfectly tailored to his large frame. His piercing green eyes hold a kindness, but the smirk on his lips is nothing less than flirty.

"Are you okay?" he questions, narrowing his eyes.

"Just nervous," I admit.

Good. The alcohol is working because I'm being too honest.

"Can I get you another one of those?" He points to my glass. "As an apology, of course."

"Uh, sure."

"Vodka?"

"Good guess."

"I figured if it were tequila, your clothes would be off by now." He winks and heads to the bar.

Okay, he's hot, funny, and rich. Three things I can check off on my future husband list.

No. No future husband list. I'm not here to look for a future husband. I'm here for one night.

One night. Experience. Not money, not a husband, not a future.

I groan as I take another look around, needing to keep eyes on Vincenzo. If I can keep track of where he is all night, I can avoid him. That is until they call people up on stage. I can only hope he's one of the first men up there while I'm one of the last woman to be picked. Leaving isn't an option. It took a lot for me to get here, and I'm going to stay.

Currently, he's chatting up a blond girl on the other end of the room. She's looking up at him with little hearts in her eyes while he stares down at her with boredom. Poor thing doesn't seem to realize he has no interest.

What is he doing here, anyway? Enzo can get any woman he wants, whenever he wants.

He may be my father's friend, much older than me, and completely off limits, but I have eyes. Enzo is a catch. He's hot, rich, and charming as hell. And maybe I've had a crush on him since I was a little girl. Something I wouldn't in a million years admit out loud.

"One vodka on the rocks for the most gorgeous girl in the room."

I smile as I take the drink. His joke was cheesy, but I think he did that on purpose.

I take a chance and give Enzo my back. At least if he looks over here, he won't recognize me. There are a bunch of dark-haired girls in the room. There's no way he'd recognize me from the back of my head.

The clock says there are only five minutes left. I shouldn't have to worry about him for much longer. Hopefully within the next hour I'll be locked away in a room with a stranger, having lots and lots of orgasms.

"So, what is your name?" Green-Eyes asks.

"Jordan."

"It's nice to meet you, Jordan. I'm Rafael."

"Like the turtle?" I smirk and take another sip.

"I don't get that joke nearly as much as I expect to."

I open my mouth to tell him it's probably a good thing, because it's a terrible joke, but someone's voice comes over the speaker, so we both turn toward the stage.

"Hello, everyone. Can I have your attention, please?" There's an attractive older man up on stage speaking. Everyone settles down and gives him their attention. He smiles brightly, then continues talking. "Welcome, everyone, to the first Wicked Temptation Key Party. We are glad you all have decided to join us tonight for what we hope will turn into an annual event. I'm Damien and your MC for the night. A few housekeeping issues to get out of the way before we get to the real reason you're all here. Everyone here was medically checked for any transmittable diseases and pregnancy. While we've been given the all-clear, I still want to mention there are condoms in the bag you will be given once your key number is called. Using them or not is on you. Next, you all signed a waiver and an NDA to attend tonight; so as the old saying goes, what happens here stays here. Lastly, in the same bag with the contraceptives, there will be some fun little toys you're welcome to keep, and a list of your partner's hard and soft limits. These limits are to be respected at all costs. Security is posted around the inside of the club, so if there are any issues, please reach out and it will be handled immediately. Tonight is supposed to be fun, not some shit you'd see in a bad porno. Okay, so without further ado, let's get me off the stage and see who's playing with whom tonight, shall we?" A few people clap and whoop. "Men who are picking keys, please line up. When I call your name, please step onto the stage. You'll draw a key card, and I will announce the name and number of who you drew. The rest is all up to you guys. Have fun and be safe!"

Well, I guess that's that.

"Show time," Rafael whispers before disappearing into the crowd.

I watch as he goes, wondering if I'll be so lucky to get paired with a guy as nice as him.