14. Darcy

Max is a smiling assassin.

I know better than to underestimate him.

The whole jocular Brunch Daddy vibe he has going on is hot—more than hot—but it's a persona. I know for sure that if he got a woman to himself, that smirk would vanish, and he'd be intense as fuck. It's there, that energy, thrumming right below the surface. I can feel it, and most likely it's the true source of my attraction to him.

Still, twenty grand for a dance feels indecent, even for a guy like that. Aggressive, somehow? The way he threw it out there was so cavalier, but that doesn't mean I should treat it the same way. Paying out that kind of money for a dance may be normal behaviour for him, but accepting it definitely isn't normal for me. I can't make head nor tail of it, if I'm honest, even if I've spent half the night turning it over in my head.

Nor can I ask my sister for advice. I wouldn't dare share such an indecent proposal with her, even if she wasn't currently pootling around the Greek islands on her brand new husband's yacht.

There's only one person I can ask.

Maddy.

I message her before she's even got into work to beg for a quick meeting.

I had an indecent proposal last night and I'm not sure what to do about it. Fancy talking some sense into me? x

Telling Maddy you need advice on a weird sexy-ish proposal is probably worse than waving a big red cloak in front of a starving bull. Judging by the capitals and exclamation marks in her flurry of replies, she could not be keener to meet. So I drag myself out of bed, shower, and put on my workout gear before taking the tube a few stops to Green Park, the nearest tube station to Alchemy.

Maddy meets me at Pret, where we brave the throng to grab a coffee and a granola pot each before escaping into the park. It's a lovely morning, and London's self-appointed "green" park is showing the signs of this heatwave we're having. The trees are verdant but the lawns are getting scorched.

We give the scratchy grass a wide berth and sit down on a bench, because, even if I'm in Lululemon, she's in a seriously cute and seriously high-maintenance pink and white dress with straps that tie on the shoulders with huge bows. She looks like a doll. A very innocent doll. I bet Zach goes crazy for it.

‘So, you can't just drop a text bomb about an indecent proposal and leave me hanging,' she complains, popping the lid on her granola pot. ‘Shoot, motherfucker.'

‘It's from Max,' I say with a pointed sideways look at her that's meant to communicate need I say more?

She widens her eyes, spoon frozen in front of her mouth. ‘Max? God, he's such a dirty bastard. I love it. Go on.'

‘He wants me to go to his place this evening. He's offered me twenty grand to dance practically naked for him in private.'

Maddy's a gratifying audience. She shoves her spoon straight back into her yoghurt and granola and sits up straight. ‘You are shitting me.'

‘Nope.' I take the opportunity for a quick mouthful of compote and yoghurt. Yummy.

‘A "naked private dance".' She says it like we both know exactly what it's an innuendo for.

‘Exactly.'

She smirks. ‘Fuck, that's hot.'

I laugh. I wasn't expecting that—more a how dare he? or a go for it. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You know.' She narrows her eyes at me and flicks her perfectly blow-dried hair over her bare shoulder. ‘Like, he's throwing his money around because he wants you so badly. It's seriously fucking hot on so many levels.'

‘Yeah,' I say, because it really is, and it makes me feel better that Maddy thinks so, too. ‘Doesn't make it okay, though.'

She cocks her head as she considers. ‘Do you think he's doing it because it's the only way he'll get you to agree? Or is it, like, a kinky power play? He's doing it because he gets off on paying women to do that kind of thing. Because if you wouldn't do it for free, then don't feel you have to do it for the money. You're not hard up, are you? But if you're attracted to him, then seriously, babes, take it and run.'

I frown. ‘I dunno. A bit of both, maybe? I mean, I definitely find him majorly attractive. He's such a…'

‘Daddy,' Maddy finishes with a decisive nod. ‘Yep. Totally. And overtly filthy, you know what I mean?'

She's not wrong there. ‘So the thought of dancing for him definitely doesn't give me the ick.' Quite the opposite. ‘The chemistry between us is crazy—I told you we danced at the wedding, right?'

‘Right,' she says. ‘So why haven't you two fucked yet?'

‘Something's been holding me back,' I admit. ‘It didn't feel right to hook up in France—I wanted to be there for Gen. But I suppose I like the chase. He's the kind of guy who'd be all over you till he got what he wanted, and then you'd never see him again.'

‘Totally.' Maddy digs through her little pot to get to the compote at the bottom. ‘But that's not a problem for you, is it?'

‘God, no. He and I are probably quite similar in that respect. I suppose I'm just holding him off because it's fun, right? He's a cocky shit, so it's entertaining to be the thing he can't have.'

‘Hence the five-figure sweetener,' she says, pointing her spoon at me.

I grimace. ‘Exactly.'

‘I'm assuming "private dance" is code for "fuck"?' She wiggles her eyebrows at me saucily.

‘That's the thing,' I say, folding one leg under me. ‘I asked just that and he categorically said it was a dance only. He said he'd pay me to dance, and if I wanted to fuck him after then even better, but he wasn't going to pay me to fuck him.'

‘Hmm.' She deflates slightly. ‘Interesting. So he's not doing it for "hooker kink" reasons. I think what you have here is a win-win, babes. I mean, come on. A hot guy you've been lusting after throws cash at you to dance for him, so you can really go for it, and then he can seduce you, or you can seduce him. Whatever.

‘And he's super powerful now, which is even hotter. He's basically Baby Daddy Anton now that he's CEO. You know they're gearing up for an IPO? It's going to be the biggest IPO in Europe in, like, years. And apparently when he stepped up, he negotiated a fuck-tonne of pre-IPO stock, so when Wolff Holdings floats, he'll be worth mega-bucks. Not that he isn't already. There'll be lots of lock-ins, obviously. He won't be able to liquidate it for years, but still. It'll be raining cash over there.'

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. ‘And you know this much about the whole thing because…?'

She sighs. ‘Zach's talked about it. A lot. He's really excited about it.'

‘That makes one of us,' I say.

‘Right? Poor little nerd. But he's so fucking cute I don't mind at all. And it means you shouldn't feel guilty about taking Max's money. Now Anton's married and retired, Max is the catch.'

‘Seriously?' That surprises me, for some reason. I know he's insanely sexy and, from the sounds of it, about to be insanely wealthy, but still. I hadn't thought about him having much of a profile.

She leans forward. ‘Are you kidding me? Tatler just did a spread on him—he topped their list of non-aristocratic eligible bachelors in the UK. The women at Alchemy go crazy for him, and not just because he has a big dick and knows how to use it. Actually, it's probably great for him to have Alchemy. It means he doesn't have to go out and about looking for his next fuck. It's all on tap for him.'

I'd really, really like to ask her what else she knows about the size and skill level of Max's dick, but I have a more pressing, if less fun, question.

‘About the money. I honestly don't know. It feels really immoral.'

‘Are you morally opposed to sex for money?' she bats back.

‘No… I don't think so. No, I'm not. In real life I'm fine with it, and in fantasy life I'm all over it like a rash.'

She nods sagely. ‘Same. I nagged Zach for so long to buy me at Slave Night. We weren't even together then. And he did, and it was the hottest night of my life.' She smiles fondly.

‘I kind of love that I've fallen into this family of people who reminisce about Slave Night like most people would reminisce about their first dinner date together,' I say, and she howls with laughter.

‘Right?! God, I love it. But why are you having issues with the money? I've been with Spreadsheet long enough to know that if you both have something the other wants, then you have a market. So what's the problem?'

I sigh. I can't articulate what the problem is, even to myself. I can't deny the money would come in handy. I'm in this weird position where I have a lovely quality of life, thanks to the dancing gig and Gen's amazing pad, but I'm not contributing much.

Even if she doesn't need the money, I'd rather pay her something. She could always give it to charity, or something. I may be a free spirit, but I'm not a freeloader. I've basically spent the past few years dancing, surfing, drinking, and living like a bum on a low budget. It would be nice if London was a fresh start. A chance to show I'm not the baby of the family anymore—I don't expect a permanent free ride.

So, obviously, twenty grand would come in handy. More than handy. It would last months. But I'd like to earn it, and doing one sexy, naked dance doesn't feel like the right exchange for twenty thousand crisp British pounds. It's too easy, and yet it's hard. It's morally questionable (something I have no problem with), and it's loaded with… what? Expectations?

‘It feels weird,' is the only explanation I can come up with, which is lame as fuck, but Maddy seems to know what I mean.

‘If you think about it,' she muses, mushing her granola and yoghurt and compote together into a big pinkish mess, ‘twenty grand's not that much money. I mean, he's loaded. It's not like he offered you a million quid to have sex with him. Twenty grand for a dance is a bit stingy, if you ask me.'

She grins at me. I take her in, a vision in her pink and white sundress, her beautiful diamond solitaire glinting in the sunlight of this early July morning as she does disgusting things to her granola pot. I know exactly what she's doing. She's being deliberately flippant, underplaying the whole proposal so I stop overthinking it.

‘That's pretty obnoxious,' I say. ‘Twenty grand is more than what people on minimum wage earn in an entire year. God.' I drop my head and rub my free hand over my face. ‘That makes me feel even more shitty. Some people earn that in a whole year of being a hospital porter, or a street sweeper, or whatever else godawful jobs pay minimum wage, and I'd get it for one dance. It gives me the ick.'

‘I totally agree, it's utterly shit. Life's not fair. But skills have a value. Look at footballers—it's outrageous what they earn, but it makes financial sense for their club. Because their skills have value. You're a beautiful dancer. Truly. And a hot, powerful man is so smitten with you that he'll pay five figures to get you all to himself for one dance. So, for God's sake, don't feel bad about it. Take his money and give him what he wants.'

I'm not sure about Maddy's logic. I'm not sure about any of it, and I suspect I called her precisely because I knew she'd enable me. Which probably means I"ve subconsciously wanted to say yes to Max's proposal since the moment he made it.