Page 21 of Unstitch

‘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.

15

DARCY

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