Page 36 of Unstitch

‘Ooh,’ she says, staring at my phone. ‘Group shots. Hang on—Yes! Bingo.’

She passes the phone to me, and I swear there’s a flush on her face.

I roll my eyes. ‘Let’s see him, then.’ I look down and freeze, because the guy on my phone screen with his arm around a radiant Belle isn’t just attractive.

He’s a Greek fucking god.

I take in the triangle of olive skin at the open neck of his shirt, white tie undone and hanging loose. The dark hair raked carelessly back. The easy, sexy smile that shows off his white teeth. His eyes, which are—I have no fucking clue what colour they are, but they’re remarkable, that’s for sure, and they’re staring straight at me, and the way I would bend this guy over and fuck that smile right off his face is nothing short of?—

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ I manage, putting the phone reluctantly down between us on the island.

‘Right?’ Darcy asks. ‘He’s hot, isn’t he?’

I laugh mirthlessly. ‘He’s hot, all right.’ What a grotesquely inadequate term that is for such aesthetic splendour.

She cocks her head. ‘Is he—do you…?’

‘What is it you want to ask me, sweetheart?’

‘Do you like men, I guess?’

‘Yes.’ I watch her face and see only curiosity and, I think, pleasure.

‘Do you sleep with guys?’

‘Yes. Not as often as I fuck women, but yes.’

‘At Alchemy?’

‘Mainly, yeah.’

‘Huh.’

‘Why the huh?’ I ask her.

‘No reason—it’s just—the stuff my sister told me about you, it always sounded like the woman was the focal point in your, um, interactions with Anton.’

‘She was.’ I stride over to the fridge and yank the door open, pulling out the open bottle of white so I can refill us both. ‘I’ve never laid a finger on Anton.’

‘Do you find him attractive?’ she presses.

‘Obviously. It would be impossible not to find him so. He’s objectively an incredibly impressive physical specimen. But he’s far more interested in women, and anyway, we’re both tops. It would never have worked with him.’

‘Ahh,’ she says, like this is a revelation for her. ‘Of course you are. So if we—if I managed to convince Dex, somehow, would you be…?’

I laugh again, and once again there’s an edge to it, because this conversation and this guy’s photo have both got me hard, and there’s zero point in even entertaining the idea of anything with him. ‘Poor guy,’ I tell her. ‘Not only have you ensnared him in a threesome without him having any clue, but you’re also conspiring to have me royally fuck him, too. Unlikely.’

‘Oh.’ She deflates, her shoulders dropping, and slumps on her bar stool.

‘Did you get the impression that he likes men?’ I ask.

‘Not in the slightest,’ she says, and it’s my turn to slump. Inwardly, that is.

‘Listen, sweetheart,’ I say, filling her glass up, ‘if you can find a way to get this guy over the threshold of The Playroom and into a private room, then I’m game.’

‘Really?’ She brightens. ‘Because I asked him if he’d be up for coming to watch me dance, and he kind of looked like he wanted to run for the hills but also come in his pants.’

I throw my head back and laugh a genuine laugh. ‘Poor fucker. I bet he didn’t know what had hit him when he met you. But what man could say no to watching you dance?’

---