The Italian Billionaire's Escort

Ricardo Weiss was at the mansion of his best friend and client, Gianluca Dimartino, CEO of an international corporation well positioned in the food industry. Standing next to him was Raphael Dimartino, Gianluca's older brother. Although they had promised to watch the soccer match together, the CEO had to leave to solve some problems at the company and would join them later.

At the end of the first half of the game, Raphael, with Ricardo's help, began planning a strange surprise for his brother, who couldn't say a word to carry out the first part of their plan.

"Are we really going to do this?" Ricardo exclaimed, feeling uncomfortable.

"Of course, why not?" Raphael affirmed, as usual without taking his eyes of the laptop screen.

"He's going to kill us," Ricardo said between laughs before taking a sip of his beer.

"I don't think he'll go that far." Raphael smiled without being very sure.

"We're talking about paying for an... escort," Ricardo insisted, feeling they were crossing the line.

"Well, yes, but even my brother deserves to have a good time, don't you think?" Raphael continued, laughing.

"You know Gian isn't like that. We will pay this woman for nothing."

"Maybe he won't sleep with her, or maybe he will; he's been too closed off for too long and who knows how he might react."

"How long has it been since he went out with someone?" Ricardo asked, guessing the answer. "Even if it's just for a drink. How much time has passed?"

Raphael's smile faded as he thought about it.

"Well, a long time," he sighed regretfully. "But it's his choice; he still feels he has to respect what he had with Beatrice. Do you think we're putting pressure on him?"

"I'm not saying we're forcing him," Ricardo replied. "I just think he needs a little push. Besides, it will be fun to see his reaction when he finds out."

Raphael hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded.

"Look, if he doesn't sleep with her, at least he'll spend some time chatting and drinking with someone other than us or some idiot shareholder."

"Maybe he'll be encouraged to get out more," Raphael thought aloud, although deep down he wasn't very convinced.

Ricardo sighed and hoped that Gianluca wouldn't be offended by their "gift".

"How much will it cost us?" he asked.

Raphael, scrolling through an "escort" website, replied:

"That depends on the girl we hire. What do you think of this one's description?"

The first profile photo was of an elegant girl with a seductive demeanor. She had generous curves and a deep, captivating gaze with a touch of innocence that was unusual for women in her profession.

"Do you know how strange I feel looking at that?" Ricardo blurted out, embarrassed.

"I'm not asking you to fall in love, just to give your opinion," Raphael said, resigned to his friend's discomfort.

"Gian doesn't usually go for shallow women who still look like they're in high school."

"Remind me to delete the browsing history or Cristina will kill me," Raphael laughed nervously. "What do you think?" he asked after reviewing more photos.

The "model" appeared in underwear, which made it clear that she had well-proportioned curves, but without being exaggerated.

"Mm... She could work," Ricardo mused. "She's not a plastic gym girl."

"She likes to dress well, so with the right outfit she could pass as a business woman," Raphael added. "If she's smart and makes good conversation..."

"It says she's interested in the arts: literature, cinema, music..." Ricardo said, reading the profile information. "If that's not a lie, at least she has something in common with Gian."

"Good heavens!" they both said at once when they saw the hourly rate.

"That's the way it is if we want VIP service," Ricardo said resignedly.

"Well," Ricardo murmured a little more convinced, "but never again, okay?"

"Don't worry, I don't think we can do it again. Gian will kill us if he finds out," he laughed and received a reproachful look from his friend.

"Well, call her and see what she says," Ricardo suggested. "It remains to be seen if the girl will go along with the plan."

Raphael dialed the number that appeared on the screen. Mildred answered promptly. After the usual greetings, Raphael explained what he needed and what he was looking for.

"The idea is that he doesn't know anything," he informed. "I know it's a bit of an embarrassing request," he continued after the answer from the other end, "but Gianluca hasn't been a very sociable man for some time now, and we don't know what to do to make him stop mourning, to put it bluntly, and I mean that literally." He listened to the answer and continued. "Really?!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Sure. We'll talk to him, give him the time and place, and see what he says. As soon as we know, I'll let you know. Thank you very much." He hung up.

"What did she say?" Ricardo asked with his usual curiosity.

"She asked for a photo," Raphael reported as he sent Gianluca's picture to Mildred. "If she likes it, she'll accept it."

"I think..." Ricardo thought regretfully, "and I'm sure I'm not wrong, that she accepted because of what you told her about his grief."

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Raphael murmured, sending a message to Gianluca: "I have a client interested in investing in the new project. He wants you to meet with a legal representative of his company to discuss the business proposal. Are you in?"

With some back and forth messages, everything was finally set; the day, time and place had already been agreed upon.

The two friends looked at each other with complicity and a sense of regret born of memory and guilt for resorting to such an unconventional plan to help, or so they hoped, a man who deserved to return to a life with fewer shadows.

***

Mildred, settled in the armchair of her apartment, looked again at the photograph she had received. The afternoon light filtered through the window, bathing the room in golden tones and accentuating the elegance of the place.

"He's attractive..." she said to herself before returning to reality when another call came to her phone.

The conversation was brief; the client was already a regular and the terms of the appointment were always the same.

Before getting ready for work, without thinking or being able to avoid it, she looked at the photo of the man with the sad story and the meddling friends again.

"A change of routine is always interesting," she thought. She smiled cheerfully, impatient to meet the mysterious Gianluca Dimartino. She rose from the chair with feline grace and went to the bedroom to choose the perfect outfit for the occasion.

MILDRED:

I've arrived at the hotel where I'm supposed to meet my "client". According to Raphael, the spokesman, Gianluca will be waiting at the bar, thinking he has a business meeting.

"With friends like that, who needs enemies?" I think, unable to suppress a smile.

Gianluca is a businessman, the CEO of a food company with an international presence, so his friends have used the old trick of "there is an interested investor..." and I will pretend to be a businesswoman. Today I will be the legal representative of the shareholders of a fictitious company.

I take a close look at the place and spot the "client". He is at the window, lost in his own world, with his elbow on the table and his head resting in his hand, watching the people coming and going on the street.

The hotel bar is elegant and cozy, with dim lighting that creates an intimate atmosphere. The soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses mix with the background music to create a relaxing melody.

I can't help but think that he is a pleasant man to look at, no doubt because of his kind blue eyes that contemplate his surroundings. And his expression, serene on a face with fine features, gives him an enigmatic appearance. Although, when I look closer, I notice that there is a sad and distant glow.

"What could he be thinking with that face?"

I approach the table with a confident stride and a sensual touch, because it's something that comes with my professional training; it also helps to feel that way when I'm wearing an elegant dress and expensive accessories, along with a good physique that I take care of every day. I wouldn't have a job if I didn't pay attention to every detail.

The white dress I'm wearing hugs my figure, accentuating my pronounced cleavage and leaving my toned legs exposed. The high heels echo on the marble floor with every step I take, attracting admiring glances as I pass.

"Gianluca Dimartino?" I ask, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He fixes the two seas made into irises that he has for eyes on me, and I can't help but think that this man, up close and in person, is something more than a pretty face. He's a middle-aged man who, if it weren't for a few gray hairs at his temples, wouldn't show his age at all. His beard is shaved to perfection and his entire appearance, even the lotion he wears, is impeccable to the point of overflowing with elegance.

His gaze seems to penetrate the depths of my being, as if he could read my thoughts and discover my secrets. For a moment, I feel as if the world around us fades away and it's just him and me, connected by an invisible force.

"Uh, yeah, that's me." He stands, showing a subtle shyness that I find charming. "Nice to meet you," he says in a sweet voice, extending his hand to me.

"It's a real pleasure," I reply, accepting the gesture with confidence and giving him my typical seductive smile.

We stare at each other for a few moments and I can't help but feel a strange connection with this man, something I've never experienced with a client before. I shake my head slightly, trying to come back to reality.

"Pl-please, si-sit down," he invites me, somewhat uncomfortably, gesturing with his hand to the chair opposite.

"Thank you." I sit in front of him as he sits down again.

"Mildred Gil, right?"

"That's right," I confirm, still smiling at him.

"Well, if you wish..."

"Please, speak to me in a friendly way; so much formality makes me uncomfortable," I joke with elegance, laughing subtly.

"Of course. Well, what kind of investment does the company you represent want to make?" he asks, wanting to get to the point.

But before I can answer, a woman approaches our table. She is tall, slender and very attractive, with blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. She looks at me curiously and then turns to Gianluca.

"Gianluca, darling, what a surprise to find you here!" she exclaims in a honeyed voice with a strong Italian accent, completely ignoring me.

He seems surprised and a little uncomfortable by the woman's presence. He gets up from his chair and kisses her on the cheek, more out of courtesy than pleasure.

"Hello, Francesca. I didn't expect to see you here," he replies with a forced smile.

"Oh, you know, when I'm not at the company, I'm out looking for a good deal," she says, winking at him. "Aren't you going to introduce me to this ragazza?"

Gianluca looks at me with an apologetic expression and starts the introduction.

"Francesca, this is Mildred. Mildred, this is Francesca Bellucci, the manager of my company's Italian branch."

"Pleased to meet you," I say, extending my hand with a polite smile.

Francesca looks me up and down, evaluating me with her eyes. She finally shakes my hand reluctantly.

"Likewise," she replies coldly.

There was an awkward silence that Francesca broke by turning back to Gianluca.

"Well, darling, I won't keep you any longer. I see you're busy," she says in a sarcastic tone. "Call me when you have time to... discuss the new project; I'd like to meet with you privately. Ciao."

And with those words she walks away, swaying her hips, not before giving me a look of contempt. Gianluca sighs and turns to me with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, Mildred. Francesca can be a little intense sometimes."

"Don't worry," I reply with an understanding smile. "We all have difficult acquaintances in our lives."

Gianluca smiles, grateful for my understanding, and we pick up where we left off.

"So, how about a drink before we talk business? That way we can get over the awkwardness Francesca left behind." I laugh subtly and stare at him intently. "It's the least we can do right now."

"That's not necessary, really-"

But I give him no choice but to accept; I've already called the waiter and ordered some drinks.

MILDRED

In the end, we both end up with glasses of an expensive red wine that I hope he likes.

"Mm... It's really good," he exclaims, pleasantly surprised.

"It's one of my favorites," I reply, though I'm genuinely glad I guessed right.

"Can we continue with...?"

"As you wish, but there's no need to rush."

"Well, my business associate Raphael said you only have an hour free, so I thought..."

"That's true, but I hate rushing. I like to take my time with everything," I continue in a fiery tone and give him an intense look.

Gianluca's expression has changed. He smiles resignedly and sighs.

"You haven't come to discuss the terms of investment in the company's new project, have you?"

"Of course..."

"Forget it, there's no need to lie anymore," he insists, looking at me patiently.

Suddenly, a burly, disheveled-looking man approaches our table with a firm step. I recognize him immediately: