Billy didn't have to wait long before the women, who had spent their day shopping, enjoying the spa, and dining, arrived at his 150-square-meter duplex apartment. A chef, hired for three days to prepare the finest dishes, was already waiting. As it was dinnertime, he placed a menu on the table. At the same time, the oven finished baking a cheese and basil pizza alongside another topped with cheese, tomato, and pepperoni—twelve slices, perfect for indulging throughout the night. Later, they would head to a party aboard the yacht Castellá, Billy's birthday gift—a sleek, state-of-the-art, 40-meter vessel, one of the finest on the market. It was brand new, secured through Raimon, who pulled some strings to help the nephew of a bank that dealt in luxury yachts. Though Raimon paid $3 million, the purchase was signed under Monica's name. Billy had merely given his approval—this was simply how the world of the wealthy operated.
The three women—Winona, Sophie Marceau, and Monica—wore exhaustion on their faces after months of work. Each of them was starting to nod off.
-They have an excellent massage service, but their sauna is a total failure, - Sophie remarked.
-Tell that to the owner. -
Sophie laughed, Monica raised an eyebrow, and Winona chuckled as well. There was something oddly dry in her tone—almost sarcastic.
-The hotel belongs to Billy. He bought 40% of it alongside some businessman I can't recall, and sometimes he tells me to use all the services, rate everything, and point out any flaws. He completely relies on my critiques to make improvements. But since I'm demanding, he has a lot to work on. -
-It stops being funny when someone buys up every decent place around and never bothers to mention it, - Monica said.
-He's riche comme Crésus—but being so young, he must be full of energy, in business, in love, in bed... Does he have lovers? - Sophie asked, making Monica purse her lips and nod slightly. Sophie poured herself a glass of wine. Winona opened her mouth to say something, but Sophie handed her a glass as well—her usual way of silencing her. Winona took a sip.
-Honestly, it's just a suspicion, but I haven't found any proof. Maybe some of his co-stars, but it doesn't matter. Sometimes I think it's just my imagination. If he is, he hides it well. At the end of the day, I get the respect I deserve, - Monica said. - I think it's best if we forget about it. If we can set this aside, that would be ideal. -
Sophie nodded, sensing Monica's reluctance to dwell on the subject. Fear, perhaps? The unspoken desire to deny even the possibility, just to avoid getting hurt. A true contradiction.
-I want one of those shrimp pastas, - Winona said, steering the conversation in a new direction.
-Oh dear, we completely forgot to order food,- their hostess remarked.
She picked up the small menu as the chef—a man in his early forties, with a slight belly—stood there, utterly perplexed by his job that evening. Serving three stunning women while awaiting their verdict, which would determine his pay grade for the day.
He moved swiftly, arranging his tools to ensure the best possible results.
…
The women didn't rush to get ready. Instead, they gathered for a small pre-party, listening to music, unwinding, and dancing while sipping wine. By 11 p.m., Billy stepped into the apartment in his usual business attire—a tailored navy-blue two-piece suit, a red tie, polished brown leather shoes, and his hair neatly combed.
As he entered, he saw Monica, her cheeks flushed. She looked radiant, exuding a certain magnetic charm. The moment he closed the door, she approached him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and pressed a deep, warm kiss to his lips, which he eagerly returned.
-My love, the chef left a light pasta salad. You should eat something light before bed, - Monica said, her voice dripping with warmth. She clung to him, running her fingers through his hair, kissing him every few moments.
-Let me introduce you to Sophie, - Monica said.
She led him to Sophie Marceau, who looked utterly captivating—her dress barely grazing mid-thigh, her hair damp with sweat. She was, by all definitions, a sex symbol. Monica smirked playfully before greeting Sophie with a kiss on the lips. Sophie then kissed Billy on the cheek, while Winona, suddenly flustered, simply extended a trembling hand and muttered a shy "Hello."
-Now, eat something, my love. In an hour, you won't be able to leave my side, - Monica teased, leading him to the kitchen.
She reheated the pasta in a pan and quickly prepared a fresh lemonade. Her black dress, hugging her curves, paired with a crisp white apron, made for a stunning contrast.
-Then I suppose the best thing would be for you to stick to me day and night. The farthest we should be from each other is the length of your outstretched arms, - Billy quipped.
His deep black eyes caught the light, revealing a mesmerizing gleam—an unforgettable, almost incandescent intensity. The flickering glow in them resembled tiny dancing flames.
-Come, eat. I'd offer you some wine, but we already drank it all, - Monica laughed.
The only drinks left were the strong ones—whiskey, tequila—or maybe a beer. Not that it mattered.
-It's delicious, don't you think? - Monica said as she perched on his lap, feeding him bite after bite.
Billy's half-lidded eyes observed her. She was more affectionate than usual, constantly kissing him, spooning food into his mouth, utterly devoted.
-How was your day? - Billy asked.
Monica simply nestled against his shoulder, pressing kisses to his neck. Like a playful kitten, she nibbled at his arm before drawing herself closer, with that delicate, practiced gesture that nearly made time stand still.
…
They planned to have an intimate birthday celebration on the yacht before flying to Italy the next night to celebrate with family. But it wasn't long before a few extra guests arrived—Uma Thurman, hand in hand with her friend Mira Sorvino, and Katherine Keener.
-Damn, that's a fine yacht, - Katherine Keener remarked.
-What does a girl have to do for a man to get her one of these?- Uma mused, swaying her hips effortlessly. - Not even my husband got me something like this. -
-I suppose that's beside the point. The real charm is that he planned all this for your birthday above everything else, - Winona said.