He gave me a dismayed grin and shook his head.

“Lots of my job is fun!” I said defensively.

“Yeah, mine too, but that’s different. You have to be there and it’s about someone else’s expectations. What do you do for you?”

“I play bridge.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffed. “What do you really do?”

“I don’t really like peopling in the real world. Too much small talk. I guess I go to play parties?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. What does a ‘play party’ entail?”

“With my friends? An anything goes free-for-all orgy.”

He coughed and glanced over at me as though he was trying to determine whether I was serious.

“Okay… I stand corrected,” he said. “You definitely have more fun than me. When are you bringing your new boyfriend to one?”

That word shouldn’t have given me butterflies. He was paying me for the privilege and it was just for show. It had just been so long since I’d been in a relationship with anyone.

“No Boy Scouts allowed. My friends would eat you alive.”

“Come on! Ophelia loves me. It can be a training exercise for the masquerade scene in Crown of Swords.”

I considered his request. It would let me show him things that I wasn’t going to demonstrate with him. There was such a difference between a pay-to-play scene and the hedonistic revelry that ensued when my coworkers let loose.

“You’re way too wholesome,” I eventually said.

He gave me a lopsided smile that was anything but wholesome.

Alex walked me to my door. I was a little worried he might try to kiss me. And far more worried that I might try to kiss him. The fake dating handbook also failed to mention what to do when the attraction was real.

Instead, he took my hand and brushed a chaste kiss over my knuckles. He bowed as he said, “My lady. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

Before I could fall asleep, I slid my hand down to find the pleasure I denied myself with Alex. I tried to think about anything else, refusing to be so pathetic as to fantasize about my famous fake boyfriend. But I kept returning to the feel of his hand under my skirt.

As the images of him played in my mind, his core sexual archetype finally clicked. I’d been missing it because I was overcomplicating it. He was a classic Alpha Dominant. All the little gestures I’d seen from him supported my conclusion…giving me his jacket when I was in the sun, rubbing my aching feet, being fully prepared to fight strangers he thought were talking shit about me. But it was more than the obvious actions. It was clear in the way he carried himself, effortlessly at ease, but aware of what was going on with everyone around him, constantly assessing, wildly perceptive.

If I’d been a dominant Amazon, it might not have been a good fit. We would’ve clashed and grappled for the upper hand. But as a submissive Amazon, an Alpha was one of the few archetypes who could hold his own against my constant desire to challenge him. At the end of the day I wanted him to have the upper hand. I just wanted him to work for it first.