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It’s been a hard fucking year. I lost my arranged fiancée to my own brother, which wasn’t great, although I did end up getting the better end of that bargain when he gave me his Las Vegas sports gambling operation as compensation. I’m a lot richer now, which is nice, and it turns out that I actually enjoy managing the business, which is just a bonus. But the war against the Irish and the Russians has been heating up, despite the Rinaldo Famiglia joining the fight on our side, and I find myself needing to unwind.
War is stressful. We’re skating under the surface right now, barely keeping out of the national news, but that won’t last forever. The Schuylkill River can handle only so many corpses before they begin to overflow the banks. The Philly PD is already getting pissed, and the more blood we spill, the more aggressive they get about trying to shut us down. Stealing and selling drugs is one thing, but fucking up their murder stats and making the civilians feel unsafe is beyond the pale. The fighting has to stop soon, or else the heat’s coming down hard and everyone will suffer.
This girl is an opportunity. Or at least she’s a fun little distraction for a night. I’m a raw nerve and she looks like sex in high heels—the type of shoes I’d like to make sure she keeps on when I finally get to unwrap her. I think there’s a good chance we can help each other this evening.
“Do you want another drink?” I ask but she shakes her head. Smart girl, don’t get too drunk.
“I don’t plan on staying here long.”
“That’s good. I don’t either.” A little thrill runs into my stomach. I lean closer and pitch my voice lower. A nice, private conversation. I like the way she licks her lips. “Just so you know, I don’t pay for it.”
Her eyes widen and her body stiffens. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying, I like you. I think you’re attractive. But I don’t pay for sex.”
“I’m not a prostitute,” she hisses at me.
And based on the way her face turns bright red and she’s leaning away from me like I have an infectious disease, I believe her.
Well, fuck.
I should’ve realized, but she’s dressed like that in a place like this and I just sort of figured?—
Well, who the fuck would look so goddamn fuckable in a dive bar filled with slimy douchebags except for girls looking for a job?
Dante’s whole body shakes with silent laughter. That prick thinks this is hilarious. And meanwhile, I just insulted the most attractive woman I’ve seen in a very long time and probably fucked up my chances.
“I’m sorry,” I say, backing off, trying to think of a way to salvage this situation, but I’m not sure how the hell I come back from this. “It’s just, you’re a beautiful girl sitting alone in a dump like this wearing that dress, I just thought?—”
“You just thought, what, exactly? My body is here for your amusement? I wore this dress so you’d get to eye-fuck me?”
I make an innocent face. “Yes, actually. But clearly, I messed up.”
My honesty pisses her off. I like the little crease between her eyebrows as she grips her glass and takes a long drink. “Well, I’m not, and what if I were? Did you think I’d fuck you for free? I’m not the kind of girl to give discounts.”
I give her a sharp laugh. Well, shit, at least she has a sense of humor. “I hoped I’d be able to seduce you.”
“That’s pretty presumptuous. Do you get freebies from hookers often?” Her eyes are sparkling now and she’s trying to hold back laughter, but I can tell she’s still a little embarrassed.
“More than you’d think. Usually out of pity.”
I expect her to throw the rest of that wine in my face, but she doesn’t. I also expect her to storm off, but she also doesn’t. Which is strange.
I called this girl a hooker, but she’s still sitting next to me, and she’s even smiling a little at my stupid self-deprecating joke.
That’s interesting.
Dante’s laughter dies down and he orders another drink. “You guys are really hitting it off,” he murmurs.
I make a rude gesture at him without turning my back on Molly.
“Let’s start over. I fucked up and embarrassed both of us, but I was doing so good up until then.”
“You were doing fine,” she says, but some of her anger’s softening. Which means I still have a chance. And I have to admit, I’m much more curious about her now that I know she isn’t a professional. The way she looks begs a lot of questions, but mostly it begs for me to bend her over and fuck her brains out.
“Come on, you were interested,” I say playfully. “I saw the way you were looking at me.”
“I was curious, that’s all.”
