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“Okay,Gio, then yes…I do like breakfast. Any breakfast. My meals have been mostly ramen noodles lately, so anything you order, I’ll eat.”
An hour later, we sit on the sofa with the big-screen TV blaring, eating bacon and fried eggs. Falynn was not kidding about eating anything. So far she’s scarfed down two eggs, too many strips of bacon to count, and hash browns. She eats without apology, not graceful as she sits cross-legged and uses her fingers.
I watch in amusement. I’m not hungry, so I only sip more champagne, but the room service is worth it if it makes her feel more comfortable. It’s also clear this is the first real meal she’s had in quite a while.
“How did you come to work at the Dollhouse?” I ask.
She swallows another bite of bacon. “I got fired from my last job waiting tables. None of the casinos would hire me. I have dance experience. Jerry took me on. He said he liked my look.”
“A lot of men would say the same.”
She diverts her gaze almost bashfully. “It was never supposed to be permanent working at the club. Just something to help Enzo pay the bills.”
“This Enzo doesn’t sound like the man you should be with.”
“No offense, but I barely know you,Gio. You’ll forgive me if I don’t take relationship advice from you.”
“My uncle just finished serving fifteen years in the joint,” I say, sipping from the champagne. “His wife never once had to worry about a bill. She was always taken care of. He made sure of it.”
She scoffs at me. Second time in one night. I’m beginning to cherish these small, feisty moments; they make my cock hard.
“What if I told you I wasn’t with Enzo for the money?”
“Then why were you with him?”
“You’re kidding me? Maybe because I loved him?”
“A broke man, a broke criminal…theworstkind of criminal?” I release a dismissive laugh that gets under her skin.
She makes a sound of disgust. “Don’t you say a bad word about him. You don’t get to judge him. You’re out of line.”
“You’re right. But it’s still the truth.”
“Speaking of the truth,” she says hotly, now on the offensive, “whydid you kill Jerry?”
The question, admittedly, throws me for a loop. The laughter dies on my face and I cast her a cold look of warning. The fun and games of our little sleepover, late-night breakfast are over as I’m reminded at once she’s still a witness to our indiscretion.
She picks up on the change in my body language, because she lifts her chin and stares defiantly back. “Are you going to kill me, Gio? Is that why you brought me here?”
“Enough. Finish eating.”
I stand up, seething at what feels like a betrayal. Though I trust no one—certainly not a stripper who is moonlighting as an escort—I have softened to her. I have gone far out of my way to treat her with kindness when I could’ve much easier been a brute.
Only one person has been taken advantage of tonight, and that’s me.
“You’re sleeping here with me,” I tell her, my glare intense. “You’re going nowhere anytime soon. Not ’til I decide what I’m going to do with you.”
