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“Mmm…sexy. Still want me as your pretend girlfriend?”
“Unfortunately for you, yes. Rest up today. I need you well tonight.”
My brows draw close. “What’s tonight?”
“Dinner with a work associate.”
“Another mobster?” I gasp. The wave of nausea from last night returns and I clutch my stomach.
“Your boyfriend was in a street gang…and Mafia talk makes you sick?”
“First of all, the Mafia is on a whole different level of crime. That much is obvious. Huge difference between some guys off the street hitting up a liquor store. Second, how did you know Enzo was in a gang?”
“Wild guess,” he answers, more humor infusing his smooth tone. “But thank you for confirming. You’ll be on my arm tonight, so I need you to look good.Andto behave yourself.”
I fold my arms with distinct indignation. “I know how to act!”
“That remains to be seen. Eat. Relax. Be ready by six.”
“And where are you going—?”
Before I can even get the full question out, he’s strolling out of the suite. The door swinging shut is my only answer. I huff out a petulant breath and then turn around to the room service cart. There’s no use letting another morning’s delicious breakfast go to waste.
The daydrags. Who would’ve known being a Mafia girlfriend would be so damn boring? After breakfast, I convince my security guard, Louis, to escort me to the resort’s gym. I’m not trusted anywhere by myself, so every machine I use, Louis stands no more than five feet away. Always close enough to yoke my ass should I try to run for it.
But at this point, I’m beyond trying to run away. I’ve pretty much given up on that idea. It’s no use when I have no money, no phone, no real friends or family except Tasha. Even if I do get away, then what? Go back to my crappy apartment and wait for them to track me down? Work another night on stage at the Dollhouse…which Gio and his family own?
Nope. At this point, I’m trapped. I know I’m trapped. IacceptI’m trapped.
So far, Gio has kept his word. He’s treated me, more or less, with respect. He hasn’t hurt me, hasn’t even tried to force me to provide my “services” when he can easily make me. Instead, he’s taken me on a $20,000 shopping spree, tucked me into bed when I’ve fallen asleep in chairs or slumped over toilets, and he’s kept me well-fed. What’s there to complain aboutreally?
Aside from lack of freedom. Aside from the fact that he’s a dangerous, deadly man at heart. And sexy, which only makes him more deadly and dangerous. The confidence he exudes is so effortless, so natural it’s infused with who he is as a man.
Ever look at a man and just know he can fuck? That was the first thought coming to mind when I laid eyes on Gio at the Dollhouse. I can tell in how he acts, sense it in how he moves. Now that I’ve seen his trim, cut body naked as the day he was born and the appendage swinging between his legs, I’m hungry.
I kinda wanna ride his huge dick into orgasmic oblivion.At least once.
If my days are numbered, why not go out with a bang…as in Gio banging the fuck out of me?
As I towel off from the stair machine, I decide I’m changing my mindset. The insane predicament I’ve found myself in isn’t changing. But why continue to fight it when this could be the escape from my shitty old life I’ve been looking for?
What am I clinging to, really? I’m a stripper with an assload of bills and college debt piling up. My boyfriend’s about to be locked up for the next three to five years. His debts to the loan sharks remain unpaid. My mom disowned me a long time ago, and my boss is dead. I have nothing.
“You remind me of my little sister,” Louis says out of nowhere. He hands me another towel.
I hesitantly accept. “Me? Your little sister?”
“She’s about your age, your vibe.”
“My vibe? What’s that mean?” I wipe my brow and suck down some water from my hydro flask.
“Young, silly, very into what’s hip.”
We leave behind the machines and move toward the resort gym’s exit. As I fall into step beside him, giving him a furtive glance, any sense of caution leaves me. He looks like a big teddy bear more than anything, dressed up in an all-black suit. His expression is easygoing and his tone conversational. He’s just like any other regular guy off the street…except maybe sometimes he kills people.
“Not sure what you mean by silly, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“It is one, Miss Falynn,” he replies. We move down a wide corridor with plush diamond-patterned carpeting and artistic sconces lighting up the walls. “That might be why Boss is keeping you around.”
