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“I’ll be right back,” I said, then made a beeline for the bathroom and grabbed the waxing kit from beneath the vanity sink.
Brute was eyeing me curiously as I came back into the room, bypassing him and our guest, and heading for the kitchen. I popped the wax into the microwave and tripled the recommended time on the box.
“You planning on torturing him with a makeover?” Brute teased.
“Do you have any idea how much this shit hurts?” I called back.
But actually, after using it for long enough, it didn’t hurt that much anymore. Apparently, like a watch against the skin, the female body adapted to the nasty shit we did to it. Unfortunately for our guest, I had something a little nastier—and a little hotter—in mind.
“You sure you’re good with this?” Brute asked, looking far more serious than usual.
Ouch, that kind of stung. Of all the people to question whether I had what it took to do this, it bothered me that it was him, that when he looked at me, he saw weakness or cowardice.
I squared my shoulders and donned my haughtiest girl-power expression. “You think because I have a vagina, I can’t do what needs to be done?”
He smiled, unperturbed. “I have a feeling there’s very little you can’t do. But I also have a feeling you haven’t spent a lot of time digging answers out of a man’s flesh.”
“You’re right,” I admitted.
I’d helped Gabe on a few occasions, but Gabe had always taken the lead. How much pain we inflicted, where we drew the line, and whether we succeeded at the task or failed had been on him, not me.
Now, it was on me.
“I can do this,” I said becauseZiettoVito… Gabe… Brute… they would never shy away from a task that needed to be done, and neither would I.
The microwave beeped to let me know it was finished at the same time our guest’s eyes started to flutter.
I stood up straighter and glared at him, waiting for him to come fully around.
When he did, he stared right at me as he stretched his neck and tested his restraints. He looked over at Brute who was standing a few feet behind me, then back to me, glaring daggers the whole time. When he didn’t try to scream behind the gag, I tugged it out of his mouth.
“It looks like you’re in a bit of abind, handsome,” I mused. Look at me; I hadn’t lost my sense of humor.
He stopped testing his restraints and glared up at me. “I’m not sure what you’re hoping to accomplish here,puta,” he said in a heavily accented voice. “You kill me, Domínguez will make you pay for it.”
Brute chuckled behind me.
I rolled my eyes. “Stop being so dramatic, handsome. I’ve heard all the lines before: ‘You’ll pay for this’,” I said, holding up one finger, “‘You’re dead’, ‘You won’t get away with this’.” I counted them off on my fingers, then dropped my hand and leaned in closer. “But after all those threats, I’m still here,” I whispered, “and I’m going to get away with this too.”
A noise rumbled in his throat like a growl while Brute walked into the kitchen and came back with my container of bubbling wax, wrapped in another dish towel.
“I figured you’d be wanting this too,” Brute said, holding out the container and the wooden applicator.
I took them, smiling sweetly. “Grazie.”
“What are you?—her bitch?” the guy spat at Brute.
“Just here for the show, my friend,” he replied without missing a beat, not the least bit bothered by the asshole. “A girl like Greta bringing an asshole like you to your knees? Who wouldn’t pay good money to see that?”
Well, maybe I should start charging admission. In the meantime…
I stirred the bubbling wax with the applicator, feeling the heat of it soaking through the dish towel and wafting up in steam.
“El jefeis a reasonable man,” the guy said, his eyes intent on the wax. “He sent me to give you a warning.”
“Oh? And what warning is that?” I asked once the applicator was thoroughly coated.
“He wants Valeria back. She isn’t yours to keep. Give her back.”
