Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
But it’s not life-changing money. It’s not start-over money. It’s not freedom.
I need life-changing money.
“I’ll leave if you give me thirty-one grand,” I tell him, amazed at my own audacity. “Otherwise, I’m staying the week.”
The moment I see Giovanni’s face, I know I’ve overplayed my hand. His expression shifts from irritation to something darker—the way storm clouds roll in before lightning strikes.
My pulse kicks up to hummingbird speed, and I realize I’m still holding the notebooks between us like some ridiculous shield. As if paper could stop whatever’s coming.
He takes a deep breath, runs his fingers through his perfect hair, and fixes me with a glare that could freeze hell over. “You’re making a big mistake. I’m going to go on record and say that outright. You will regret this, but that’s your ‘thing’ I guess, Little Miss Take.”
The nickname stings worse now. Like he’s cataloged my entire personality as one big error in judgment.
As if reading my mind, he picks up my thoughts. “You can’t help but make them, can you? You and your words. They’re gonna get you killed one day, you know that?” His voice drops lower. “But if you want to stay, fuck it. Stay. But let me be very clear about what you’re agreeing to.”
I lower the notebooks, trying to keep my hands from visibly shaking. Thirty-one thousand dollars, I remind myself. That’s what I’m agreeing to. Survival money.
“Remember what you walked into at my house in Riverview?” Giovanni asks, stepping closer, his shadow falling over me like a physical weight, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Dom and Ricky with those naked glitter whores?”
I nod, remembering the tableau of hedonism.
“That’s nothing compared to what will happen at this party tonight.”
His eyes never leave mine as he describes what Rico’s parties entail. The words roll off his tongue with clinical precision: “Drugs passed around like party favors, women being fucked like commodities, card games where the pot includes cars, and boats, and sometimes homes. There will be weapons and men drunk enough to use them. This isn’t Dom’s ten-inch dick getting hard inside his boxers while a naked glitter girl gives him a lap dance. This is Rico LaRiccia.”
Giovanni steps even closer, his breath warm against my face.
“He is violence disguised as charm, cruelty masquerading as hospitality. The kind of man who smiles while he decides which of your fingers to break first, who laughs while watching the light fade from someone’s eyes. And you, Emmaleen, are not a guest here if you stay.”
His voice has gone completely flat.
“You’re my glitter girl for the night.”
My stomach drops through the floor.
Glitter girl. Property. Accessory. Toy.
Thirty-one thousand dollars.
One week of whatever this is. I hold his gaze, refusing to blink first.
Then, with as much conviction as I can muster, I set my jaw and nod.
“Deal.”
17
Deal.
She has no idea what she just agreed to. I could laugh if I wasn’t so fucking furious.
My blood runs hot beneath my skin, pressure building behind my eyes. A tactical error on my part—letting her see that I care enough to be angry. I school my features back to neutral, though my jaw remains tight enough to crack teeth.
Little Miss Take. Every time I think I’ve cataloged all her mistakes, she invents a new one.
She’s standing there, spine straight, chin lifted, like some martyr facing the firing squad. The stubborn defiance in her eyes tells me everything I need to know about why she’s in this position. Too proud to take the money and run. Too naive to understand what’s coming.
Fine. She wants to play the part? I’ll make sure she understands exactly what she’s signed up for.
I stride to the closet, yanking open a drawer with more force than necessary. The wood protests, sliding past its stops. Inside are neatly folded T-shirts—black, white, gray. I select a white one, ball it up, and toss it at her. She catches it against her chest, those wide green eyes following my movements.
“Put this on. No bra.” My voice sounds like gravel under tires. “These fuckers outside? They’re going to be looking at your tits all night anyway. Might as well make them bounce.”
The shock on her face is almost worth it. Almost.
“And don’t give me that fucking virgin schoolgirl look. You want to be my arm candy for Rico’s little party? This is what that means. You’re a decoration, Emmaleen. A fucking accessory.”
I reach for my tie, loosening the knot with practiced efficiency. Her gaze drops to my hands, then back to my face.
When she takes a step toward the bathroom, I move faster, blocking her path with my arm. The wall is cool against my palm as I lean in, close enough to see the freckles across her nose.
“Oh, hell no. You put that on in front of me. That’s what you signed up for, remember?”