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“Why is the front door to your building open.” It’s not a question and he’s not hanging about for an answer. Hissing something ungodly under his breath, he pulls his fake gun from his waistband and lunges for his car door.
Oooh okayyy
Raphael’s gaze trails down the opening of my wet jacket, before snapping back up to my sweet smile. “Yes?” “Cough up, sugar daddy.” Biting back amusement, he tugs out his wallet. His arm brushes mine as he tosses bills onto the counter. “Plus VAT.” “Oh, no sir. It already includes VAT—” “Plus VAT,” I repeat, not taking my eyes off Raphael. With a slow shake of his head, he slams another twenty on the counter. “Plus tip.”
Iconnnn
A server hot-foots it toward me. She sets down her coffee pitcher and lays a soft hand on my arm. “Are you okay, lovely?” I blink. “What? Oh, right. He hasn’t kidnapped me, don’t—” Her nervous laugh and wary glance up to Raphael cut me off. “No, sweetie. You were in here a few nights ago and you left so suddenly. You looked like you were about to be sick.” She looks over her shoulder and lowers her voice. “We didn’t make you sick, did we?”
Aww she’s so cute
A strong hand grips my waist, and a dark, silky voice touches my ear. “You okay, Penny?”
The radio hums with one of those festive songs that always get stuck in your head around this time of year, and Raphael’s thick fingers strum against his thigh in time with it.
The fact they could be listening to Chris Rea’s driving home for Christmas right now is hysterical
“You not hungry?” He regards me like I asked him to dance out in the rain, naked. “Do I look like I eat that shit?” Instinctively, I glance down at the tight stomach under his semi-see-through shirt and push all intrusive thoughts out of my brain with an extra-big bite of my burger. Not in a million years.
EW TURN OFF
“Bad things happen at night,” I whisper. His jaw tenses, but he still doesn’t look at me. “Like?” Like grown men dragging me out into an alley and lifting up my dress.
Why do women in these books always have to have rape trauma
“Were you any good at it?” he asks tensely. I jut my jaw in defiance. “Yes.”
“So show me.”
ONGG
I swallow. “Here?” He nods. “There’s no room.” Wordlessly, he reaches down beside his seat and it whirs all the way back, creating a large space between his knees and the steering wheel.
Mini Coopers. “It’ll cost you.” Again, he does nothing but stare at me. His hand slides in the pocket of his door, and then a brick of notes falls among my French fries with a dull thud. I stare down at the wedge of hundred-dollar bills, bundled together by an elastic band. Christ, there’s at least a grand there, much more than I’ve ever dreamt of earning in a night, let alone for one dance.
JESUS
Wham! croons something about last Christmas on the radio.
A STRIP TEASE TO WHAM IS RIDICULOUS
Driving Home for Christmas isn’t exactly a hit at strip clubs.
YOURE JOKING. I KNEW IT
The guttural tone of his grunt sends a shock of pleasure up to my clit.
“I thought you’d had lap dances before? You should know you get fined for touching.” A cool breeze whistles past my ear, and when I snap my eyes open, I see another
brick of bills bounce off the windshield and skid across the dashboard.
“Take it off.” “Costs extra.” The snap as he drags his thumb out from underneath the band makes my back arch in pleasure. Jaw tight, his eyes run down the length of my throat and back up to my parted lips. “I’ll take it off.”
“That costs even more.” There’s that animalistic groan again; my pussy clenches around it, and fuck, how I wish it was tangible. My fingers dig into the headrest, and raspy breaths tickle the planes of my chest. I shoot a half-lidded glare at the roof and feel a sudden weight in my lap. I rake my teeth over my bottom lip to suppress a smile, familiar with the weight of his money now. “Not gonna cut it.” Another thud, this one harder, lands on my stomach. I shake my head. “Not even close—” My sass morphs into a gasp as Raphael’s thick fingers find purchase in the base of my hair and yank my
...more
OH NY GODDD
He cocks his head. Flexes his biceps as he readjusts his hands behind his head. He nods. “Carry on.”
“Strip for another man again, and he’ll die crossing the road.”
Omggg
“Your men couldn’t protect a password,” he grunts. I mutter something dark under my breath, but I have to admit, he’s got a point. Twenty-three ex-special-ops guardians and none of them could stop one man getting to me. Sure, that man is Gabriel Visconti and I don’t think a ten-foot-thick wall of iron would have stopped him getting through that door, but still.
LMAOO
“It’s child’s play. I’m restless. Losing my fucking mind. I need more, I need something…” He huffs out a dark breath. “Something to silence it all.” What?
Wtf
I break into a smile. “What are you doing here?” “Angelo’s got a meeting with Rafe and some old dude. Found out you were working so I decided to cut my flying lesson short and keep you company.”
Awww
Raphael’s on his feet, but I’m quicker, leaning in and hissing in Kelly’s face. “If you don’t remove your hand from me right now, I’ll bite it.”
Iconnnn
“Yes?” I whisper back. “Tell me what the weather is like today.”
“Look out the window, and tell me what the weather is like.”
I swallow. “Well, uh. It’s cloudy, but I don’t think it’ll r—” My forecast is sliced in half by a sound I’d know anywhere. It's a sound I’ve heard before, twice, as it took the lives of both my dead-beat parents. Bang.
“Penelope?” I latch on to the tranquility in Raphael’s voice like a life-line. “Don’t turn around. Just open the door and take a walk.”
Omgggg
“Why do you care if I cry?” He tracks his thumb as it trails further down, across my bottom lip and along my chin. He grips me there for a moment, regret coating his features. “Because last night, I saw you laugh.”
He reaches onto the seat behind him. Dumps a fast-food bag onto my lap. “And your appetite?” I stare down at the bag for a few seconds, my fists clenched by my sides. When I finally peel it open and see my regular order from the diner, something warm and unwanted pools in the pit of my stomach. He remembered.
AWWW ONG
“Because when Martin O’Hare cornered me in the alleyway outside the casino, he did the same thing as you’re doing to me right now.”
Oh poor girl
“You’re a dead girl walking, Penelope,”
I’m supposed to like this man?
What an embarrassing way to go. Ever since, I made a vow that when death found me, I’d greet it with a straight spine and a staring match.
She’s so fucking badass
“Get in before I change my mind about killing you, Penelope.”
Lovely
and as I turn to face Raphael, he grabs me by the scruff of my neck and lifts my back up off the seat. When he drops me again, there’s something soft under my head. A pillow. Expressionless, he reaches into the back seat again and produces a blanket.
Awwww
“Go to sleep.” “But—” “But nothing, Penelope. Forget about Martin O’Hare; he’s my problem now.”
Oh okayyyy
Only this time, I wasn’t ready to lose what he’d asked me for. Penelope.
Oh my GOD
Christ, I’d never bartered with one of my girls before.
That’s fucking sick🤢
“Why?” “Uh, because she’s my friend?” I pretend I don’t see Gabe smirk into his whiskey glass.
I don’t just keep Tayce sweet because she’s the best tattoo artist on the planet, although it’s definitely part of the reason.
“Just a lemonade?” She stares at the table, hands clutching the purse in her lap. “Yes, please.” “I can’t tempt you with something stronger?” She shakes her head, offering him a polite smile. “I don’t drink.” “Aw, come on, it’s almost nearly Christmas—” The combination of Gabe’s chair scraping back and the crack of his fist connecting with the table sweeps a deafening silence through the cave. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Angelo rise to his feet. “She said, she’ll have a lemonade,” Gabe growls.
OH MY GOD GABE OMG WAITTTT
“Fire him,” he says, just loud enough for me to hear. “Or I’ll carve his eyeballs out with my rustiest pen knife.”
OOOH OKAY GABE MY FAV
“Penelope.” Her shoulders stiffen. “I’ll give you a ten-second head start.” But by the time the warning slides from my mouth, the little brat is already on her feet.
A hard, hot slap connects with my ass cheek, and my yelp of surprise soaks into the expensive fabric of his shirt. “What did I say about stripping for other men, Penelope?”
OOOOOH
He holds the whiskey glass with the tips of his fingers and slams a passion fruit martini down in front of me. I stare at it. How did he know it’s my favorite drink?
I can’t help but squirm under the possessiveness behind his palm.
“Higher or lower.” My gaze slides to his profile. He’s staring straight ahead, his expression neutral, save for the telling tick of his jaw. “I—” He squeezes my knee. “Not in the mood, Penelope.”
Lowkey love grumpy men
I’ve never made a decision based on emotion, and then you fucking come along, and I’m suddenly killing business partners because they look at you wrong.
Maybe try firing them first?
His gaze drops to my lips and he groans. “What, you wanna kiss me or something?” I say, my sarcasm tinged with hope. “Or something,” he mutters back, flicking my clit for my insolence.
“Yeah, well I wouldn’t kiss you either.” “No?” “Nah. I don’t like the taste of whiskey.”
