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“We’re done here,” I snap. “You pretended you needed help, when obviously you don’t.”
“Yes, I know the basics of poker. And yes, I was cheating. But you’re the one who suggested strip poker to hustle me,” he argues.
“Because you needed to be hustled! Still do, but I’m not the woman for the job.” I awkwardly step into my leggings and pull them up, which seems to take forever. Damn, why did I wear leggings?
“Katerina, I do need your help. I want to become proficient in every game played in my backrooms. I’m a capo now—a position of authority—and I need to know what the fuck I’m doing,” he admits.
“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, not happening.” Or fucking something like that. I shove my shoes and socks into my bag and storm toward the stairs barefoot.
“If you’re backing out of our deal, then your monthly protection fee just got upped to five grand a week,” he threatens.
“You don’t get to change the terms of the deal!”
He strolls around the table toward me. “Deals with mobsters. Of course I do.”
Five grand times fifty-two weeks a year; I snort out a laugh. “Your ridiculous yearly ‘protection’ fee is more than my annual salary. Guess I’d better get out there on the street and start turning tricks to make ends meet. Excuse me, I need to get to work.”
He grabs my arm and jerks me around, slamming me against the wall. “Oww!” I cry.
Caging me in with his other hand, his nostrils flare as he leans in and says, “I catch you doing that, and I’ll make you watch as I kill every motherfucker who touched you.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” I demand, shrugging out of his grip.
He answers by slamming his lips to mine.
Gasping, I claw at his chest, telling myself it’s to get him to stop, but I’m honestly not so sure about that. Finding myself opening for him as his tongue invades my mouth, he presses his body closer to me. His erection lays hard and heavy against my lower stomach as his tongue angrily lashes against mine.
Grabbing onto his shirt, I pull him closer as he begins to thrust his hips in rhythm with his tongue. A moan escapes my lips, one he eagerly swallows as he dry humps me hard against the wall. He lifts me up as I wrap my legs around his waist to offer him a better angle.
Fabio groans, pinning me to the wall as he ruts against me even harder, his dick hitting my clit ring with each movement of his hips. I dig my fingers into his broad shoulders, moaning against his mouth.
“Fuck, you are trouble,” he grits. “Let me inside this hot little pussy.”
Just say no. Just say no. Just say no.
“What?” he asks, and I startle; I didn’t realize I spoke out loud.
Somehow, someway, I regain my sanity. “I said no. Put me down.”
Fabio growls in frustration, but he places me on my feet and backs off; his desire evident in his eyes, along with the tent he’s pitching in his designer suit pants.
Ignoring him and his enticing hard-on, I march up the stairs and out the door, walking barefoot to the parking lot. My hands shake like a leaf as I slide behind the wheel of my car.
Driving to the tattoo parlor, I sign in and wait my turn. When I get called to the back, I hold up my right wrist as I plop in the chair. “Just say no.”
Chapter
Seven
Kat
Having slept in late the next day, I peek under the bandage, checking out my new ink. I smile; now this is exactly the kind of dopamine fix I’m into.
The doorbell rings, and I hop out of bed and throw on my robe, walking downstairs and glancing out the peephole. Opening the door, I grab the brown paper bag and a coffee cup from the stoop, along with a bouquet of purple chrysanthemums; purple being my favorite color.
Looking around, I don’t see anyone. Can’t be from Dominic; thoughtfulness isn’t his strong suit. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure what my ex’s strong suit ever was. Besides drama.
That leaves one suspect.
