Page 8 of Hustler in the Mafia
Even though he didn’t correct me, the soft pulp behind the metal armour of my heart throbbed like a trapped bird.Fuck!I wasn’t going to be his little bird.
Everything in the room was loud. The clatter of his cutlery on a porcelain plate. The bite of crusty bacon in my mouth. The gulp of hot coffee going down my throat. The agitation in my breaths that came out in a huff.
Cacat!Iwasa bird, and I was trapped.
Each mouthful that I took felt like a year off my life. Unease prodded my skin like a thousand rose thorns scraping across it. Nine gulps later, I was done and shoved the plate towards him. He caught it on instinct rather than sight right before it hit the floor, sliding the last bit of bacon into his mouth with his other hand. There wasn’t a flicker of anger on his face as he piled the plates and dumped them into the sink.
“Let me out,” I spoke to his back.
He did the dishes as if he was hard of hearing.
“Let me out!” My tone rang loud, like a fire drill in a tiny hall.
His movements were calm as he dried his hands and turned around. With his forearms on the counter, he rested, leaning back, looking for all the world completely relaxed. The waistlineof his jeans dipped down another inch, showing off the visible V on either side of his hips. “Stay.”
I jerked back in my seat. He could have shot me, and I would have been less surprised. “I’m not a fuck toy.”
“I know that.”
What was wrong with this man? “Here’s the deal.” I leaned forward. “I’ll blow you, and then you let me go.”
His posture remained the same, but his stare was dark and intent. There was a tick on his jaw and a tension in his arms that told me I’d angered him. Again. But his words were quiet even though they felt loud in my ears. “No.”
“Well, why the hell not? I’m not going to fuck you.”
“Yes. You are.”
Jackass!He was full of himself. “What are you going to do? Ra—”
He was up straight and leaning towards my face in a few strides. “Don’t even think of saying it. I will never do anything against your will.”
He was too much. His words. His deeds. My hands fisted on the countertop, and I leaned away from him. I needed a break. And I needed a wash.
His hand fell down like a ton of bricks and wrapped around mine. “Stay.” I startled, looking at our joined hands. His clean-cut nails and fingers with a dark dusting of hair and three metal rings. My stained hands lined with filth and mud-lined fingernails. Littered with scratches but still fragile and bony.
Sudden emotion filled me like a gush of water filling an empty tank. “Why?”
“Because I want you to. There’s food in the fridge. A comfortable bed. Take a shower. Enjoy yourself.”
He looked at me like my past didn’t exist. Like I was born wrapped in a gold cloth and not in a cold cot. He looked at me like I was a precious stone and not the shit under his Armanishoes. I thought that he needed a doctor. Someone to check his eyes and clear his vision. Because his vision wasn’t right. It was showing him a mirage and the reality he wouldn’t like. But his look didn’t change, and it only riddled me with more unease. I jerked my hand off him and crossed my arms in front of me. “You think I stink?”
He let out a harsh laugh and shook his head. “Then don’t take a shower. It was just a suggestion.”
I scowled at him. The man was not only an idiot, but he should get his senses tested. Because even I knew I needed a shower. A shower did sound good, though. “I’ll think about it,” I told him haughtily.
If he forced me, I was out of here. But he didn’t. He stepped away from me, and I didn’t know why, but I suddenly felt the cavity in between us.
“Do me a favour—”and here come the requirements.I scowled at him. “Stay inside. I can’t protect you if you are caught around the villa. Please?”
CHAPTER FIVE
FLORINA
The window outside was stained with droplets, and my insides churned with emotions. The echo of the soft thud of a closing door and a key turning in the lock crawled into my body and vibrated throughout. The man was no idiot. He knew if I really wanted to, I’d find a way to sneak out of his house. The lock on the window in the laundry room was the first one I would try. The question was, really, if I wanted to.
“I can’t protect you if you are caught around the villa. Please?”
The words ‘protect’ and ‘please’ whirled in my heart, making me feel giddy. No one had ever requested something from me, let alone wanted to protect me.
