Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Vince
Luna glares at me over her bowl of cereal as I enter my kitchen. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“What’s good about it?” she snaps. “Soon, I’ll have to cheat my way through another victory.”
“It’s a good morning because a little femme fatale didn’t slit my throat last night,” I tease her. “And yes, you will have to bring in money.”
She flings her cereal bowl at me; I duck just in time as it lands behind me with a crash, milk splattering against the wall.
Keeping my expression neutral, I don’t give her the reaction she’s going for. “After you clean up your tantrum, get ready. We’re going out; I have some errands to run.”
“Wouldn’t your fuck buddy be better suited to help pick out your ties?” Luna says, arms crossed. “Although you did threaten to murder Sophie, so yeah, you’re on your own with those tough wardrobe decisions. ”
My lips quirk. “If memory serves, you were the one sharing my bed last night, Luna.” As for Sophie, she’s sharing a shallow grave with all the dirty laundry she had on me.
“Oh, I bet you remember alright. Did you have to jerk your dick in the shower this morning thinking about my tight virgin cunt?” she asks sweetly, trying to rile me up.
“If you weren’t so damn stubborn, you could have been in the shower with me lending a hand.” And yes , I did have to jerk my dick this morning thinking about it, but not in the shower. No, being the sick fuck that I am, I jerked my dick in bed with her virgin blood dried on my shaft, inhaling the smell of our sex lingering on the sheets.
She rolls her eyes. “Dream on. Last night was one and done. And thanks for the ‘invitation’ but I’m busy this morning.”
“Doing what?” And she’s right about the one and done. Fucking Luna was a mistake; a mind-blowing, out-of-this-world mistake, but still a mistake. I’m her authority figure, whether she likes it or not. She’s too young for me. I’m extorting her. Last but not least, I wouldn’t put it past her to try and kill me again.
Would it be worth it, though, to get her back in my bed?
Dammit, no!
“None of your business,” Luna says, and I try to stay focused.
“I already told you, everything you do is my business,” I correct her.
Luna grabs from her backpack a wad of money; my money. Throwing it at me, the bills bounce off my chest. “Apply that to your shylocking.”
I really am a sick fuck, because a part of me loves it when’s she’s this feisty. “Shylocking is for loan sharks,” I correct her.
“Isn’t that what you are? A glorified loan shark for gambling addicts?” She rises and storms to the door .
I grab her arm and jerk her around to face me. “Clean up your mess.”
She raises her chin in defiance. “Clean up your mess. You’re the reason we’re in this fucked up, whatever the hell this is!”
I grip her cheeks hard. “No, your old man is the reason we're here; don’t ever forget it.”
“That may be true, but I still hate you more than him,” Luna spits, jerking out of my hold. Stomping over to the mess, she squats down and picks up the broken bits of the bowl, tossing them in the trash can. Glaring at me, she grabs a towel and spray bottle of cleaner from beneath the cabinet, scrubbing with exaggerated force.
“Really, Luna?” I say in a patronizing tone. “You hate me more than an abusive piece of shit alcoholic. Do I need to remind you what you looked like when I first saw you?”
“I lived it; you don’t have to remind me of a damn thing! But at least with my dad, I got to play chess without his interference. Maybe you don’t understand because you’ve never loved anything in your miserable life, but you’ve ruined chess for me, and I’ll never forgive you for it!” She grabs her backpack from the table, storming out of the house.
Luna
If you’re dumb enough to spread your legs for him, he’ll take your innocence and toss you out the next morning like a carton of soured milk.
I was dumb enough to spread my legs for Vince, but he didn’t have to take a damn thing. I gladly offered myself to him on a silver platter. Sniffing my hand, I make a face. Eww. And now I’m the one who smells like a carton of soured milk.
I’ve embarrassed myself with a pointless sacrifice of my Queen and lost my advantage as a result. Sure, the sex was amazing. I expected my first time to be awkward at best, but that’s because I assumed I’d be with an inexperienced boy. Vince is neither, and the fact that I orgasmed not once but twice for the asshole, I’m livid.
I plop down on the bus stop bench, wincing at the lingering soreness between my legs. “Smile, pretty girl,” an old man seated on the other end of the bench tells me.
I give him a death glare, and he holds up his hands and goes back to minding his fucking business.
A blacked-out SUV pulls up to the curb, and Vince rolls down the window. “Get in,” he orders me.
“Fuck off,” I spit back at him.
Vince raises a gun, and I smirk, calling his bluff; he’s not gonna shoot his cash cow. But to my surprise, he points the gun at the old man. “I said get in, piccola . Keep pushing me, and I promise you won’t like the consequences,” he says in an eerily calm tone.
“Girl, get in the damn car,” the old man pleads.
I storm to the vehicle and climb in, slamming the door shut.
Vince has that easy-going look on his face, and it makes me homicidal. “Plotting my death, Luna?” he asks with a smile in his voice as we pull away from the curb.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He solemnly nods. “I would. When can I expect the next attempt on my life?”
“Is Daddy wanting me back in his bed so soon?” I mock.
“What will your weapon of choice be this time?” he muses.
“Sorry to disappoint; I’m busy tonight. ”
“Doing what?” He eyes me.
“I’m meeting up with some friends from school.”
“You’re not.”
“What the hell gives you the right to control my life?” I ball my hands into fists.
“I told you; might makes right.”
“I hate you!”
Vince grabs a glass jar from the cupholder, holding it up.
“What the hell is that?”
“Hate you jar, like a swear jar. Drop in a dollar every time you say ‘I hate you.’ At this rate, your debt will be paid off in no time.”
I reach in my bag, pulling out a hundred and dropping it in the jar. “There you go,” I say. “You owe me ninety-nine bucks.”
Vince snorts a laugh. “Explain to me Luna math, seeing as that’s my money.”
“ Was your money. Might makes right.”
Grabbing my headphones from my bag, I put them on as I stare out the passenger window.
I can feel Vince’s gaze on me, and I make a show of uncrossing my legs and then crossing them back in my short skirt. Cutting my eyes, I catch him staring before he darts his attention to the road.
Well. Well. Well. Maybe my sacrifice wasn’t a total waste. If I can keep the man lusting after my body, that at least gives me some power in this fucked up power imbalance.
I pull my headphones off as Vince parks behind a shady-looking sports bar. “What are we doing here?” I wonder.
Vince gets out and opens my door for me. “Business.”
“So shaking people down,” I correct him.
Ignoring me, he uses a key, opening the back door and ushering me inside. “You’ll hang out in the break room until I’m finished.” He opens a door to a fucking broom closet with a stool .
“Not happening.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
He shoves me inside, closing the door. “Hey!” I jiggle the handle, but he’s locked me in here. “I hate you!” I shriek.
“That’s a dollar,” he calls from the other side of the door.
“You owe me ninety-eight!”
“I’ll be back in a little while.”
Nope.
I give it a few minutes before I pull a pin out of my messy bun, bending it into a long line and working it inside the lock. This one’s much easier to open than the lock on Vince’s home office; I turn the knob while pressing the pin, and the door opens.
Strolling through the kitchen like I belong here, I spot a cook in the back, but the man doesn’t pay me any attention. Reaching the service entrance to the front, I sneak a peek around the corner. I don’t see Vince, but a bartender appears, blocking my way.
“You’re somewhere you shouldn’t be.” He tsks with a hint of an Italian accent.
“Story of my life.” I flash a flirty smile, as I don’t want to be sent back to the broom closet.
“Come sit.” He motions for the bar, and I walk around and climb on the stool. “What can I get the little trespasser to drink?”
“Soda, please.”
“One soda, coming right up.” He ducks behind the bar, grabbing a bottle and pouring me a glass.
“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip through the straw.
“Now, tell me how you got in through the back,” he says in a much less playful tone.
“Vince. I’m guessing he’s your brother?” They share the same facial features, but this guy looks way younger.
His face gives nothing away. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“I’m Luna. ”
“Ah,” he says, leaning over the bar. “No wonder my brother was trying to keep you hidden in the back.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Pretty little thing like you would give all these old men heart attacks,” he comments, motioning to the older clientele.
“What about you?” I tease.
“Worth the risk.” He winks at me. “On second thought, not worth the risk.” He straightens, and I follow his gaze.
“Great,” I mutter. Vince is storming over.
He and his brother exchange something in Italian, and Vince jerks the drink from my hand. Sniffing it, he takes a sip before handing it back to me.
“Sure, help yourself,” I grumble.
An older man approaches, and he and Vince shake hands. “Who’s the pretty girl? She your daughter?” he asks Vince, and his brother snickers.
“Yes, Vince. What is our relationship?” I ask innocently.
“She’s a family friend I’m looking after,” Vince says, giving me a warning look. “Let’s take this conservation to a booth.”
“Sports betting is a scam,” I call after them.
Vince’s brother chuckles, wiping down the bar. “I like you.”
“Your brother doesn’t feel the same.”
“My brother’s had a stick up his ass for years; maybe you can help him pull it out.”
I wrinkle my nose. “No thanks. What’s your name?”
“Aldo.”
“This your bar?”
“Yes indeed.”
I take a sip of my drink, considering. “Why does your brother have a stick up his ass?”
Aldo shrugs. “You’d have to ask him that.”
I snort a laugh. “We’re not exactly BFFs. ”
He cocks his head. “No, I’d imagine not.”
I want to ask him more questions, but a man bellies up to the other side of the bar, and Aldo winks at me, walking off.