5. Anya
CHAPTER 5
ANYA
I scramble up the stairs headed toward the restaurant, not bothering to look back at the two guys who pulled me out of that room.
I don’t need them.
I’m perfectly capable of executing my own escape plan.
I didn’t intend to cower in a corner of that room like some panicked little bitch who’d just witnessed a murder, but in the end, it worked out in my favor.
An easy out if someone happened to come into the room to check on things. They’d have never expected me to jump out and snap their neck, which I most certainly would have done.
It was a smart move to leave my knife planted in Vigo’s throat…once I wiped off the fingerprints. It gives the perception that I am helpless, sans weapon.
I’m not .
Besides, you just never know when you’re going to be frisked by a gorgeous yet mysterious stranger with a gun.
I know from past experience that Tatiana has a hidden exit that doesn’t require you to go through the restaurant. It’s usually locked, but tonight I happen to have stolen the key from Vigo’s jacket after butchering him. I tucked it into my bra for safekeeping.
When I get to the top of the stairs, I swivel around, popping my eyes open wide like a deer in headlights, really playing up the role of damsel in distress. The guys totally eat it up and they flank me on both sides as we enter the back of the restaurant. The music from the lounge pulsates, vibrations rippling through me as I stand in the center of them, quivering with ‘fear’.
The guy who frisked me murmurs something against my hair, and his warm breath against my cheek makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
He knows about the other exit, too.
“I-I have a key,” I whisper, my words still heavily accented. “It fell out of his pocket and I grabbed it. Maybe we should try it?” I’ve been here in Brooklyn for ten years and worked tirelessly to drop my accent. It just helps me blend better and people don’t readily assume I fled the Ukraine because some psychopaths were on the hunt to destroy my family. But it comes in handy during times like these when I’m playing a part.
And doing a damn good job, if I say so myself.
The guy looks at me, his thick eyebrows knitting together. We hurry toward the exit door and I pull the key out of my bra, making sure my hand quivers just enough to be believable. It takes me a few seconds to stick it in the lock, but that’s all part of the ruse. Finally, it slides in and I twist the handle.
I rub my hands down the sides of my arms once we’re outside.
I need to ditch these guys fast and strip out of this costume.
I’ve already been spotted in the casino with Vigo tonight, so shedding this getup is the only way I can fly under the radar and avoid potential retaliation by any of his allies who might be watching.
But I can’t very well do it here on the street.
My eyes scout the desolate alleyway right next to the restaurant. If they would just piss off, I could go behind one of the dumpsters and do my quick change.
But the shorter, darker guy grabs my arm and pulls me toward the street. “Let’s go have a drink,” he mutters. “I’m sure you can use one.”
“No, no,” I say, holding up my hands in protest. “Please, I just want to go home. Thank you for saving me, but?—”
He stops, his deep blue eyes narrowing. “It wasn’t a question.”
“But I’m not thirsty,” I say weakly.
“I’m not used to women turning me down.” A small smile quirks at his lips, but there’s something behind it. Suspicion, maybe. This isn’t a social call. For fuck’s sake, he and his friend came barreling into Vigo’s office toting Glocks. He’s not just trying to be nice and helpful, and that knowledge has my skin crawling. “You’re taking a sledgehammer to my self-esteem right now.”
I highly doubt that .
His fingers dig into my arms, gripping me tighter. “Don’t walk away. I’m the kind of guy who will be able to find you no matter where you run off to.”
Shit.
Looks like I need a Plan B.
Between them, they’re a combined total of about four-hundred pounds of cut muscle and they have guns.
I have some pretty lethal moves, but they’d draw too much attention to me out here in the open.
So I expel a sigh and nod.
I guess it’s story time.
They keep me positioned in the middle as we walk down the street toward the strip of bars in the next block. It’s unusually quiet tonight, and I was hoping to get in, carry out the hit, get out, and be in bed before eleven. Who the hell knew my plans would get thwarted by these two?
I bet any other girl on the planet would be thanking her lucky stars for a chance to be sandwiched between them, but as far as I’m concerned, they’re just super-hot obstacles I need to kick out of my path.
The taller one pulls open the door to the first place we come to called Velvet Lounge and I let out a shallow breath. Good fucking pick, guys. It’s dark and private, which is a very good thing for me, especially in terms of a quick exit.
My throat tightens as I step inside the door.
They’re not letting me go.
If I were them, I’d keep me close, too.
They obviously had business to take up with Vigo, so naturally, they’ll want to know who butchered him. And I can’t very well tell them the truth, that tonight was a setup to lure Vigo to Tatiana so a killer queen could go in and slay the bastard.
I have to focus on getting the hell out of here and disappearing into the night, leaving their questions hanging in the air.
This girl, this wig, this dress…none of it can exist outside of Velvet Lounge.
And if I want to stay alive, I need to bury it all immediately, if not sooner.
Lucky for me, I have the perfect out. I just need to get to the ladies’ room.
I clutch my bag, holding it tight against me as my heels click against the floor of the lounge. Part of me wonders why they haven’t tried to snatch it from me, not that they’d find anything interesting.
But they seem awfully trusting of someone who was just found crouched in the same room as a murder victim…a dangerous scumbag murder victim who’d committed too many crimes against humanity to even count.
I guess I’m a better actress than I thought.
They don’t seem the least bit threatened.
The shorter, dark-haired guy points me in the direction of the bar, giving me a little shove to move forward, and I grit my teeth.
Okay, really? Does he need to lead me around like I’m his fucking pet? I shake off his hand once we’re standing in a somewhat private corner of the bar, unable to bite my tongue for a second longer.
“Listen,” I say. “You don’t need to pull me around like I’m on a leash. I did not fight you. I came here with you as you requested, even though I begged you to let me go home.”
A look of surprise flits across his face and a smile lifts his lips. “Sorry. Maybe I just wanted to keep you close.”
“Keep me close?” I roll my eyes. “Please. After the way you frisked me at Tatiana, I think I you owe me a freaking marriage proposal.”
“Let’s start with your name, and then we can see how the night unfolds,” he murmurs, his lips lifting into a seductive smirk.
“Shocking.” I lift an eyebrow. “There are so many other questions I thought you’d have asked first.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get there,” he says, waving over the bartender.
“One drink,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely,” I seethe, almost letting my Americanized accent lace my words. He doesn’t catch it, though, since he’s too busy trying to liquor me up. Jesus. He doesn’t yet realize I can drink him and his friend under the table. I’m Russian, for Christ’s sake. I have vodka running through my veins instead of blood!
Although, the tall guy has the look of the Irish. I bet he can do some damage to a bottle of Jameson.
Jameson. That’s the name I’m giving him since I sure as hell know he’d never tell me his real one.
The bartender places three doubles of a clear liquid in front of us, but I make no move to grab my glass. Instead, I fold my arms over my chest.
“Is that the game we’re playing?” Blue Eyes says with a chuckle. I study him hard. Let’s call him Gio. He looks like he could be a Gio. I get that whole slippery, slimy, yet sexy and seductive vibe from him.
Gio hands Jameson one of the glasses, and both of them tip them back, gulping down the liquid and then slamming the glasses back on the bar.
After the shit I’ve seen and done tonight, I can really use a shot.
Or twenty.
But I don’t want to give this guy the satisfaction of knowing any of that.
I do, however, want to find out exactly who Gio is and why he was looking for Vigo. As far as anyone knew, he wasn’t supposed to be at Tatiana tonight, so I’d like to know why they were skulking around.
That means I’ve got to pack up my inner snarky bitch and bring out my weepy damsel alter ego again.
God, I fucking hate her.
But good that I can play her so damn well.
I force tears to my eyes and take a quivering breath before taking the glass Gio holds out to me. I release my arms, gazing up at him through my glued-on lashes. Can I just say the glue must be of the Gorilla variety because I can’t figure out how the hell they’re still adhered to my eyelids right now after all of the bullshit crying I’ve done.
Pretty impressive if I say so myself.
“If you only knew what I’ve been through tonight, you’d understand why I am being a little difficult.”
“Tell us,” Jameson says. “How the hell did you end up there?”
I raise the glass to my lips and take a tiny sip of the vodka. Mm. So smooth. So crisp. I want to toss it back in the worst way but I restrain myself.
I’m restraining myself a lot right now.
Self-control is something I struggled with for a long time after we escaped our hellish existence in the Ukraine, when I was angry all of the time and wanted to unleash it on anyone who got a little too close for comfort.
I’ve since learned how to channel that hostility in more productive, cash-generating ways, thanks to Uncle Boris.
“I was interviewing for a job,” I say in a shaky voice. “A cocktail waitress job in the casino. A friend of mine works there and she set me up with Vigo. But when I got there, he had something different planned for me. He brought in another man who pointed a gun at the back of my head and ordered me to take off my clothes.” I cough up a sob to make shit really sound legit as I spin my bullshit tale. “He told me he would shoot me if I didn’t. So I…I…” My shoulders quake and I weep into my hands, biting back a smile when I see the look of rage flit across both of their faces. I mean, yes, Vigo was a total pig and he deserved to die. But these guys are more than a little pissed off to hear how he came damn close to violating me. “I took off my dress and Vigo did…things. He touched me, made me touch him, and then he pulled off his pants and forced my head between his legs.” Bile genuinely rises in the back of my throat when I recall how very close my lips were to his diseased cock.
Gio slams his large fist on the bar, his full lips twisting into a grimace. “That fucking bastard,” he mutters. “What else?”
I balk. “That’s not enough?”
He shakes his head. “I’m just trying to figure out if he hurt you. In other ways,” he says vaguely, motioning for me to continue my story.
“If you’re trying to find out if he raped me, the answer is no,” I say. “I guess you could say I was one of the lucky ones who escaped that fate.”
“Lucky how?” Jameson asks.
I furrow my brow. “Someone killed him before he could do anything else. You saw his body when you pulled me out of there. The man with the gun left the room, and not a minute afterward, someone came in with a knife and plunged it into his throat while I watched from that corner.”
“But the killer left you alone,” Gio says.
“Yes. Like I said, I was lucky. I could be dead right now. And before you ask, he was completely covered so I have no idea what he looked like.” I quirk an eyebrow at the guys. “Okay, so I gave you a lot of information right there. Now tell me why you were looking for Vigo. Do you work with him? For him?”
“Fuck, no!” Jameson grumbles. “We’d never get involved with that piece of shit!”
“Okay,” I reply, taking another sip of the vodka. “So why were you there? With guns?”
“Let’s just say Vigo did some business with a friend of ours,” Gio says in a low, gravelly voice. Cone to think of it, I should have named him Mr. Dark, Dangerous, and Delicious. It totally fits him. “And he didn’t pay a debt. So we were there to collect.”
I nod. “Explains the guns. Sorry you didn’t get your money.”
Gio shrugs. “We didn’t exactly walk outta there empty-handed.”
“Yeah, but you’re walking out of here empty-handed. I can assure you of that,” I snap, allowing the scathing words to slip out before I have the chance to bite them back.
“Another blow to my self-esteem,” he says with a playful grin. A shiver runs through me as he shifts away from the bar, his muscular bicep brushing against my side.
Jameson grabs his phone from his pocket and peers at the flashing screen. He holds it up and looks at his friend. “I’m gonna take this outside.” He disappears through the front door, leaving me with he who shall remain nameless.
Gio has a hint of an Italian accent, so I know he’s not American. And my God, I’ve never seen eyes like his. They pop against his deep olive skin, so mesmerizing, I find it hard to drag my own gaze away from his. They root me to the spot, so piercing, so penetrating, sizzling every inch of skin as they travel the length of my body.
In another life, one where I have a normal existence and backstory, I would melt under his fiery sapphire stare.
But in my current state, I can’t give in to the temptation, no matter how strong it is.
My job is too important, and it doesn’t make accommodations for low-level thugs who carry out petty revenge plots.
I don’t know why they were really looking for Vigo.
And since Vigo is dead, I guess it really doesn’t matter.
I accomplished my objective, and that’s the most important takeaway.
He leans toward me, close enough that his spicy cologne wafts in the air between us, intoxicating me to the point where if he asked me my name, I’d have to force myself to recall my alias.
“So, I saved your life tonight,” he murmurs.
“It would appear so,” I rasp as he trails a finger down the side of my arm.
“It’s interesting that the killer didn’t slit your throat, too,” he whispers against my ear, sending tiny chills shuttling down my spine.
“I begged him not to,” I say. “And I guess he wanted to get out of there fast.”
“Still.” His fingers scorch a path down the back of my dress, stopping right at the small of my back. “Even a complete amateur wouldn’t have left the murder weapon behind, especially with an eyewitness.”
I recoil, my eyes popping open wide. “What the hell are you implying?” I gasp.
Gio shrugs, looping his fingers into the shoulder straps of my dress. My nipples peak under the fabric from the chills induced by his persistent and deliciously invasive touch. “It just seems odd that he didn’t kill you, too.” He stares at me, those blue eyes darkening with suspicion. “But who knows? The guy could have been a complete fucking moron who’d never done a job like that before. There are plenty of sloppy hit men. They don’t last too long in the field, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of—” And then I snap my mouth closed, realizing I just took his fucking bait. Sonofabitch! Two sips of vodka plus a goddamn lusty haze and I’m rendered a complete airhead?
“I bet you have,” he growls, pressing himself up against me. I swallow a yelp as he backs me against the bar, something thick and hard pressed against me. Is that…?
Oh, yes, it fucking is .
I bite down hard on my lower lip, locking my legs together. Holy Christ, what is happening to me right now? Inexplicable desire for this stranger floods my body, heat swirling in my belly and exploding out to every extremity under his hungry stare.
“What are you doing?” I gasp, making sure that my words are thickly laced with my accent. I may be overcompensating a bit, but I have to keep up this ruse if I have any shot of getting out of here.
His hands attach themselves to my hips and I flash my eyes in defiance. “You already know what’s underneath this dress,” I hiss, unable to control my temper this time. “Remember?”
“Maybe I wanted to do a second check, just to make sure,” he grunts in reply, his fingertips digging into my flesh.
“Do you second guess yourself often?” I ask, his lips hovering over mine.
“Never.”
Oh, no …
I take in a sharp breath, drinking in his masculine scent and letting it infuse me, one cell at a time. Goosebumps shoot up my arms and down my legs, and my hands suddenly find their way around his waist, then around his back…
Shit, this has to stop!
But I am rendered utterly powerless under his hungry gaze because my body’s appetite is equally voracious.
“Tell me who you really are.” His voice rumbles through me like a wave gathering force as it barrels toward the shore.
“I never told you who I wasn’t .”
Oohh, that was a dangerous move right there. Why can’t I stop myself from speaking?!
This salacious cat and mouse thing we’ve got going on has every nerve on high alert. I’m not above using my body to get what I want from the slimy bastards I deal with on behalf of the Volkov organization.
But this is me using my body to get what I want…period.
I haven’t ever felt a connection like this, the kind of touch that ignites my insides. It’s electric, explosive, and all-consuming.
It has the power to sizzle my brain waves and turn me into some kind of lusty vegetable.
Argh! No!
Not tonight.
Not ever!
I swallow hard, running my fingers over the gun tucked into the back of his pants. I quickly debate my next move, and judging by the way he’s looking at me, he’s questioning the same things I am.
But there’s a reason why I didn’t take the knife with me.
If I want to make a clean escape, I won’t be able to stash a weapon.
Besides, he clearly doesn’t trust me right now, so he’s fully expecting me to try and pull his gun on him.
My mouth stretches into a tight line as my fingertips slide away from the gun and from his taut torso. Just an aside, in another life, I’d spend hours tracing the outline of his muscles with my tongue… “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’d like you to take your hands off of me right now,” I say in a menacing whisper.
“That’s what you say, but is it what you really mean?” He presses himself tighter against me, forcing himself between my legs and I have no choice but to grab onto him, otherwise I’ll lose my balance completely. He grins. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“You know, I just told you about a traumatic situation,” I say, trying like hell to make my lip quiver. “And here you are trying to take advantage of me. In public, no less! You knew how scared I was. What kind of an insensitive asshole would play on that fear?” I shove a finger into his chest. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not collecting a prize tonight because you did a good deed by saving me. Just so we’re clear!” I grab my shot and gulp it down. “And now, as you can see, I’ve finished my drink, so I’ll just be going now.” I shove my hands against his chest and…nothing. He doesn’t even blink.
And his chest is like a massively thick wall of cement. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more of a quick shove to get him to move.
I know why I agreed to come in here.
What I question is the reason why I’m still standing here when I should be on my way home right now!
I’d always prided myself on getting a job done without being sidetracked by distractions, no matter how deliciously decadent they may be. And tonight, I am just failing on all fronts.
Epically.
“I don’t think so,” he says.
“Fuck you,” I seethe. “What, are you part of Vigo’s sex and drug trafficking ring? You brought me here to get me drunk and finish the job he couldn’t?” I don’t really believe that, but as I speak the words the thought percolates…I mean, anything is possible in the mafia underworld.
Too bad this jackass doesn’t see what’s about to happen next.
“Quid pro quo, sweetheart. You want answers? You’d better start giving them.”
“I already told you what happened to me! That’s all I know!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Okay, then, Columbo, why don’t you tell me what you think?”
“I think you want something, something you didn’t anticipate,” he breathes as he leans back into me. “And that’s why you’re still here. You say one thing, but then you do another. Why is that?” He backs me into a literal corner, the wood bar pressing against my spine.
I square my shoulders. “You don’t know anything about me. Don’t pretend to guess what’s going on in my head.”
“I know you haven’t made a move to leave. And you had a chance to grab my gun but you didn’t.”
“So what, that makes me a glutton for punishment, doesn’t it?” I flutter my eyelashes at him. “In which case, how could I be anything but innocent?”
“No innocent would be able to handle the punishment I’d deliver,” he snarls, lowering his forehead against mine.
The cloud of desire swirling around me is so thick, I may just choke on it.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” I murmur as the door opens as Jameson struts back into the lounge.
His expression is pinched and he looks seriously pissed off.
May be just the break I need to cut ties with The Italian Stallion.
And that time could not come soon enough.
Uncle Boris wouldn’t be happy about this little detour I’ve taken.
The job was to kill Vigo, not trade sexual innuendoes with a man who may possibly want to kill me if he finds out my true identity.
I shove my shoulder against Gio and he finally backs away, a wicked glimmer in those deep blue pools. “No need to be rude.”
I lift an eyebrow. “I’m going to use the restroom.”
“Sounds good. I’ll join,” he says.
I balk at his words. “You’re a really sick bastard, aren’t you?”
“Relax, I’m not coming in. I’ll just stand guard outside.” Gio leans toward me. “You never know who might show up, and I wouldn’t want that to play on your…” He trails a finger down the side of my arm. “ Fear .”
Jameson looks between us a couple of times before rolling his eyes. “I don’t wanna know, do I?” he asks, hailing the bartender over.
“No,” Gio says, never moving his gaze off of me. “We’ll be back.”
I grit my teeth, holding onto my bag as I stomp through the place in the direction of the restroom. I push through crowds of people dancing and pawing at each other without so much as a look back at the sexy anchor I’m dragging, even though I’m fighting the temptation to pull him close and pin him against a wall so I can show him how much he can do to help alleviate my ‘fear’.
I think that’s what has me the most pissed off right now…the fact that I let way too much slip in the small amount of time I was under his devious spell.
Okay, and maybe also because this mysterious, yet potentially deadly, stranger totally has my thong in a twist and has me caught in a loop of X-rated fantasies.
For all I know, he’s planning to slit my throat once we get to the darkened space at the back of the lounge. He hasn’t let me go for a reason, and I’ll bet it’s not because he?—
A determined force jerks my left arm, pulling me around a corner. I gasp, stumbling into a column before my back is slammed against a wall. But before I can utter a single sound, his lips crash against mine, his needy tongue plundering my mouth, tangling and tussling with my own in what can only be described as a frantic feeding frenzy.
Not that I can imagine ever being sated by this delicious assault on my mouth.
Goddammit!
I was so close to escaping…
But the taste of the forbidden is just too sinfully sweet to resist.
He presses his chest against me, his hands sliding up the sides of my torso — so powerful, so demanding, and so unbelievably in control, which is more than I can say for myself right now.
Then again, my objective is complete for tonight, so why not engage in a little release?
His knee forces my legs open, his lips scorching a path down the column of my neck toward the neckline of my dress. I lean my head back against the wall, my eyes floating shut as his devious hands knead my breasts, lapping at my exposed flesh without a single care about anyone interrupting our erotic little tryst.
Oh God, he is so good at this.
So much better than that fat fuck Vigo was.
I run my hands up and down his spine before gripping his waist. His mouth has moved up to my ear, tugging at my lobe and teasing the area behind it. I let a tiny mewl slip out as I cup his dick, stroking it through the fabric of his pants. So it is true what they say about Italian guys.
They really are massively hung.
Heat pools between my legs when I feel his fingers slide up the sides of my dress. He presses against my clit through the lacy fabric and I squeal as he slides it to the side, plunging his digits into my pussy. He drags them out slowly, agonizingly, and methodically, rubbing against my clit before shoving them deep once again. I clench around his fingers as he taunts me with the push and pull. I lift one leg and snake it around his waist, drawing him closer so I can slip my own hand into his pants. I fumble with the button, finally able to grasp his throbbing dick. I rub my finger over the tip, sliding the slick precum up and down his shaft as I stroke him.
He crushes his lips to mine once again, groaning against my mouth as I tighten my grip around him, running my hand up and down with increasing speed as my body quivers and trembles against him. The orgasm rips through me, paralyzing every movement to the point where I can’t even move because the rush is so intense.
And that’s just what his hands can do.
Holy hell, this is bad with a capital B.
When my eyes finally flutter open, I see the smug, satisfied look on his face. I let my leg fall back to the floor and pull down my dress, my short, sharp gasps making my chest quake. “So that was your plan all along? Pull me into a dark area and finger fuck me?”
He shrugs, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “It’s not like you stopped me.”
“Maybe I was due for a little release,” I grumble as he puts himself back together. I chew my bottom lip. And it was great, but I’m a little defeated, to be honest. He was able to make me come undone faster than I’d ever thought possible, and I just get a little pre-cum in exchange?
I wanted to see him unravel the way I just did.
The way I want to again.
The way I never will, though, because I’ve been here for far too long.
I put my hand against his chest and push him away from me. “Thanks for that,” I say, with a flip of my fake hair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to use the ladies’ room, the whole reason why I came back here in the first place.” I smirk at him. “See, I wasn’t actually trying to get off.”
“Shocker,” he murmurs, reaching around and grasping my ass. “I guess I had you pegged for a different girl.”
What in the hell is that supposed to mean?
He stands back and nods toward the door next to us. “I’ll be waiting.”
I allow my lips to curl upward in a seductive grin. Yes, sweetie, but you have no idea how long of a wait you’re in for. Then, I pull open the door and walk inside.
When the door closes, I quickly lock it. Thank God it’s a one-person restroom with a window, a fact Romeo may have wanted to check before he let me come in here. I guess he thinks if I come out with some kind of weapon he might have overlooked, he’ll be prepared because he’s in the offensive position standing out there like some kind of sexy AF bodyguard.
But I don’t plan on ever seeing him again.
I quickly pull off my wig and all of the hair pins that were keeping it in place, allowing my light blonde hair to tumble over my shoulders. Then I pluck out my colored contact lenses and strip off my dress and heels, shoving everything into the trash. I squint at my reflection in the mirror.
I open my bag and pull out my phone, eyeglasses, a rubber band, a pair of tiny Nike pro Spandex shorts, and a pair of mesh sneakers that I can literally roll up and stuff into my smallest bag. In less than a minute, I look like I’m just out for a brisk jog on this balmy summer evening in Brighton Beach.
Then I unlock the window and lift it slowly, giving myself just enough space to slip out of the room and into the darkness. Luckily, the side of the bar the bathrooms is on is a relatively quiet cross street, so nobody is there to witness me shimmy out of the place in basically glorified underwear. I look left and right, tighten my ponytail, and adjust my shorts before trotting down the street, away from Velvet Lounge away from Vigo and Tatiana, and away from the most erotic experience I never should have had in the first place.
It’s about damn time I closed the book on tonight.
My phone vibrates and I hold it to my ear. “Hi.”
“Anya,” Uncle Boris hisses into my ear. “Is it done?”
“Of course,” I say in a perky voice as I keep up my brisk pace.
“Good,” he replies. “It’s time to discuss the next part of your job. I’ll meet you at home.”
“Perfect, I’m on my way.”
I peek over my shoulder but I’m still by myself. And even if I wasn’t, I look nothing like the little tart who just got finger-fucked by a slick Italian guy who may or may not have been waiting to ice me back at the lounge.
“And be prepared. This one’s gonna take a little time,” he says gruffly. “You’ll need to pack a bag because you’re headed to Las Vegas in the morning.”