Page 5 of Claimed By the Boss

Gino stands on the other side, his cheeks red from the early morning chill. He wears a baseball cap pushed back on his head, and a hoodie under a brown leather jacket.

I hover in the narrow opening, worried that he woke my neighbors. “Gino, what are you doing here?”

He flashes a gold-toothed smile. “I’m here to pick up what you owe me.”

Anxiety curdles my insides. “It’s not the fifteenth yet.”

“Are you talking back to me?” Gino shoves a large hand against the door, sending me stumbling backward.

My heels catch on the mattress, and I fall onto it.

He strolls into my apartment, his lip curled with disgust. “God, you live like a rat in this trash pile.”

Shame heats my cheeks. “It’s all I can afford.”

He stomps to my freezer and opens it. When he finds nothing but an ice tray inside, he grabs the can of coffee that sits on top and dumps the precious grounds into the sink in search of stashed cash.

Annoyed, he turns to stare down at me. “Where are you hiding your cash? If you make me search the whole place for it, I won’t be happy.”

“I don’t have any stashes.” I push myself back to my feet. “Everything I have goes to you and rent.”

His eyes gleam. “That means you have something for rent. Where is it?”

My hands clench in helpless fear. “It’s not the fifteen?—”

The blow catches me on the side of the head, pain exploding through my skull. I crash back to the mattress, my ears ringing.

Gino crouches next to me. “Since you seem to have forgotten, let me give you a reminder. You owe me money, which means anything you have is mine. Understand?”

Cupping my throbbing head, I point to the large flashlight in the plastic crate with my work uniforms, where I stash my cash until I pay rent.

“That’s more like it.” Gino grabs it and untwists the battery cap.

He pulls out the roll of bills, counts them, and grunts with dissatisfaction. “This all of it?”

Tears sting my eyes. “Yeah.”

Not believing me, he grabs my jacket and searches the pockets. He finds my wallet first, tossing the few cards I own onto the floor and checking all the pockets where cash could be hidden before throwing it onto the bed beside me.

He pulls my pill case out of my jacket next, pops it open, and takes the two doses of suppressants inside. “Guess I can get a few bucks for these.”

“But I need?—”

I cut off when he raises his hand in threat.

He pockets the cash and the pills before throwing my jacket at me. “You’re lucky this isn’t worth selling, too.”

I clutch the thin material to my chest as he stomps to the door.

“See you on the fifteenth, Leo.” With a wave, he stomps out the door, leaving it open.

On trembling hands and knees, I crawl across the mattress and reach out to shut it. Only once the lock slides into place do the tears fall.

3

My face throbs and my stomach aches with hunger when I trudge into the Velvet Oasis that night. The spoonful of peanut butter I choked down before heading out to work did nothing to appease the ache of too little food.

The smell of the club makes my gritty eyes burn worse than usual with a combination of body oil, smoke, booze, and pheromones. Without a suppressant, today will be rough.

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