Page 59 of His Passerotta

I don’t know, though, she’s kind of cute. And funny.

“Thanks. I do makeup as a side gig so try to look the part when I work customer service. If I see an engagement ring, I start talking myself up.”

“Ha. Smart. Does it work?”

I shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Hey!” Her eyes get wide, and the gum nearly falls out of her mouth when she opens it. “You should do my makeup for the back-to-school dance!”

I smile politely while thinking through a way to turn her down. She’s a kid who wanted to haggle with me over a pair of sunglasses. There’s no way I’m negotiating prices while hanging out in her messy bedroom with teenage girl posters all over the wall.

“Oh, I don’t do it much anymore,” I say. “I’ve been busy lately.”

“You have to!” She bounces on her toes, propping the sunglasses on her blonde head so she can interlace her fingers as a dramatic beg, her bottom lip poking out for effect. “I’m a freshman, and this is the first dance of the year. First impressions mean sooo much, and you could make me look fucking fire.”

“You’re beautiful right now. Trust me, you don’t need a bunch of gunk to cake on to look pretty. You’re young. Your skin is flawless.”

“Come on, please? I can pay whatever you charge. Just name the price.”

You mean Daddy can pay me.

Hm. Not a bad idea.

“One hundred is what I usually charge,” I sheepishly say, but all of a sudden I’m hoping this works out. A hundred bucks to make flawless skin look flawless? Hell yeah.

“Done!” She whips out her phone, tapping the screen several times before handing it over to me to put my contact in.

“I’m Anya, by the way.”

I smile while inputting my information. “Bailey. It’s nice to meet you.”

I hold out the phone, and she snatches it before sliding it into her back pocket. “Gah, I’m so excited! There’s this guy a grade above me, Mack, who is soo fucking fine, and I’ve been too chicken shit to talk to him even though we hang out in the same group. It’s kind of weird because he has the same name as my brother, but other than that, he is perfect. My friend Lyla made a bet with me that I won’t ask him to the dance, but now? I don’t know, maybe I will.” She bites her lip and lifts her shoulders like her excitement is literally pulling her up.

“Well, I think you’ll have an awesome time, regardless of if you go with a date. If you ask me, guys are overrated.”

“The only people who say that are people who can’t get dates.” She snorts. “Don’t bullshit me. You’ve probably had a million boyfriends.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point.”

“Hey.”

Both our heads turn toward the angry, deep voice at the same time, and when I see who it belongs to, I feel the blood drain from my face.

No.

Oh my God.

Maksim glares as his heavy footsteps sound our way, and I bump into the stand, knocking a pair of glasses off the rack. Anya notices and bends to swipe them up before putting them back, not at all concerned about the walking hurricane headed our way.

He wouldn’t do anything, would he? It isn’t busy in the mall, but it’s still a mall. There are people around, this girl included. Panicked, I turn to Anya, ready to tell her to go before Maksim can do … whatever he’s going to do. Hell, he’s mob. Maybe he’ll just throw me over his shoulder and storm me out of here.

“You were supposed to meet me in the food court twenty minutes ago. What the fuck?” he asks, his Russian accent somehow making him sound more pissed than he probably is.

I turn back to him, paralyzing fear thawing with confusion.

“You’re the one who wanted to split up. If you were more confident in yourself as a man, you would’ve just gone into Victoria Secret with me.”

“I wasn’t taking my baby sister to buy whore underwear.”

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