Page 52 of Killer Kiss

She smiled at me sweetly. “No. But he does like to fuck his girlfriend in front of me.”

My mouth dropped open in unison with the reporter’s.

“Excuse me?” the woman choked out.

Ophelia just carried on smiling like the complete and utter psychopath she was, zero fucks given that she was broadcasting our personal life to a random stranger.

The thought tripped me up. Since when did I share a personal life with this woman?

Since when did women throw me off my game the way she did? It was incredibly confusing. So much so I indicated for the reporter to take a seat just to distract myself. “Ignore her,” I said stiffly. “Her doctor needs to change her medication.”

Ophelia’s fake-innocence smile went back to lips pressed into a thin line and daggers for eyes.

I settled back in my seat, much more comfortable now that I was back in control. I focused on the reporter. “What do you want to know about Fawn?”

The woman set her phone down on the table between us and opened a recorder app. She pressed another button to get it going then folded her hands in front of her. “Okay, so what I’d like to focus on first is who Fawn is, what she likes to do, and the relationships between the two of you.”

“I have no relationship with him,” Ophelia said quickly.

The reporter cleared her throat. “I meant your relationship with Fawn.”

I smirked as Ophelia’s cheeks went pink and she let out a little, “Oh.”

“I worked with her,” I volunteered, focusing on the reporter.

She nodded, jotting something down on a yellow legal pad. “Where at and for how long?”

I couldn’t really remember when Fawn had first appeared on the doorstep of the club. “A year? Two? Maybe more? I can’t remember. We work at Saint View Strip Club.”

The woman glanced up from her notes. “And your roles there are…”

I frowned. “Well, as the name suggests, we aren’t there to teach kindergarten.”

The woman blushed. “Well, no, I mean, you’re both…”

An irritation spread across the back of my neck. “You can say it. Strippers. We take our clothes off and dance. For money. That is generally what someone does when they say they work at a strip club.”

Robyn ducked her head and scribbled something incoherent across her pad. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize your friend was involved in…the adult entertainment industry.”

That slow spread of irritation turned into flat-out anger. I’d seen this before. Where I told someone I was a stripper and they automatically assumed I was a prostitute or a porn star as well. Which in my case, was true, minus the movie camera pointed at me, so whatever. But it pissed me off when people made assumptions. Especially when those assumptions were made about Fawn.

Fawn had struggled finding the self-confidence to even dance on stage in the beginning. It was only that Eve, Lyric, Phoenix, and I had spent countless hours with her, building her up, making sure she was comfortable, and teaching her everything we’d all learned the hard way.

She was so fucking likable, she just made you want to take care of her.

Even now when she wasn’t here. Maybe now more than ever.

I opened my mouth to spit back a sharp response.

Ophelia beat me to it. “She’s a stripper, Robyn. She’s not running a child labor camp or trafficking women from third-world countries. You don’t have to act so horrified.”

I couldn’t help the impulse to high-five her.

Or kiss her.

She had to stop getting pissed off around me ’cause it did nothing good for the urge to sit her up on this booth, spread her legs, and lick her pussy until she screamed my name.

Fuck.

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