Page 89 of Pitiful Lies

Coming up on our own was a long, grueling battle. But together, we did what we set out to do. We took over the neighborhood, and ever since then, we’ve been expanding.

Maybe our corner of the world is better for it. Maybe to some it’s not. But I don’t worry about that.

The point is, I am a Viper.

Lethal.

Cunning.

Powerful.

And full of fucking venom.

I don’t trust Giovanna. The blonde woman has a sneaky sort of aura about her. And I really don’t like her manhandling my woman.

Still, I won’t cause a scene here. Not yet, anyway. I just follow where Giovanna is leading my Koukla.

My thoughts stray, and I think about the way Sisi tensed right before Giovanna reached us. How she was probably recalling seeing the skinny blonde on my lap.

As if I wanted her there.

But I understand why Giselle jumped to the conclusions she did, no matter how off base they were.

And I get mad.

I think about how my Little Doll cut me off from calling her mine when I made the introductions.

And that increases my ire.

I don’t like that. Not one bit.

If Giselle tries to deny my claim on her by ignoring it, then I am going to have to do something she can’t ignore. Something no one can refute.

My pulse is racing, but my eyes are wandering over her supple body in that fucking dress and I grind my teeth.

The thin fabric does nothing to hide the sway of her plump ass as she walks, or the rise and fall of her magnificent tits that is inevitable with every breath she takes.

It’s not her fault. She’s built like a goddess. And I love how she looks.

But she’s mine to look at. No one else’s.

I think about how Nico killed a man for looking at his woman, and I wonder if it’s possible to clean up an entire fucking ballroom full of bodies because if I catch one more person’s gaze on my Koukla for longer than is acceptable, I might just kill every last motherfucker here.

Then, I wonder what she might think if she knew all this. Giselle doesn’t know how I feel, the insane thoughts rattling around my head, because I keep that shit close to the chest.

But so does she, I realize. She doesn’t tell me everything she’s thinking, and I want her to.

That sort of thing only comes with trust.

I can make her trust me. Believe in me. All I need is time.

I wonder if maybe my Koukla is having the same thoughts I’ve been having for days. And I have been having some seriously deep thoughts.

But maybe she’s also wondering what to call herself in connection with me.

Now, I’m mad at myself.

But I’m not sure what the solution is.

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