? Mi Gente - J Balvin & Willy Willam ?
“Willow, be a doll and fetch Rome another beer, will you?” Vic said to the petite redhead perched contentedly on his lap.
With a swift slap to her ass, she was on her feet, scampering off inside the yacht’s cabin to fulfill Vic’s demand.
I shook my head as he glanced my way, his lips curving in an amused smirk.
“What?” he asked candidly, taking another sip from his Corona.
“She’s not a dog,” I answered.
“I’m fully aware.”
“And yet you treat her like one.”
“She likes it.” He shrugged, relaxing further into the hazel wood leathered cushions lining the perimeter of the stern. “Well, she likes the money.”
“So that warrants you to treat her like your personal slave?” I quizzed.
“When I take such good care of her? Yes, it’s part of the trade-off.”
“Trade-off?” A sarcastic laugh shot out from my nose. “How about you just treat her with mutual respect instead? Would that be so difficult?”
“I do respect her, with my cock in her mouth,” he snickered.
I couldn’t help but look at him in complete and utter shock. His mum would knock him over the head with a frying pan if she heard him. Mine would’ve, too.
Don’t get me wrong, I did my fair share of fucking around with different women on a pretty regular basis, but I respected them.
Unless they warranted a reason otherwise, that is.
Act like a slut, get treated like a slut.
Vic used to operate the same. As an army brat, it’d been engrained in his mind. Respecting women was a cardinal rule in their home, just as it was in mine. Our families were vastly different, but that was the same. Sure, my mum might’ve danced to make a living, but she never brought strange men home, except for the two who were serious. Not only did she want to set a good example for me, she wanted to set one for my little sister as well. As a single mother, she had to work twice as hard, had to play both roles in a child’s life.
“I liked you better when you weren’t so uptight and pissy,” Vic said suddenly, pulling me out from a place I didn’t like revisiting too often.
“What are you going on about now?” I sighed, scrubbing a hand down my face to rid my mind of that bloodied image.
“You and your perpetually ticked state. You seem as bitter toward me as you are about—”
I held a hand up to shut him down. We were not about to talk about my ex.
“What the hell is going on with you?” he bit out. “Are you still mad about—”
Again I held a hand up. Wasn’t up for discussion. No matter how he worded it or tried to get around it, we were not talking about Liza.
Not now, not ever.
End of story.
Just the thought of her made me resentful.
“Nothing to do with you,” I lied, catching wind of Willow emerging from the cabin with an enamored smile on her face.
Thank you, Willow.
The perfect distraction.