Page 52 of Bad for You

“Couldn’t sleep,” I reply bluntly, throwing the empty beer bottle into the trash. “Night.”

I attempt to walk past her, but she grips my wrist.

I exhale slowly because I don’t like being touched, and she knows this. She usually respects my space, but as I look at her, I know the plan I thought she was formulating is about to be put into play.

“You smell”—she searches for the right words but settles for something I’m certain she didn’t intend—“different.”

“I went for a run. I’m about to hit the shower.”

It’s a blunt hint, one she ignores.

“What happened to your face?”

“I ran into a door.”

Her lips twist into a smirk, but it’s akin to a spider as she watches her prey, trapped in her web, attempting to set itself free.

“I’ve taught you better than that. Sarcasm is a fool’s tool. If you have something to say, then say it.”

I snatch my arm back and glare at her. I only just realize that she’s wearing a sheer nightgown, and the moonlight shining into the large windows accentuates her bare form beneath.

The analogy of the spider suddenly is more accurate than I thought.

“I want to know where my brother is,” I say blankly, tired of her games. “I also want to know what exactly you want with Valentina.”

“I want the best for her. I want the best for you both.”

I scoff, unmoved by her lies.

“And the best for her is killing a man?”

Gianna brushes back her long hair.

She is beautiful. A femme fatale with her long black hair and red lips. I hate to admit it, but it’s the truth. But her ugliness on the inside overshadows any exterior beauty.

“I didn’t raise little crybabies. But perhaps I underestimated you.”

She’s baiting me, so I remain calm.

“You’re an adult now, Lenny. You can leave at any time. But you choose to stay. We both know why that is.”

There is a double meaning to her words.

I stay for Lewis.

But more so, I stay for Valentina.

“I do not know where your brother is.”

“Bullshit. You’re nothing but a fucking liar.”

She appears taken aback that I’ve spoken to her this way. I brace for her wrath, but what I get has me wondering if I’m fucking dreaming.

She steps forward and begins rubbing over the front of my jeans.

I slap her hand away, disgusted and horrified. “What thefuckare you doing?”

But she’s not deterred and grips my cock.

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