Page 8 of Ruthless King
The hiss of metal grinding across the teeth of his zipper sends goosebumps racing down my back. I shake my head, black encroaching into my vision. I’d never survive. “A week,” I counter.
“Your tight little pussy isn’t worth twenty-five k, Stel. The whole summer.” He tugs his cock from his pants, and nausea claws up my throat at the pale, veiny thing. “Today will be day one.”
Oh, God, I can’t do this. I swallow hard, the idea of sucking him off sending tremors up my spine. If I did this, I’d be no better than the Canal Streetputtanathat Mrs. D. is always warning me of.
The front door whips open, the sharp jingle sending my heart catapulting up my throat, and three large males fill the red-rimmed doorway. A sea of black suits and matching crimson pocket squares. I leap to my feet barely able to get my stilettos out from under me as the three dark-haired males eye me.
Bo slips his dick back into his pants, and I exhale a sigh of relief. Saved by the freakin’ bell.
“Leave, pretty girl,” says the taller one whose chest reminds me of a wine barrel. “We’ve got business to discuss.”
“No problem,” I mumble as I race to the door.
“Stella, wait,” Bo barks.
With one hand on the doorknob, I cant my head over my shoulder and school my lips into something resembling a smile.
“If you still want to take me up on the deal,” he calls out, “come back tonight.”
I force my head to bob up and down despite every bone in my body wanting to spit in his face. Then I race out the door whispering a dozen Hail Mary’s and thanking all the saints that those thugs had shown up.
CHAPTER5
WHAT’S THE WORSE THEY COULD DO?
Stella – A Week Later
Peering out onto Mulberry Street from behind the flimsy curtain, I huff out a breath. I’m not going to be able to hide from Bo forever. Plus, thepezzo di merdaonly extended my service of indenture when I told him I was deathly ill. It wasn’t entirely a lie. The idea of physically being with him did make me want to vomit.
But a week off work is more than we can afford, especially right now. Which means, I’m going to have to come out of hiding. With any luck, I’ll be able to avoid Bo today between classes and my shift atNonna Maria’s.
My mind flickers back to a man I met at the café nearly a week ago. He’d left me a fifty-dollar tip which had bought us groceries for the week. It was the only reason I’d been able to take the time off. A pair of dark eyes flash across my vision, and my stomach lurches. For a second, I could’ve sworn I’d met him before. There was something so familiar about his touch, those eyes, that penetrating gaze that seared right through the ridiculous oversized hat and sunglasses I’d worn to hide from Bo.
Pazza. That’s what Mrs. D would say. I’m going crazy.
Pulling the curtain across the window, I eye my phone on the bed. A string of unanswered text messages awaits. Who am I kidding? There’s no way I’m getting out of this thing with Bo. Is my virtue worth twenty-five thousand dollars? I’m starting to think no.
There’s only one text message I do answer. The one from my best friend, Rose. She’s been in Long Island for the week visiting her mom. A part of me is happy she’s missing out on all the drama with Bo. She’d kill me if she knew what I was considering after all I went through to escape him.
“Hey, Stella, are you feeling better yet?” Dad’s voice seeps through the makeshift wall separating my bedroom from the tiny living room.
Instead of telling my father the truth, I’d resorted to lying to him too. My father wasn’t a great man, but I didn’t think he’d approve of me selling my body to pay off his debt. “Yeah, Dad. I’m going back to work today.”
He pokes his head around the plaster barrier, eyes bloodshot. Dragging his hand over the back of his neck, he smiles sheepishly. “Oh good. Because I’ve got to start paying back that loan—” He smothers the rest of his words, burying his face in his hands.
Cazzo. Bo probably has his goons harassing Dad because I haven’t upheld my end of the bargain. “What’s the new payment schedule you worked out?”
His eyes dart down to the floor. “Two grand a month.”
“Two grand?” I shriek.
And still, it would take over a year to pay it off. Not to mention the interest. Dammit, I’m really going to have to do this. I’d have to submit to Bo’s depraved fantasies to get us out of this debt. Worse, I’d have to delay my move to Florida until the end of the summer.
“Get out … please,” I add after a beat. “I need to get dressed.”
“Sure, honey, I’ll get out of your hair.” Only he doesn’t move.
“What?”
