Page 127 of Corrupted Pleasure
“He looks kind of familiar,” she added, as she passed the phone to Juliette.
Juliette’s gasp had all of us looking at her. “What?”
“That’s the guy from Chicago,” Juliette whispered. “The blonde one.”
I blinked then snatched the phone from her. I recognized him the moment I saw the picture. The man wasn’t the type you could forget. Just like Wynter’s man and Dante DiLustro. Just like my husband. These were all unforgettable men. Not because they were gorgeous but because they exuded that raw power and ruthlessness.
“Are you sure?” Ivy questioned. “Granted, I only saw their arses in Chicago.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” she snapped. “I offered to let them both fuck me. At the same time. It’s not something you easily forget.”
Wynter slammed on the brakes in the middle of the bridge traffic. Ivy and Juliette gripped the headrests of the front seats or risked flying through the windshield. The same moment a blasting horn echoed from behind us.
“You what?” Wynter shrieked.
“Well, we said distract at all cost,” Juliette muttered. “So I distracted them. My boobs weren’t easily accessible in that dress I wore so I couldn’t just flash them.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled. So much for a good sign. “You couldn’t offer them drinks or something? You’re a damn virgin, how did you think you’d pull that one off?”
Juliette rolled her eyes. “It was all talk. I wasn’t seriously going to let them fuck me.”
“Fuck,” Wynter cursed. “If you did that, he’s sure to remember you.” Another blast of a horn and she stuck her hand out the window and flipped a bird to whoever was tooting their horn at us.
She resumed driving, muttering something under her breath.
“Say it clearly,” I groaned. “I have to hear what you’re saying.”
“Yeah, stop muttering like an old lady,” Juliette added.
“It’s the way she thinks best,” Ivy clarified, like we didn’t know.
Wynter shook her head. “First thing, when he saw me-”
“Who?” Juliette, Ivy, and I asked at the same time.
“This guy that owns this casino and runs Philadelphia… Priest,” she clarified. “Try to keep up.” The three of us rolled our eyes.
“Why do I get the feeling, Wynter will be a slave driver when we start this school? She’ll be whipping us all into shape, whether we like it or not,” Ivy muttered dryly.
Wynter glared at Ivy, but she ruined it with her smile. “Anyhow, when he saw me, he didn’t recognize me from Chicago.”
“When did he see you?” Juliette asked.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel. “That’s not the point right now,” Wynter finally continued. “It’s clear that Juliette was very successful at distracting the men in Chicago,” she concluded. “Which means we need to get Priest out of the city; otherwise, he’ll be suspicious if he sees you.”
“Is his name really Priest?” Ivy questioned.
Wynter shrugged. “No clue.”
“Is his name really important now?” I blurted out. “We have the entire plan laid out. This was supposed to be in-and-out. And now we have an unplanned obstacle. At the eleventh damn hour!”
Get to the club. Block the exit with the Jeep. Dance while waiting for a call to unblock the exit to the money truck. Follow the money truck to their scheduled refill gas station. Distract the two men while the other goes into the gas station. Ivy’s turn to seduce and possibly drug her victims. Then we steal the truck, and take the money. Voilà. Easy peasy.
“Umm, it’s actually only five in the afternoon,” Ivy muttered, never quite successful in overcoming the American slang or phrases.
“No need to panic, Davina,” Wynter interrupted my little panic attack.
