Page 5 of Dirty Mafia King
She flinches. Gullible, and lost. And, like me, broken, so, so broken.
“He’ll probably sell it,” I stress.
“Frankie wanted it for his own use. A memory of our time together. He said it fulfilled his biggest fantasy of filming himself having sex with a hot girl.”
“Let’s hope it’s not the gift that keeps giving.”
Her spine straightens. “Maybe we’ll watch it later.”
She says it to shock me.
If she took the time to meet the new me, she’d know better. Because, deep within and locked away with a hidden key, I harbor a secret. A highly guardedobsession.
With art films … Okay, woman porn.
Featuring Roman gladiators, pirates, billionaires, mafia bosses—any dominant alpha male, really. Dark romance novels translated to film.Fifty Shades of Grey, but kinkier and more graphic. It’s my secret thrill. What fires up my mind, feeds my active imagination, and gets me off.
That’s right.
Me, a twenty-year-old woman too shy to even kiss a man.
“A prude like you wouldn’t know this, but thousands of new videos circulate every day. Even if he publishes it, what does it matter? The video shows my face, like, three times. I’m an anonymous woman in a foreign country. I could be anyone.” She prepares to charge off. “Trust me, no one will care.”
“You’re the daughter of the future governor of New York. Dignity. Decorum. And beyond reproach—remember what Father said?”
“Potato, potahto.”
“Burnt potatoes, after Father’s political rivals discover a way to fry him—”
She cuts me off. “What are your plans for tonight?”
I frown. “Um…”
“Exactly.”
“What?”
“Frankie’s on his way.” Her expression changes to a vicious look I recognize. “You’re pathetic, you know that?”
I draw in an angry breath. “Nothing good can come of that video. Make him delete it.”
Her jaw tightens, and in that moment, not a trace of our mother can be found. I’ve lost my sister, too, haven’t I?
“Have fun watching paint peel off the villa walls.” She spins on her heel and stalks away. But not before snickering a parting blow.
“Stay out of trouble tonight, Sissy.”
CHAPTER3
ALESSIA
Ihead down the hallway with a full ice bucket and a heavy heart, to a room with walls covered with decorative wallpaper, and with so very little paint to occupy my time.
As if.
With a sigh, I raise my key to the door.
“Spread your legs.”
