Page 6 of Black Jack (Advantage Play 5)

“I found you a husband.”

My eyes widen before I cover it with indifference. “In a dank basement? How thoughtful.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are. Who is it this time?” I scan the empty room as if my fiancé is hiding somewhere. “Hello? Future husband? Would you like me to suck you off here or––”

“Stop being a bitch, Bianca.”

“Then stop wasting my time,” I return. “You’ve been dangling marriage over my head for so long that I realized I don’t need a man. In fact, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but all men are assholes.”

“You should be happy I finally found someone to marry your sorry ass.”

“And I’m sure I would be, if it weren’t a lie.”

“It isn’t a lie.”

“Then who?” I challenge with my hip popped on one side. “Who’s the lucky guy? And why now?”

“You said you were done with the business.”

“You mean whoring myself out?” I laugh, dryly. “Ya know, since my pimp died, I guess things have been a little slow.”

“I told you that Burlone isn’t the only one who could find clients––”

“Stop,” I grit out, hating the way my skin crawls at the memories. I raise my chin and look him straight in the eye. “I told you I was done.”

“Which is why I found you a spouse.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

I know that look. The one that says no matter how hard I push him, no matter how desperately I beg, he won’t answer me. It makes me feel like a little girl. Like an inconsequential object to be used at someone else’s disposal. Like a pawn. And I hate it.

Licking my lips, I drop the subject and try a different tactic. Because even though he’s not willing to answer that particular question, I can still piece together the puzzle and figure out what his plan is if I can keep him talking.

“Who is he, Dom?” I ask.

“Your husband?”

“Yes.”

“His name is Jack Connelly.”

When you’ve whored yourself out for almost a decade, you become very familiar with people, but the name doesn’t ring a bell.

“I don’t know that name,” I admit, my brows pinched.

“I’m not surprised,” he returns with a shrug. “He’s a Fed.”

What?!

“You’re joking.”

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