Page 58 of Stabby Little

I've never willingly fantasized about anyone but Grant—but this mystery man drives me crazy.

I'm picking up a T-shirt to mop up my cum when my bedroom door swings open.

“Ollie?” Finn's voice echoes throughout the space. “Are you in there?”

I sink into my pillow. “I locked my bedroom door. How did you get in here?”

Finn’s eyes widen when he sees me sprawled out on my sheets.

He crosses the room and glares at me. “The locks on these doors are shitty as hell in this apartment. Is that Sparrow's dildo?”

I hide behind my hands. “I plead the fifth.”

“You can't use his sex toys.” Finn issues me the dirtiest look ever. “He paid for this.”

I gesture to my naked body. “I needed to get over my fear of anal sex. He'll understand.”

Finn grabs my T-shirt and mops my cum from my belly. “Who were you fantasizing about?”

“My mystery man from the Little Bunny Club. Who else?”

Finn grins. “He sounds so hot.”

Tell me about it, sister.

“I really want to see him again,” I confess. “But I can't go back for another two weeks.”

“Why can't you go back next weekend?” Finn furrows his brow.

“It's Zaire Diavolo's daughter Tiffy's wedding. I'm breaking in.”

“How?”

I smirk. “I have a plan.”

19

OLLIE

Wednesday, May 27th

Crystal Diavolo.Anton's daughter. Tiffy's cousin.

I step into the coffee shop and adjust my hat. I'm meeting Crystal any minute. Technically, I didn't arrange our meeting beforehand. Last night, I pulled up every social media profile she had and figured she'd be here.

She visits this coffee shop in between classes at CUNY. I assumed she attended Columbia or another fancy school like NYU because she's a mob boss's daughter, but that wasn't the case. She's an anthropology major which means she's definitely not getting a corporate job after she graduates.

I rehearsed the character I'd play countless times before I went to sleep last night. I visited a new special effects prosthetics shop in Brooklyn to adopt a different disguise.

I definitely couldn't use the one from Rock. I don't know if anyone saw me enter the bathroom with Xavier Sanchez, but it's too risky. After all, Rock's a hotbed for sex traffickers, and if anyone recognizes me from the security camera footage in a blond wig, I’m fucked. Considering that I need to stay alive during Tiffy's wedding, I chose a different disguise.

My new fake name is Trevor. A long, black wig falls to my neck and touches my collarbone. A prosthetic nose sits on my face, scratchy and annoying as hell. I wear wire-rimmed glasses that look like an adult version of the ones Daniel Radcliffe used inHarry Potter,not the wayfarer frames Kobe uses. A clip-on stud “pierces" my left nostril, giving me the look of someone who doesn't care what others think. I planned to skip the fake piercing because it cost twenty-five dollars—it's cubic zirconium—but it'll capture the Diavolos' attention in a good way. They'll be so focused on my ugly piercing they won't recognize me.

I also put in bright green contacts. When I was at the special effects shop, I figured it was a step too far to waste money on them. But when I tried on the glasses in the mirror, I knew I'd be a fool not to. The Diavolos likely have my blue eyes on file; I know the security cameras in the warehouse basement captured my every move. If my eyes are green when we meet at the wedding, I'll escape excessive scrutiny.

Time to put this plan into action.

Adjusting my ocher T-shirt with a grungy picture of the Empire State building, I walk to the far end of the coffee shop to locate Crystal.

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