Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
The irony of the fact that I just basically bonded her to me emotionally by demanding her submission and rewarding her for it isn’t lost on me. I’m a stronzo, for sure.
But maybe she reached out for another reason. Maybe she needed something from me. My protective instincts surge into high gear at that thought.
“Do you need something from me, baby?” I stroke her smooth, soft skin. “Is that why you called me? Do you need money?”
Her eyes fill with tears, which she blinks back. “God,” she chokes. “How do you that?”
So I guessed correctly. I shrug. “In my business, you have to have a good read on people.”
“I do need money,” she whispers, gulping. “That’s not why I called, though. I wasn’t even going to ask you for it…at least, I hadn’t decided whether I should or not.”
I wish to fuck I’d asked sooner if she had other troubles. I’d assumed I’d taken care of her immediate problems with the landlord and getting her things back, but clearly she has other stressors.
“No, no, baby,” I reassure her. “You belong to me. That means I take care of you. You can call me when you need help. Just not at home.”
Lexi starts to tremble in my arms, holding back tears.
“Don’t cry, bambi. How much do you need? What’s going on?”
She ducks her chin, pressing her forehead against my chest as the tears emerge. “I owe rent at the salon. I’m not an employee there, I just rent the chair. I’m way behind on rent, and the owner told me if I don’t pay by the end of the month, I’m out. I guess this isn’t my week.”
“Aw, sweetheart. I wish I’d known.” I caress her back, the natural curve sensuous under my palm. “How much?”
“Twenty-five hundred.”
Chump change. I should’ve left that much for her the last time I saw her. I kiss the place her ear meets her face, then her temple. “I’ll take care of it,” I murmur.
Lexi
Tears of relief squeeze out of the corners of my eyes. “Thank you.”
Bobby runs his hand up and down my back. “It’s my pleasure. You’re my girl. I’ll take care of your problem. Besides, I like having you owe me.”
I narrow my eyes with mock suspicion. “What exactly will I owe you?”
Bobby grins. “What do you have to offer?”
I laugh. “Not much. A lifetime’s worth of free haircuts?”
“Hmm.”
“How about anal?”
He laughs, cupping my ass and squeezing it. He draws his finger up my crack, making me squirm as he nears my back hole. “This hot little body already belongs to me. Doesn’t it, sweetheart?”
I rub my clit over his thick muscular thigh, his words making me ache. “Yes.”
“I might collect on a haircut or two.”
I snuggle against him. Am I crazy for feeling so warm toward a man who just took his belt to my ass? Possibly.
“I’m not judging you–at all, baby–but how did you get so far behind financially?”
I sag. “A car t-boned mine last fall. I ended up in the hospital with a concussion and knee surgery. I couldn’t work for weeks, and I didn’t have health insurance, so the hospital bills cost me thirty grand.”
“Ah. That’s why you get so nervous in the car?”
I exhale. “Yeah. I couldn’t afford to buy a new car, and so I guess I didn’t get back on the horse soon enough because now I can’t stand to be in one.”
“Sounds like PTSD. I know someone who can help you release that pretty quickly, if you want.”
I look up at him, trying to gauge whether he’s serious.
He shrugs. “What? I’ve had shit I had to work through.”
I lean up on my elbow and trail my nails through the hair on his chest. “You did?” I want to know more about this man. I know he said the Family business is off-limits as a topic, but I’d take any crumbs about him or his personal life. He’s a total mystery to me.
“Yeah.” He looks up at the ceiling. He’s quiet so long I think that’s all he’s going to say, but then he says, “My dad was gunned down in front of me when I was sixteen.”
I silence my gasp, hold my breath to give him the space to share more.
“I, uh, had to take care of the situation myself.”
My heart pounds in my chest, aching for his teenage self, thrown into battle at such a young age. “Do you mean…” I hesitate because I know he gets edgy about questions. I never want him to think I’m an informer or that I would turn on him with information I have.
He nods. “I took care of his killer.”
That’s what I thought he meant. I hold in the sob that chokes my throat for him.
“So I became a made man at sixteen.”
Made man. My mind shuffles through the mafia lore I’ve learned from television and movies. They become made men after killing someone, I think.