Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Calvino is a bastard and a mafia monster, even if it’s not technically in the mafia, and his whole family is kind of insane—except Charlie and the girls, and maybe Damon, and also Jason, so I guess just Vincent really—and I should be trying my best to stay far, far away.
And yet every time I think I can push my feelings aside, Calvino does something, whether he kisses me, or spanks my bare ass, or walks into the kitchen shirtless and glistening with sweat like a freaking god, or takes me to his brother so I can find my cousin’s killer—whatever he does, it draws me back.
He won’t let me go and it kills me, bit by tiny bit.
“Hey, yo, girl!” One of my customers, a drunk guy wearing a Harley t-shirt and a pair of cutoff jeans, waves at me frantically from up next to the stage. “Get your fucking ass over here!”
I sigh, gather the beer Dustin poured for me, and walk over. The club’s not too full for an early Friday evening, and while this guy’s kind of drunk and a bit more aggressive than most, he’s been decent about tipping.
“Sorry for the delay,” I say and place the beer down on his little table.
He reaches out and grabs my wrist as I pull back. “Now, girl, where you going? That dancer’s not holding my attention but you definitely are.” He shows teeth in a drunken smile and his grip tightens. “You look like a nice Irish lass. You got a pot of gold between those legs?”
“Sorry but I’m not for sale,” I say, staring at him flatly, doing my best you better fuck off right now, asshole look. And I’m pretty sure I’m not Irish but I doubt this asshole cares, all he can see are boobs and reddish hair.
“Ah, come on, I know how these places work. I got some money and you got some tits, so why don’t you give me a dance? Fuck slinging drinks, I’ll shower you in cash if you rub that sweet ass on my hard Johnson.”
“Please let go of my wrist,” I say, keeping as calm as I can, though it’s not easy when the creepy bastard’s talking about his Johnson.
“Don’t be like that.” He yanks me closer and I stumble, dropping my tray. It clatters onto the table and knocks his beer over, spilling it into his lap and all over his shoes.
He leaps up, cursing. “You clumsy little bitch,” he shouts, wiping beer off himself with his bare hands. Poor guy’s shitty jean shorts are slightly damp. I almost feel bad, but I don’t, not really. “Oh, fuck, look at what you did, you stupid little bitch!”
He reaches for me, violence and anger in his eyes, and for the first time since I came to work here, I feel a real sense of terror and impending doom. This guy is drunk and he’s unhinged and he thinks I just spilled that drink—and he’s going to make me pay for it.
But before he can do whatever he’s thinking, a guy looms up in my peripheral vision. “Is there a problem?”
I expected the bouncers, but instead it’s Diego. He’s towering over the customer, his square jaw working, his eyes hard.
The Harley-shirt guy looks back at Diego and sneers. “Yeah, I got a problem. This clumsy bitch waitress just spilled some beer in my lap. You gonna do anything about that, huh?”
“Yeah, I’ll do something.” Diego steps forward, grabs the guy by the throat, and throws him backwards with a sudden and ferocious violence.
The guy slams against the stage and hits the floor hard. He grunts and coughs, slowly getting to his knees as he stares at Diego.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Harley-shirt says. “Are you insane, man?”
“Get out of here,” Diego says and his voice sounds so calm it’s absolutely horrifying.
Harley-shirt guy climbs to his feet unsteadily. “Fucked up how you’d treat a customer. I should call the cops.”
“Call them. Please, I’m begging you, call the cops. I’d love them to come watch me beat your ass bloody.” Diego steps forward and Harley-shirt turns and sprints away. The guy stumbles, shoves past a group of laughing customers watching nearby, and hurries out the exit.
The club immediately goes back to watching Sunshine slowly twirl down the pole topless. She throws me a wink, good old Sunshine.
“You okay?” Diego asks, turning to me. “I notice our useless bouncer didn’t intervene again. I’ll have to talk to Calvino about that.”
“I’m fine, please don’t get anyone in trouble.”
Diego grunts and shakes his head. “I’ll clean this up. You go sit down and get yourself together, okay? Go grab a drink or some shit.”
I let out a little laugh. “Seriously?”
“Just go.” He nods at the bar and I walk over, head still a little dizzy from that interaction.