Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
I stare at all the boxes, feeling overwhelmed. I push one aside and start digging to find something to wear. I have always had a slight obsession with clothing; however, I am currently in dire need of getting out of this room. I’m more focused on finding any old thing to wear just for a taste of freedom.
“Oh my.” I hold up an emerald pair of silk panties. They’re beautiful, reminding me of my own eyes. Has he really picked this out for me? No, I think he paid someone to do that. I pull them on and find a cute white summery dress and a pair of gold flats. Just having different clothes perks me up a bit. I know it sounds ridiculous.
Checking myself over in the bathroom, I brush my hair out and quickly finish getting ready. When I open the bedroom door, Sal is standing there. He's not as tall as Matteo, but he's built like one of those bodybuilders. His plain black shirt is so snug, I think he might hulk out.
I freeze, remembering Matteo ordering me to stay put in the room. How pissed will he be? I’m guessing pretty pissed, but I honestly don’t give a crap.
“Are you going to stop me?” I ask, stepping out of the room. Sal doesn’t move. Nor does he respond. “Okay, then.” I start walking. When I get about ten feet down the hallway, I peek over my shoulder to see that he’s following behind me.
It’s not until I make it downstairs to the white marble entryway that I realize I don’t know where the kitchen is. I would ask Sal, but he’s not talking to me.
“Do you know where the kitchen is?” I ask another man standing by the entryway. I swear he stares right through me. I guess the hate for my family runs deep around here. I can’t say I blame them. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, the red standing out against my white dress, reminding everyone who I am.
An O’Haire. I don’t belong, and I never will.
7
MATTEO
Vincent is far too predictable. I knew he wouldn’t be able to tuck himself away in his father’s home for long. He’s got a thing for strippers and cocaine. Why else would he be at a strip club in the afternoon?
The place is surprisingly busy when we enter. The parking lot was half empty. The sound of music thumps softly in the background. I glance around the room and notice that everyone's attention is focused on the stages around us. The men are in a trance. It’s pathetic, but I’m not one to talk. I’m slowly sinking into my own vice, one with fiery red hair and green eyes that cut through me.
Each night, I can’t stay away. I promise myself I will, but I don’t. I’ve been able to keep it to only a taste of her but my self-restraint is slowly slipping. My body craves her. I want to feel her tight little cunt wrapped around my cock again. Thank God the lights are off when I go to her. I wouldn’t survive her if they weren’t. If I had to stare into those emerald eyes, I’d get lost. I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but it’s the only way I’m still holding on to not letting her get too close.
I don’t stop to talk to anyone. I know Vincent isn’t going to be out here in the main room. Even though that’s his usual style, to throw money around, trying to be a big shot, but today he doesn’t want his daddy to find out he snuck out. It doesn’t matter. I am going to get to Vincent one way or another. No one can hide forever.
Sergio already told me where the back rooms are. He was the one who got the tip. I’m sure he’ll hand over a few grand to one of the girls here for her cooperation. I spot the door with the number two, throwing it open.
The two half-naked girls all over him have wide eyes, but they merely jump up. I step back, giving them room to get past me.
“Matteo, man.” He stands. Not for long. I strike him with a blow to the kidney, causing him to fall over. He groans. “I haven't done anything,” Vincent says around coughing. I grab him by the hair, pulling him back to his feet, and push him into the chair.
“Are you sure about that?” Vincent's bloodshot eyes widen, and his pupils are full-blown. I’m guessing he’s done more than a few lines of coke on top of the alcohol.
“I don’t think I’ve done anything.”
“Mona.” This piece of shit doesn’t even deserve to hear her name.
“You can have her!” I jerk his head all the way back, pulling out my knife and pressing it to his throat. There’s nothing more I want to do than slice him from ear to ear and watch him bleed out. His response shouldn’t piss me off, but it does. Of course, I can have her. I wasn’t asking. Never would. Especially not from some lowlife, wanna be gangster like Vincent. Still, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that he’d so easily let her go, but she has me now. He’s not worthy.