Shandi runs her hand up my chest, making a sound at the back of her throat that comes close to a purr. “Don’t I know it, baby. Come on. Let’s have some fun, huh?” She tries to push me back into the room so she can come inside but I anchor on, bracing one hand against the doorframe. “Now’s not really a good time, Shan. I have to find Sal.” To my credit, this is true.
Shandi doesn’t seem to care for my honesty, though. “You’ve bent me over and fucked me in there at least five times when I’ve had to go, Theo. I took a reaming from your dad last week when I was late, just so you could get your dick wet. It’s time to return the favor, okay?” She poses the last bit as a question, but aside from her voice going up at the end, it’s very clear she’s not really asking. She wants to get fucked right here and right now, and she’s determined to get her way.
She pushes harder against my chest, but I ain’t budging. When she realizes this she moves quickly, ducking under my arm and slipping into the storeroom beyond. I reach for her, grabbing for her arm, but it’s too late. She’s already inside.
“Shan, don’t—” I’m about to tell her not to make a scene, not to start screaming at me, asking who the random woman is sitting on the drum of olive oil, but I don’t need to. Because Gracie is gone.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
There are no windows in here. No trapdoors or secret exits. No way for Gracie to have physically made it out of the room. That means she must still be—
I see the white flash of her eyes in the darkness; she’s hiding between the wall and the five-tier shelving unit, cluttered with jars and pots of dried ingredients, clutching at her shoulder, like it’s hurting her or something. I can barely make out the dark line of her body. Smart woman. She knows she’s not getting out of here without getting shot, so no point trying to make a break for it. But she also knows that if she does manage to escape the storeroom, she’ll then find herself in the household of her enemy, and they won’t be as interested in keeping her alive as I am. I think I see her roll her eyes.
Shandi, god bless her blonde, unobservant heart, hasn’t noticed the figure lurking in the corner. Her back is to Gracie so that she’s facing me. And she’s unbuttoning her waitress’s shirt.
“Shan, I told you I don’t have time. Later, after shift.”
She pouts again, shaking her head. “But I want you now, baby. Why are you being so mean?” Her shirt’s unbuttoned all the way now. Stronger men than me have crumpled to her feet at the sight of that cleavage. I know as soon as she unfastens that bra and loses it altogether I’m in serious shit. I can’t let it happen. I pull the door to the storeroom closed and then take hold of her by the wrists. I can feel Gracie’s eyes burning into the side of my head, daring me to even touch this woman while she’s forced to watch.
The thought of that … the thought of her having to watch me fuck this insanely attractive yet very annoying woman? I’m not gonna lie. It appeals to me in ways I can’t even begin to describe. Gracie’s been nothing but a pain since the moment she sat that perfect little ass of hers down in the back of the Lincoln. Fucking Shan in front of her when she can do absolutely nothing about it would definitely be one way to teach her to fucking behave herself. I can’t justify wasting the time, though. Salvatore isn’t exactly known for making good choices. He could be neck deep in shit right now and me fucking with either one of these girls isn’t going to help matters.
“I told you. After shift, Shan.” I apply a little pressure to her wrists—a warning. I should know better than to expect her to take heed of it. Instead, she smiles, licking her lips and then biting down on the bottom one. She should have worked in porn. Who the fuck knows? She probably has at some point. “Baby, you’re making me angry,” she says in the same childish whimper she uses on my father when she wants to finish a shift early. “You don’t want to make me angry, do you? I run my mouth when I get angry. Say things I shouldn’t. I let things slip.”
My grip on her wrists tightens. “Don’t fuck around. If you’re trying to bribe me into sticking my dick into you, say it plainly. I don’t like fucking games.”
“Okay,” she says, a serious look marshaling her features. I can still feel the lust boiling underneath the surface, but she seems cooler now. More focused. “If you don’t screw me right now, I’ll tell Roberto about Clara.”
“Clara?” It feels like a stone weight is pulling at my insides, pulling me down, down, down. “What the fuck you mean, you’ll tell him about Clara?” Clara is the thirty-eight-year-old woman my sixty-seven-year-old father has been fucking the past few months. He’s obsessed with her, and Clara is obsessed with money. Their arrangement seems to work quite well, since Clara gives up her pussy at the very first sign of a dollar bill, and my father is rich as fuck. The woman is a viper, pure and simple. Both Sal and I steer well clear of her. Shan gives me a tease of a smile and I can practically hear the slow grind of the cogs turning in her head.
“Well, I’ll tell him you’ve been fucking her, of course.”