True. But Luca hates me, and his feelings are utterly reciprocated.
Me:
Come on!
Rami:
Mystical, magical word…
Me:
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Rami:
Have a nice, short life
Me:
Sorry *poop emoji*
Rami:
Translation… Reluctant apologies from a shitty person. You are lucky I’m in a good mood
Rami:
Should I look at this Doppi fellow as in the killer?
Me:
Or not
Rami:
Okay, I need some time, though. And you owe me now
I fucking do.
I hurriedly stuff the phone inside my panties—making sure the silence mode is on—just as the bedroom door opens.
Luca comes out exuding confidence and pissed-off vibes. He goes to get a slim cigar from his jacket and lights it up. Those huge arms of his easily slide the window open—the one I tried to escape from—then his body turns my way.
If looks could kill, I’d be a bloody, pulpy mess splattered all over thisLegosofa. Leones and Enzinos have been at each other’s throats for decades while pretending to get along. But this? This is personal for wacko here. I can see it in the hard line of his mouth and the tension in his shoulders.
What did Mario do to him? It could be a number of his favorite pastimes: torturing, killing, blackmailing, stealing.
I’m royally fucked.
Luca puts the cigar between his lips and takes a long, slow drag while making his way toward me. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. With his damp hair falling around his face, he looks like my fucking type: big and rough. Still, he’s a sadistic brute with a blood thirst for Enzinos—and really thick eyebrows. It’s going to be so fucking satisfying to have him beg forit. Turning straight guys ismyfavorite pastime.
I spread my legs slowly and lift the vodka bottle to take another sip. “I’m hungry.”
“Being kidnapped make you feel peckish?” He gives me a cold stare.
“I always feel sneaky.” I shrug.
“Sneaky?”