Playette
She prances over to Ace, and he grabs hold of her waist.
I watch and Ace smiles at me. “Do you care, pink?” Ace asks me.
Jasper grunts next and I turn back to look at him. “Do you?” I shake my head. “I’ll tell him to be gentle with her, if you’re good.”
I knew the world I was destined to enter wouldn’t be all rainbows and pretty colors. These boys own this town, they kill, which they do easily and not one of them has been locked up for their actions. They are excellent in covering their tracks and leaving no trace behind. They’re essentially their own gods. Businesses pay them commission for keeping them safe, that is if they don’t they take their businesses away from them first.
You don’t fuck with the Moretti Mafia, they fuck with you, and they don’t care how much.
“You will be taking that silly wig off, too,” Jasper says as we step outside, the cold air hits my skin and I shiver. The guys slide into their own car while we slip into Jasper’s.
“Where have you been?” I ask as he presses the ignition and it starts the car. Jasper pulls out and I already know where he’s going—to that mansion. My bag sits on my lap with my baggie inside. And it’s making me all kinds of elated, but also trepidation is raging inside me. I plan to use it again tonight.
On him? I’m not sure.
“I’ve been digging, we lost one of our own recently.” He turns to look at me.
“I was there,” I say referring to the night they found him.
Jasper changes gears in the car, and honestly, it’s damn hot watching him.
“I heard. Why were you there?” he asks, dropping down a gear.
“Ace took me.”
“Are you a whore, Isadora?”
Fucking hell, he doesn’t mince his damn words.
“Do you want me to be a whore?”
He smirks pulling into the driveway I remember, but he doesn’t stop out the front like everyone else does. Instead, he continues around the back to a smaller house. That’s where he stops and gets out, walks around to my door and opens it for me, offering me a hand and I take it stepping out.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet. I fuck with whores all the time, Isadora, but you’re different.”
“How so?” I ask.
Jasper pushes on me as I come to a full standing position. His hand comes up and tugs at my wig. “Lose this. Now.”
I do as he says, pulling it from my head, and unclipping my long hair, letting it drop down my back. He hasn’t seen my hair without my wig. He picks up a few strands of my soft hair and lets it drop back down. His eyes, ever so light, find mine. “Now I see you. Tell me, Isadora, how much more are you hiding from me?”
I look past him to the house, where I know Heather is. I don’t want to leave her alone in that place by herself. I’ve seen the bruises on some of the girls, and I don’t want her to be like them. She’s the weak link I never wanted. Yet, she’s there on my conscience. And instead of focusing on smooching the big boss, I’m now worried about her.
Turning back to Jasper, I smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He looks behind him, then back to me. “A drink, so you can see your friend, then you’re mine.”
I sigh in relief.
Jasper takes my hand, threads my fingers in his and pulls me to the back door which is open. “There she is.” He points to her. Heather’s seated by herself, a drink in her hand as she looks around. When she spots me she runs over almost tackling me, but Jasper doesn’t let go of my hand.
“They want me to go for a swim, but one of the girls pushed me away, so I don’t know what to do. What are you up to?” She looks from me to Jasper.
“You should go home,” I say to her, but she shakes her head.
“I just got here.”
“You should go home, Heather,” I say in sterner, firmer voice.
“What your friend is trying to say is… why don’t you go grab yourself another drink, and have some fun. She’ll be occupied for a while.”
“Can I come with you?” she asks. Her doe eyes are begging me.
“Go home, Heather.”
Jasper pulls me to him, and she notices.
“I’ll go for a swim.”
I shake my head slowly as Jasper hands me a drink. “Go. Have fun. Isadora is coming with me.”
“Isadora?” she asks, confusion is littered on her face as the small lines crease above her eyebrows.
“Goodnight Heather,” I say, turning to walk out the same way we came in.
He’s silent until we pass his car, and get to the front door of the second smaller house.