Things move fast as Frankie and I climb into the cargo plane, the door slamming shut behind us not a minute after we start making our way to the front.I pause for a second after the door is closed, looking backwards towards the pallets stacked with goods. “But the shoes,” I murmur, my feet already
“Like eight hours,” he says, giving me a chagrined little shrug.“Eight hours without a bathroom!?” I gasp and he just grins at me.“It’s an adventure, Bambs,” he says, tugging me closer to him. “It’s not an adventure if it’s comfortable the whole time.”I grumble my discontent, saying I’d quite lik
I just stare at Frankie, completely shocked. Because, I mean, I knew that he knew about the emails that I wrote to Christian all the time – and I knew that he knew about “Daisy” - but really? The whole time he knew about…me?All about me?“What – what are you talking about?” I ask under my breath, n
"I don’t like the idea of my girl stripping, Iris,” my boyfriend Steven says, glaring at me with his arms crossed. “It’s disgusting and impure. And I need my girl to be pure.” Steven is my college sweetheart – we’ve been dating for nine months, even though he’s graduated. He's very disciplined and
“Welcome to the stage…Bambi!” The DJ says, using my stage name. Dancing comes naturally to me – music has always made me feel at home in my body, and when the music is sexy? Well, then I feel sexy too. I whip my hair back at the crescendo of the music, my eyes moving directly to the man in the mon
I stare at the two men in shock, clutching the money to my chest. “What – what the hell are you talking about!?” “Your little boyfriend,” the smaller guy says, sneering and pushing Anthony away when he tries to get to my side. “He sold you to Don Bonetti as part of his debt.“ “What!?” I shout, j
I say a little prayer of thanks to Anthony as I bolt, clutching my money and throwing myself through the curtain at the back of the bar. Behind me I hear shouting and the sound of something that sounds like a fist on flesh – God, I hope Anthony is okay – But there’s no time to worry about him.
I scream again, covering my head and ducking down as low as I can go, my feet drifting over the back seat and kicking the Mafia King in the thigh – “Fucking go, Frankie!” the Mafia King shouts, “they’re on our god damn tail!” “Get down!” the Mafia King shouts, ducking and throwing his body over