Everything rushed right back in.
“You okay?” He ducked his head again, brows raised in concern.
My throat bobbed. “W-why is he hiring me?”
Dean was watching me like he expected me to pass out. If that was his assumption, he wasn’t wrong. Standing was an effort as my legs threatened to buckle out.
"He wants to keep an eye on you," he said. His gaze dropped briefly over my body. I noted the way his left hand was lifted slightly in my direction. He definitely expected me to pass out.
“I promise I won’t say anything,” I managed.
"You think that's how he does things? On promises? It was either give you the job or show up to your house later and…" He must've noticed the color drained from my face when I realized where he was going with that sentence. “...make sure you didn't talk.”
I spoke quietly. "So, I don't have a choice?"
Dean paused for a beat. “Not anymore.”
A shaky breath escaped my lips. "Well, then…thanks for the heads up, I guess." I looked up at him and forced a smile, just as my Uber pulled up to the curb.
On shaky legs, I drifted towards the car as I disappeared into my thoughts. The smile was long gone and replaced by a crease in my forehead that was beginning to ache. Similar to my palms, where the strap of my bag bit into my skin, leaving behind long red marks.
Dean cleared his throat from nearby before he opened the back door of the car. A simple gesture I hadn’t expected from him at all. His serious expression somehow looked kinder.
"My advice," he kept his voice low, “Try to avoid the basement. As long as you don't witness any more shit you should be okay… It's just for the summer."
I barely managed a nod and climbed into the backseat. He closed the door gently and slid his hands into his pockets, lowering his head in thought as he backed away from the curb before heading inside.
As the Uber pulled into the traffic, into the throng of impatient honking of city drivers, Dean’s words floated through my head on repeat.
It's just for the summer.
His voice was a calm rumble, cutting through the anxious chaos, but it didn’t stop the other reminders from crashing in.
And I’m employed by a mob boss.
But it’s just for the summer.
I couldn’t tell anyone. At least not anyone with access to criminal records.
If my parents found out about this. If Dad found out about this—
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Don't think about it."
"Sorry?" the Uber driver said as she looked into the rearview mirror.
"Nothing," I smiled.
Chapter 8
Dean
Getting sucked off in a toilet stall was something I never planned on doing again anytime soon.
It stunk of shit and piss, and the walls were covered in phone numbers and crude drawings. One sketch being of a dick and balls, sitting at eye level above the toilet while my own was in someone’s mouth.
“Fuck,” I grunted, resting my head back against the door while Roxy D’Angelo edged me closer with every bob of her head. Large, gold hoop earrings glinting in the stark, overheard light as she left a smudged ring of red lipstick halfway down the length of my cock.
We hadn’t planned this, I even tried to avoid her, but we got talking in the corridor. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, she had backed me into the bathroom, shoved me into a stall, and didn’t waste any time pulling my shorts and briefs down to my knees. No man in their right mind would refuse one so I complied, intending to release some pent-up frustration.
