I squint my eyes at him like I don’t comprehend. "Excuse me?"
“Ah, never mind,” he says waving a hand, disregarding me.
Because I’m just a stupid dancer. A worthlessmignotta, right?
He leans back in his chair and takes a pull from his cigar. Smoke billows out of his mouth. "I walk through my club when you're on stage, all these men about to bust their nut just from watching you. And the only oneyouwant to touch you is the one that won't pay you. I watched Corrado eating that pussy of yours in the back room. Free pussy for my Corrado?”
Oh shit.
“You like my Corrado?"
“Y-y-yes," I stammer, voice shaking.
"Y-y-yes?" he mocks, barking out a laugh. Spittle and saliva fling from his lips. He walks out from behind his desk, and crooks his finger toward me. “Get up,” he growls.
He doesn’t wait for me to stand. As I lean forward, he yanks me up by the hair and pushes me onto the desk. My back arcs over the edge and he shifts in front of me, pressing his groin into my stomach. He smiles over me, grinding his hips and the erection behind his pants into me. "You'll fuck who I say to fuck. No more free pussy for Corrado. You stay away from him. Corrado is like my son, you're not good enough." Then he chuckles and slides his flat hot tongue from my jaw up to my temple. “Well, let’s see if he passes this test.”
A thick meaty hand comes up and grabs at my chest, roughly palming one.
“No,” I groan, trying to push him away.
"You like fighting, little one?" His right hand grasped onto my cheeks, squeezing my mouth open. "I like when girls put up a fight too," he laughs, sticking his tongue in my mouth. The other hand squeezes at my breast.
My muscles clench, the veins in my temples pound, my pulse rushes with a rage. Fury. I want to kill him. I want to take that huge gun off his desk and blow his dick clean off and stand over him, laughing.
Suddenly I'm collapsing to the floor, and I'm squeezing my eyes shut tight.
“You’re doing good, Felony. He should be here any minute.”
My eyes snap open. He should be here any minute? Corrado? He wants Corrado to walk in and see this? He wants to see how Corrado reacts to it? How I will?He wants to see who he can trust because someone is murdering his little wise-guy club, one by one.
The door to his office opens. I instantly look up but all I see is Tony with his hand around his small, stubby cock, leaning over me as if he was ready to fuck the life out of my face.
"Uncle Tony?" Corrado's voice trembles with rage.
Corrado pushes past and stares at me, stunned.
He’s either going to think I’m sharing myself with everyone or he’s going to think Tony was trying to force me.
I shake my head at him. Tears welling in my eyes.
What kind of a man is Corrado? I guess I’m about to find out.
What’s he going to believe? That I’m nothing more than a worthless whore?
Or is he worthy, really worthy of someone like me?
Tony tucks himself back into his pants and motions for me to stand up. He even holds out a hand to help.
Corey's eyes look livid. He’s breathless with fury. I want to say something but I can’t. I can’t think of anything to say.
Tony takes another drag of his cigar and he’s back to business, turning his back to me to face Corrado. “We just got word Paulie and John got popped.”
With his back to me, I think of a thousand ways he could die with his back turned. But someone like Anthony Fretolli deserves a little bit more than that. He deserves the giddy stare of his killer and one of those long movie monologues about how much he’ll suffer in Hell.
“What?” Corrado asks Tony, but his eyes don’t leave mine. They’re frantic. Wild. I can tell he doesn’t know what to do—what to believe.
“Paulie. John,” Tony says, shifting in front of me to break our eye contact. “They were in the parking lot of Dante’s, eating meatball heroes. But they had to stop in response to the bullets that popped them in the backs of their heads. In broad fucking daylight.”
