Too bad this time I really didn't have time to fuck her again.
Don and Dominic had a truce. The pakhan surprised me, but their victory wouldn't last for long.
Don Giovanni would pay for how he treated me all those years. And the pakhan would for the humiliation he inflicted on me years ago.
I just had to be smarter this time.
The smell of a pasta sauce, bolognese I suspected, penetrated my nostrils, and instant hunger overtook me.
Slowly opening my eyes, I was blinded by the bright sunlight coming through the open door. The room appeared quite blurry. The soft sound of the birds chirping floated on the light breeze that brought relief to my heated skin. My mouth was so dry I was barely able to croak, “Water.” Since my head was turned to the side to hide from the light, the only thing I heard was someone dropping a pan lid, liquid pouring into a glass, then a few short, heavy steps, and the cup was near my lips as I welcomed the cooling sensation and hydration my body cried out for. “Slowly,” said the same soft, male voice from the other times I woke up, and then he took the cup away and a cold cloth swept over my face, removing the traces of sweat. “Hungry,” I replied, because my stomach grumbled to the point of something unbearable forming in my throat.
“I will give you soup.” I was too weak to nod, so he left my side as I breathed through the pain, only now registering in my mind I probably should have been scared of this man and that I was at his mercy. But I wasn’t. Somehow, without knowing his name or even having a good look at his face or my surroundings, I felt safe.
For now.
“Hurts.” My whisper was so low I was afraid he wouldn't hear, but he did.
“Eat, and then you will sleep again.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and after he’d adjusted the pillow behind me and scooted me up a bit, which sent a jolt of pain to my ribs, he pressed a delicious-smelling spoon of something to my mouth.
But probably everything in this situation would have smelled heavenly to me.
As my taste buds enjoyed the last of the minestrone soup, the vegetables almost melting in my mouth and not hurting my throat as I swallowed, sleepiness overtook me, and then my eyes closed of their own accord, even though my mouth still chewed slightly.
The man lay me back on the bed, changed the sweat-soaked blankets, and I fell asleep to the door shutting loudly as the room darkened again.
Rosa
“Frankie, it’s not funny.”
She kept giggling as we moved through her warehouse in the middle of the night. She turned on the lights one by one, as my eyes took in the beauty she had created a few years ago.
The warehouse and design studio was located in Brooklyn, in one of the nicer neighborhoods. Connor had breathed down her neck about safety. Her place had five different rooms. Frankie and her assistant’s office walls were painted white, while the table, chair, round fluffy carpet, lamps, and laptop cover were all in shades of red. The second office had several desks for her staff of fifteen. The third space was a glass see-through room with a huge oval table for meetings. The fourth was a break room, so it had coffeemakers, microwaves, food, and other miscellaneous kitchen necessities.
And finally, the fifth one, with various cupboards, shelves, and boxes, was where the finished creations lay.
Frankie’s heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as she frantically searched for something.
“Can I help you?”
Giving me a side-glance, she murmured, “No, thanks.”
Folding my arms, I said, “I do have a sense of style, you know.”
She giggled, and then responded, “Right. Is that why you are going to classes in gym clothes?”
“Hey, they’re comfortable,” I replied defensively, and she shrugged.
“Seems stupid to me. You basically had no life all those years, and now, quite frankly, you look like shit. Take care of yourself, girl.” Her tight green dress hugged her perfectly, as she clipped her blonde hair up. “Okay. So this date. Do you need him to… what?”
Frowning, I picked up a magazine she had lying around. “What do you mean?”
“Is he supposed to lose his head and get hard, or get scared and run away from you? What’s the agenda?”
“Well…” Shit, why was I blushing?
“I got this,” she replied, opening up the huge closet on both sides as her finger slid from dress to dress on the hangers. There had to be thousands of those in there. Occasionally, she’d ask questions. “Dinner, or something else? What’s your shoe size? Hmm… perfect, but not your color. Too big of an ass, no offense. It’s a compliment, actually, for this dress.” My head spun from all this, so I plopped onto the lonely chair in the left corner and let her do her magic.
This whole date on short notice required desperate measures, and who better to ask for a dress than Frankie? She lived and breathed fashion. Once she’d earned her bachelor’s degree in it, she opened up her own design studio with a loan from the bank. As she explained, she needed to do it on her own, even if she failed. However, she slowly gained popularity and was about to receive her biggest project, a collaboration with a lingerie brand. So far, her brand existed only online.
