Page 268 of Valentino

I sit on the side of the bathtub. “So…for you to be the king…” I try to articulate my thoughts, “…how much cocaine are we talking?”

He soaps himself up. “You don’t need to worry about that, Anna.” He washes his privates and my eyes drop to linger there.

Hmmm….

Damn, he’s fine.

“Well the only reason I’m asking is, if I am going to be with you from now on.”

“There is no if,” he snaps, annoyed.

“Okay.” I reword my sentence. “Now that we’re together, the more I know about what’s going to keep you and me safe, the better it is.”

He keeps washing himself.

“Are we talking like thousands or…tens of thousands?”

He puts his head under the water and begins washing his hair.

“A hundred thousand?” I ask.

He puts his head under the water and the soap runs down over him.

“Millions?” I watch him. “Because if it’s millions, I think we need to reconsider where we live permanently.”

His eyes open to meet mine and he pushes the soap back from his face.

I knew that would get him.

“Just be honest with me, babe,” I tell him. “Am I your partner or just a dumb girl you’re dating?”

His jaw clenches.

“Who am I going to tell?” I scoff. “If we are building a life together, I’m in over my head already, it makes no difference to me if it’s five dollars or five thousand. It is what it is, and I’m involved by association.”

“Billions,” he replies.

“Billions?” My eyes widen. “Billions?”

He turns off the tap, steps out and wraps a white towel around his waist. “It’s not us…exactly.” He walks out into the bedroom and I follow him. “We don’t actually sell it.”

“What does that mean?” I frown.

“We have many clubs, strip joints and venues.” He dries himself and drops the towel. “We organize and distribute the party side of the entertainment.”

My eyes linger on his semi-hard dick.

Hmm… .

“So what you’re saying is that you don’t actually sell it yourself?”

“God no,” he scoffs, he walks over to his suitcase and digs out a pair of boxer shorts. “We are not shitty dealers, Anna.” He steps into his boxer shorts and pulls them up.

I watch him for a moment. “You’re the supplier.”

“Exactly.” He waves his hand over the chair in the corner of my room. “What is going on in this area?”

“What do you mean?” I look over to where he’s pointing.