“What, no!” I stand up, rubbing my butt, “I am not a call girl!” My hand instinctively reaches for my glasses, but they're not there. With a frown, I protest, glaring at the accusing handsyMafia man.
“No call girl is too nice for what she does on her knees.” Jessica stands next to the stairs, arms crossed, hip leaning on the railing.
“She solicited me. Asked me to come get her after work because she needs to make some extra money,” the handsy man pleads, but the King stares at me.
Jessica saunters over, her hand casually trailing between her tits and up to her collarbone as she walks. She stops in front of the King, a coy smile playing on her lips as she leans close to whisper in his ear.
“Think about it, darling. A woman who can get close enough to you without suspicion and weasels her way into the VIP area. Doesn’t that sound like a prostitute?” The movements Jessica makes intrigue me as if she can turn on and off her sex appeal.
The King's gaze never leaves my direction as Jessica whispers in his ear. Slowly, he straightens up and pushes Jessica slightly back. “You seem to know a lot about the position of a call girl,” King says, but Jessica playfully laughs that off.
“I admire how they always seem to get their way.”
Gears start to turn in my mind as I squint at Jessica’s blurry form. She looks innocent and inviting, as if she is just flirting, but sex is always on the table.
But I can see past her facade now, despite my broken glasses and the blurry world they left me in. Squinting, I can just make out the calculated way she moves and the sharpness in her eyes. I interject before Jessica can respond, “King, look at her body language. Even through the blur, she’s loose, inviting, and sensual as she speaks to you.”
The King's gaze shifts from me back to Jessica, a new sense of awareness in his eyes. “When you came in here my body language was stiff, closed off. If I were a call girl like her, I wouldn’t be a good one, would I?”
Jessica's facade wavers for a split second before she regains her composure, letting a seductive smile spread across her face. The King lightly chuckles as he pushes Jessica away, “It takes more than a brain full of silicone and fake breasts to be a good call girl, but I see your point.”
“It’s an act some guys like, King, a little bit of fight,” Jessica goes to reach for the King again, but he grabs her wrist tightly, his body tense.
“Do not touch me again,” the King drops her hand with disgust, wiping his hand on his jeans as he continues. “ I have let you humor me with your lies, but do not treat me like a fool.”
“No, King I would never,” the King gives her a humorless laugh as he invades her space menacingly.
“You think you could play me for a fool because I am a man I must be ruled by my dick? Is that it?” The King looks her over in disgust and turns away, “Get out of my sight.”
“King, you have to be protected from her.” Jessica approaches him again, feigning innocence, but the King’s subjects block her as he moves closer to me.
“You underestimate me because I have shown you kindness. I will not make that mistake again. ” He slowly looks over at Jessica, and I can tell from how her knees buckle that she sees the darkness in his eyes. “ You're fired.”
“King, I’m sorry I-”
“You have three minutes to exit. I would use that time wisely.” Fear strikes across Jessica’s face as she scrambles back down the stairs. I bow my head, looking at my tennis shoes, unsure of the punishment I may receive.
I don’t know how long I have been looking down, but a hand holding my broken glasses evades my eyeline. “Oh, thank you.”
“They are shattered, can you see otherwise?” I shake my head, not allowing my hair to fall into my face. The King pinches my chin forcing me to look at him, and I can make out the sharpness of his jawline. His touch shoots a spark of electricity down my spine, and my breath hitches. “I will-”
“I have contacts downstairs. You know, in case of emergencies.” The King looks at me as if a thousand questions are running through his mind.
“Why are you working here?” I jerk back, slighting, and the King releases me. Jessica was right in a way I was supposed to be so much more. I was supposed to be a surgeon. I had the brains for it. The steady hands. The determination, but it is not often a stranger can see you are meant to be so much more than what you are.
In the blur, I try to find his eyes before I respond, “Most people can’t do what they truly want to.”
The King nods sharply before taking a step back and clearing his throat. “I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. They’re filled with dangerous people, and normal people shouldn’t be around them.”
“You sound worried.” I laugh at the King’s warning.
“I am serious, Elise. I don’t want you up here again.” The King’s voice is sharp, and I straighten at the command.
“As you wish, King.” His lips in a tight line, he nods taking a small step to the right, allowing me to shimmy past him. I stop and turn around, “Thank you for everything.” He doesn’t respond, opting for a sharp nod.
I walk forward, clutching my broken glasses, looking down when another figure blocks my exit. The blonde guy with an easygoing smile clears his throat as he nervously scratches the back of his head, “Hey," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. Are you okay?"
"I'll survive," I reply with a shrug, avoiding eye contact. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he nods slowly.
“Well, I was wondering if you would give me a chance to show you not everyone in the Mafia is not a pig?” I give him a small smile, feeling the heat of someone’s eyes behind me.
“I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.”
The snort causes me to turn around, and the King blends into the black leather couch, looking at me, “Boyfriend?”
“A great boyfriend. If that matters?”
The King coughs, “Not at all.” He looks over at a disappointed Jacob. “I just told her to steer clear of us, and you ask her out on a date in front of me.”
“What shot would I have after this if you ban her?”
“None. You get no chance.” The King growls, and I back up towards the stairs. “Leave now, Elise Caroline. I don’t want to see you up here again.”
His warning is sharp and declarative. With a small squeak, I scurry down the stairs, but I pause before I enter the kitchen. I never introduced myself. I never told the King my name, yet he said it not once but twice, and the second time, he used my middle name.
Does the Mafia King know me? Do I know him?
