Page 30 of Corrupted Pleasure

“Wyn, get away from him,” Juliette hissed. “He looks like a damn Italian.”

Wynter waved her hand, shushing them and then mouthedStop.

The three of us watched in fascination as the guy took her right forearm and ran a thumb over her skin where she was burnt, then pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around her forearm.

“Who carries handkerchiefs anymore?” I whispered more to myself.

“Fucking Italians, that’s who.” Juliette made it sound like being Italian was bad. I knew the Irish and Italian mafia didn’t get along, but I didn’t realize her hate extended beyond that. Unless…

“Is that guy in the Italian mafia?” I asked her.

Juliette shrugged. “He looks like it, though I’m not sure who he is. I spent more time with Wynter in California than here in New York. All Italians are scumbags.”

It seemed a bit excessive for Juliette to apply her dislike of the Italian mafia to all Italians. Especially one as good looking as the guy in front of us.

He offered Wynter a pen and she took his hand, turned it over and wrote something on his palm. Once done with his palm, she held it for a moment and lifted her eyes. The two locked eyes and the intensity of his stare was so strong it pulsed in the early May air. Somehow time seemed to slow and sharp breaths inhaled as we all watched the exchange. A pink flush rose on Wynter’s cheeks and she glanced down to where his thumb brushed over her skin.

She smiled at him, her face glowing despite the soot marking her cheek.

A tilt of her head and she rushed back to us. His eyes followed her all the way and only when she got in the Jeep did he get into his own car.

Something told me that the handsome Italian stranger had fallen under the spell of Wynter Star.

And he would never let her go.

* * *

“Try this code,” Juliette offered another combination as she took a swig of her drink. Ivy and Juliette had gotten into the liquor cabinet, like we weren’t in enough shit as it was.

I punched in the numbers.Beep.

“Nope.” The four of us have been at it for hours. Short of taking everything out of this house, there was no way to pay off Garrett.

“Do we need the money now if Wynter’s guy will take care of the surveillance footage?” Ivy asked, twisting her hands nervously. She worried if this got out, her family would make her go back to Ireland. And marry some Irish scumbag. Her words, not mine.

“Bas couldn’t promise to get it done within a day,” Wynter commented. “We’ll need to shut Garrett up until he has all the surveillance wiped.”

“Bas?” The three of us cocked our eyebrows. “You are already on a nickname basis with him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop it, you three.”

“Stop what?” Juliette challenged, her lips curved into a smile.

“Stop assuming,” she said, coolly. She sat on the couch, her feet tucked under her and studying. How in the world she could study with all the commotion, I had no idea.

“How do you know him?” Ivy asked. “He looks Italian. Is he Italian?”

Wynter shrugged. “I didn’t ask him for his heritage.”

“You two stop discriminating,” I ordered Juliette and Ivy. “We need to be grateful he’s helping us.”

“The question is what is Wynter doing for this favor.” Juliette smirked before mimicking a blow job with her hands, suggesting Wynter’s repayment for the favor.

“I volunteer as tribute,” Ivy screamed out of nowhere, making us all screech and scaring the living crap out of us. “Italian or not.”

Juliette giggled. I still haven’t forgotten her weird comment from Garrett’s house.

“You are all talk and no action,” Juliette snickered.