Page 121 of Kneeling to Candy

Duffy looks between me, Piero, and O’Conall. Embarrassed, his face turns from red to burgundy. “It was a fair trade. What does she know? She turned tricks, and suddenly she’s the expert?”

Butch’s jaw cracks under the pressure of clenching his teeth. With one ‘Don’t you dare’ look from me, he stills, glowering but obedient.

Wanting to put Duffy in his place, I hold up my palm in front of me. “Be for real. I’m not arguing with a guy I’m taller than.”

His red face puckers like he sucked on a lemon as he sputters. “You—you—you?—”

Butch moves in, stopping when I hold up my hand, not bothering to face him this time. This is one fight I need to dominate without backup. My words always have been my sharpest weapon, cutting down one’s self-assurance.

“For Christ’s sake, spit it out already. Do you need my help to come up with insults, too, like you need help in this business? Bitch. Whore. Take your pick,” I taunt with a little laugh, watching Duffy lose his ever-loving mind.

“Whatever abusive remarks you hurl at me, I’ve heard it all before. Sticks and stones. Your words have no power over me. They never did.”

The leprechaun-looking bastard’s fingers turn into claws in front of him, like he’s getting ready to wring my neck.

O’Conall lays a steady hand on his partner’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the meat of him to halt him in place. “She is not yours to discipline.”

Not yours to discipline. Those words nearly cripple my confidence. It doesn’t take a genius to read between the lines. O’Conall means I’m his to discipline.

Over my dead body. I’d shit in both hands and clap before giving him the gratification of seeing me scared again. I internally stomp my foot, stubbornly refusing to show my cards to these disgusting assholes.

“You’ve got ’em against the ropes, Candy. Push them so we can get this show on the road,” Atlas orders through the comms.

No problem. Pushing buttons is my specialty.

Owning my part, I turn on my heels, sashaying back to Piero. Once in front of him, I walk my fingers up the lapel of his suit, giving him my best flirty smile. “Piero, dear. Must we go through these unseasoned channels? These two could screw up a wet dream if left unsupervised. You already know I’m more than capable of running our own ring.”

Duffy makes a choking sound, probably worried he’s fucked them out of a profitable business arrangement. I don’t turn to see, but I can feel O’Conall’s eyes burning a hole in my back. Keeping my expression flirty, I smile smugly at the don.

“Hmm,” Piero muses, tapping his chin like he’s considering my offer. “You have an eye for the operation.”

“After watching how these women are tossed about by the guards the previous times I’ve attended these auctions, it’s clear these two fools don’t have a real handle on the merchandise.” Ignoring the distaste for their choice of verbiage, I continue. “The women need someone who can relate to them, understand their fears and calm them into submission. I’m what you need if you want your product to remain unmarred. Damaged goods don’t bring high profits.”

O’Conall releases a slight snort, finding something I say interesting. Did I say too much, giveaway a weakness? Not knowing makes me a little nervous, but I press on.

“With me running things, it’ll put more money in your pocket. Guaranteed.”

Piero puckers his lips in contemplation before giving me a grin. “More money is the goal.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Duffy quips, pushing his way between us. “Let’s not be making any rash decisions. Yeah, I made some stupid calls—that’s on me, not Mister O’Conall. Trust me, sir. He would have handled the situation differently. But I’m the face of this operation, a gamble I do to earn the trust of our buyers, while Mister O’Conall works all the magic behind the scene.”

Piero raises an eyebrow at O’Conall. “Is this true, O’Conall? You manage the flesh trade operation?”

O’Conall nods, his face severe. “I do.”

Chase chuckles through the comms. “Gotta love it when they tell on themselves.”

“Makes it so much easier for the district attorney to charge them,” Gauge agrees in a pleased tone.

Duffy turns his pleading beady eyes back to Piero. “Please, Signore Bianchi. Don’t hold my blunders against the business. Let our work speak for itself. Stay for the auction. See the quality of the merchandise for yourself. The bidding will be through the roof, I assure you. You won’t want to start a competing sex ring from the ground up once you see us work our magic.”

“Waste of time,” I say dismissively, waving away the creep. “Piero is not a man to be bothered with juveniles parading around as men, pretending to know what they’re doing. He needs reliable business ventures.”

My last comment is enough to earn a scoff from O’Conall. He moves into our bubble, going toe-to-toe with Piero while staring me down.

“As my business associate said, let our work speak for us,” O’Conall grits through clenched teeth.

Pausing for dramatics, Piero rubs at his chin before looking at the two pricks in the room. “I’m willing to watch you two in real time. But I warn you, I don’t appreciate being dicked around. Hide anything else from me, and I’ll set Candy on you with whatever knife she fancies.”

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