Page 31 of Underground Prince

But after the rush, it wasn’t about desiring to be pure and ruining my chances. I was no angel. My wings were made of stone.

“No, Matt.” I said instead. “Let me go.”

He didn't move.

“Get your hands off me before I kick your balls into your brain.”

“You’ll regret this,” he said, releasing me.

“I bet I won’t.” I held my purse tight against my chest. “Please. Go.”

Matt muttered something under his breath, but didn’t challenge my request. I watched him leave, and waited a full five minutes before I allowed even a toe to twitch.

Apartment secured, I flew down the stairs, nearly sliding out of my heels, but not because I was afraid. No, quite the opposite. I ran because I knew it was wrong to feel this way—pumped up with a galloping heart, my body crackling with racing nerves.

Dangerous.

I tore the horns off my head as I stumbled outside and caught my breath. Logical Me was screaming, raging that I might as well leap in front of a moving car with all the peril I was throwing at myself. Yet my cheeks were burning and it wasn’t from shame.

Not right. My mind was off-kilter to want something like this. And it was only a matter of time before I took it too far and really did put myself in a situation that I couldn’t snark my way out of.

But was I going to stop? No. Because in doing this, I was keeping myself here.

* * *

I stood in a hallway of an apartment complex on the corner of Bowery and East Houston.

A giant opened the door, stoic and unamused by my outfit. If I pushed him, he wouldn't give to my pressure. If I jumped him, it’d be like a spider monkey flying onto a tree.

I squeezed by, said “Thank you,” after a particularly awkward neck crick, and entered into another devil’s playground.

Players were already crowded around a table at the center of the main room, a muted football game playing on the sole flat screen TV to their right. A clink of glass signaled where the kitchen was and I turned left.

Georgie was there, stacking bottles on the kitchen island. It was open concept, so she had a direct line of sight to the players at the table. Laying my jacket and clutch on available counter space, I went to help her.

“You’re late,” she said, continuing to organize the liquor. Her blonde hair was upswept and gleaming with spray-on glitter.

She was dressed as an angel, with tiny but expensive-looking feather wings, a white bustier that showed off her stomach (which also sparkled), and tight white latex shorts. Her heels were clear platforms.

“I had a…run-in. It’s fine, though.”

She nodded, but it was obvious she didn’t give a shit. “Try not to be late next time. I’m massaging tonight so I need a cocktail at my side.”

“Sure,” I said, aiming for agreeable. Hell, I was going to be working with her until five in the morning. “Can I make you something?”

She paused in facing out the labels. “No. I mean you.”

“Me?”

“Fucking cherries,” she mumbled.

“I’m getting really tired of that fruit. Give it to me straight and I’ll get it done. I’m not a moron, I’m new. Don’t act like you haven’t been where I am.”

“Shhh!”

I hadn’t noticed Kai before, but it seemed as though I was getting up to my old antics. I mouthed ‘sorry’ but stayed with Georgie, unapologetic. I scolded myself last time for thinking she was a bitch, but now here she was, being a snot.

“I’m the massage girl today,” she explained, “so I’ll be going around giving neck and shoulder rubs and won’t be able to tend to the drinks. You’re the cocktail. Make sure these guys are happy and I’ll split the tips with you. Okay?”

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