Page 56 of Mafia Handbook

“Fuck you, Sebastian.”

“Not even with a borrowed dick, Geek Girl.”

Oakley huffed, but complied, dropping into the chair and crossing her arms.

“Just so we’re on the same page, I’ve hacked your baby here.” Pointing to the computer beside her. “Made a copy of your files and deleted everything.” Bash enunciated each letter of the latter.

Oakley held her tongue, tears stung the back of her eyes at the thought of everything she had on that hard drive, unable to be saved at the risk of getting caught.

“I do have one question for you,” pulling the chair he’d vacated across the room and dropping into it. “You have everything, why?”

Uncrossing her arms, Oakley leveled her gaze with Bash’s. “Because I could.”

Shaking his head, “That’s a bitch answer. Give me the truth.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, “You have no idea what it feels like to have someone assume you’re stupid because you’re pretty.”

Dipping his head, Bash snickered before returning his gaze to Oakley. “I can give you the names of at least a dozen women who would disagree with you.”

Jamisson let out a snort, shaking his head as he held back the smile trying to split his face.

“My whole life, my mother told me to keep up with my appearance, because I was too pretty to be smart. I’d watched her do everything in her power to make the men in her life happy, while at the same time making herself miserable.”

Making his presence known, Jamisson stepped from the shadows and grabbed a chair, spinning it around to straddle it.

“How long have you led this double life?”

Filling her cheeks with air, Oakley furrowed her brows as she released the air. “Since I was thirteen, no fourteen,” she corrected.

“The year Gil entered his first gaming competition,” Bash added, leading her in the direction he wanted.

Rolling her eyes, “Gil is no more of a gamer than you are a Vegas Showgirl.” Pointing her manicured finger into her chest, “I taught myself how to write code and to build a computer from parts I bought with money I stole. All Gil ever did was tell our mother he wanted to play games with his friends.”

Bash heard the ring of familiarity, having given his aunt the same excuse when he’d built his first computer.

“That changed when your mother married Frank Rossi, didn't it?”

Casting her gaze to the floor, “When Mom married Frank, she made me swear to be friends with Milena, said we had to keep Frank happy. I hated her from the moment I walked into that wretched house her grandmother lived in, but Frank gave me what I wanted, so I made her believe we were friends.”

Shifting his gaze toward Jamisson, “Until Frank did what Frank does best and found himself someone younger, and let's be honest, soberer than your mother.”

“Mom didn't care who he fucked,” Oakley waved off. “As long as he handed over the cash she wanted. It bothered Gil. He had this fantasy about the perfect nuclear family, so our mother helped him medicate with as much booze and pot as he wanted.”

“Which landed the both of them in rehab.” Jamisson added.

“And pissed Frank off. His one rule for the family, keep the dirty laundry hidden from the public.”

“So why turn things on Milena? I mean, I get that you hated her, but so does Frank.” Bash suspected he knew the answer but wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth.

“Because Frank grew a fucking conscious. He called me into his office one day and begged me to set up a meeting with her. I knew if the pair of them sat down, my money train would end. Hell, my mother had been stupid enough to sign a prenup.”

Holding back his surprise, as this was not close to what he’d assumed.

“So, you concocted a plan to do what exactly?”

Leaning her elbow on the desk, Oakley rested her chin on her bent arm. “To drive her further away from Frank,” she stated matter of factly. “You see, Milena thought no one knew about those magazines she read, the ones about living without electricity and running water. I figured, if that’s what she wanted, I would push her into it.”

Leaning forward, Bash placed his forearms on his thighs. “But I screwed that up, didn't I? First man who wasn't afraid of Frank, and immune to your charms.”

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