Page 25 of Mob Princess

“Yes. Chips. You know, crunchy potato slices.”

“Yes, I know what chips are, jack-off. I’ve just never seen you eat chips, though.”

He grinned, his eyes giving me a momentary glance. “I do now.”

I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Are you pulling my leg?”

“Trust me, you’d know if I was doing that.”

The dulcet, lowered tone of his voice made my stomach tremble with anticipation. Maybe tonight would be the night he finally cashed in on the agreement we set up. After all, I held up my end of the bargain. I was back in his bedroom, sleeping with him as if nothing was the matter. All he had to do was roll over, run his hand along my waist, and take what was rightfully his. While he wasn’t in love with me yet, I knew he wanted it. I saw it in the way his eyes lingered along my legs every time I wore a summer dress around the penthouse. I saw the way he stole glances at me every time I wore my makeup a bit differently, or whenever I tried out a different perfume. And I had to admit, my body was longing for his again.

Longing to be beneath him as he commanded my pleasures with his tongue.

I drew in a deep breath. “Okay. Well, I’m headed upstairs to order groceries. Yell up if you want anything else,” I said.

He didn’t bother looking at me. “Will do.”

I walked over to the kitchen doorway and peeked over my shoulder. Now that his attention was back on work, I could focus on getting out of there. The last thing I needed was him at my side while I went and talked with the owners of businesses I knew were on the side of my uncle. One of the things my uncle loved about me was my ability to talk my way out of any situation. I knew my tongue, and my words could be put to good use. If I could convince them to hop ship in exchange for Israel’s protection against the wrath of my uncle, we could strip Pava of his power in this city without ever firing a damn bullet. I had to find a way to get out of this penthouse.

All right, Bonnie. Think. Think hard.

I made my way upstairs and didn’t start rushing until I closed the bedroom door behind me. Then, I lunged my body over to the closet and threw open the doors. I stared at what I had, wondering if I could really pull this off. I mean, if I dressed in all black, that would certainly look suspicious. But, when my eyes settled onto my accessories, a smile slipped across my cheeks. Thank goodness, big sunglasses were the ‘it’ fashion right now, because they were also a great face-concealer. I plucked the largest pair I owned and slid them on, pleased that they covered about half of it. I plucked a silken scarf out of the drawer and draped it over my head, seeing how much of me it covered with the sunglasses. And the shadow it cast alone covered the rest of my face.

“Perfect,” I whispered.

I tossed both of the items onto the bed behind me and started stripping out of my clothes. I needed something that made me look inconspicuous. Something that everyday people wore and didn’t bat an eye at. I rummaged through my dresses and my gowns. I pulled out a few blouses before tossing them down to the floor. Everything I had was so expensive, and I never thought that would play against me in my life. But, as I continued rifling through dozens upon dozens of name-brand clothes that everyone would stop to ogle at, I cursed myself,

Of course, I don’t have regular clothes when I need them.

“Come on. There has to be something,” I murmured.

Then, it hit me.

I rushed over to Israel’s drawer and started rifling through his clothes. I know I’d seen them. He’d worn them once, and I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I dug down deep into his drawer. Beyond the sweatpants and the t-shirts and the undershirts and the socks. But, when I reached way back into the bottom drawer, I felt them. I felt the rough, torn fabric against my fingertips as I stretched and maneuvered my arm, trying to get a good grip on them. The denim jeans he owned.

Then, I felt my hand grasp them against my palm.

“Gotcha,” I hissed.

I pulled them out and quickly slid them on. I’d have to roll them up since they were much too long, but they fit. Kind of. I couldn't get the button closed, though.

“Fucking thin-ass man,” I grumbled.

I laid down on the bed and sucked it in, but it was no use. My hips were too wide for the slim-waisted pants this man apparently owned. That meant I’d have to jimmy rig the jeans to work. I stood to my feet and huffed with frustration. I’d never had to do this with my own clothes before. Did other women have to do this? Figure out ways to keep their not-really-husband’s pants up just so they could go out undercover and talk to businesses about betraying their owners?

Yeah, no one deals with this Bonnie.

I waddled into the bathroom and pulled out a hair-tie before wrapping it around the button. Just because I’d never had to do this before didn’t mean I didn’t know how. I’d seen my cousin struggle with clothes all the time when we were younger. I’d never wrestled with my weight much, but Brianna had been a different story. I could remember all the times she told me she was envious of my body and how I could eat anything without gaining weight while she could ‘stare at a piece of cheese and feel her thighs widen’.

If she could only see me now.

After threading the other end of the hair tie through the buttonhole, I wrapped the opposite end back around the button. That gave me a flexible waistline while still keeping the things up so I could focus solely on talking to people instead of wondering when my pants were going to drop to my ankles.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. “Now, for a shirt that covers all that.”

I found a gray tunic shirt stuffed at the back of my pajama closet. I couldn’t believe I still owned this thing. I hadn’t seen it in years. I held it up to me before sliding it over my head, and —damn it—the thing still fit. It was tight in the chest but was flowy around my waist. Perfect for covering up the jimmy-rigged jeans without drawing attention to me.

I sat down and rolled up the cuff of the pants before slipping into some flat boots.

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