Page 25 of Heartless Boss
“I have something to tell you.” Excitement bleeds through her words.
“Spring it on me.” I wiggle around like chains are wrapped around my body. The mud is choking the life out of me. When Izzy sits up, her chocolate eyes meet mine, her thin lips turn up, and she smiles as if she won the lottery.
“I snagged a gig withNaked Magazineposing for the December issue.” Her words are laced with so much passion it can start fireworks.
Naked Magazineis one of the top international lingerie magazines competing withVictoria’s SecretandAdore Me. She’s been wanting to snag a job with them for seven years now.
“That’s awesome. Are you going to take it?”
“Hell yeah!” Happiness slices through her baby doll face. “My parents are pissed off. Ever since they’ve come to terms that modeling is my career, they love to throw it in my face how much money they wasted on a computer engineering degree, and how they want every penny back.” She blows out a loud breath. “I’m sick of their crap. I thank them every day for the degree, but it isn’t enough. And since Alice graduated with her medical degree, they brag about how proud of her they are, like she didn’t get busted for shoplifting last year and Dad didn’t have to bail her out of jail.” Her face morphs from sorrow to anger. “I’m sorry to unload on you, but I needed to get that off my chest.” She rests her head back on the pillow, gazing at the ceiling.
Izzy is always seeking her parents’ approval. No matter what she does they always compare her to Alice, her twin sister. They always belittle her and make her feel like the scum of the earth. Pee on toilet seats gets better treatment than Izzy.
Yes, she is an ounce of brat, a cup of self-centered, and a dash of obnoxious, but her heart is as good as gold and if you ever need anything, she’s there for you. She’ll give you the shirt off her back. Both of her parents are child psychologists.
Sometimes, I used to want to know my dad, but if he’s a terrible person, then I’d rather not know him at all.
“You want to get out of here? Play Monopoly?”
Izzy loves board games. Me, I can live without them.
“Okay, cool. Let’s grab some grub first.”
* * *
“Ha, yo ass is going straight to jail. Do not collect your two hundred bucks.”
I roll my eyes and move the little doggy piece to the jail space on the board. As I clutch my glass, I take slow sips of the bitter wine. I don’t drink often, and when I do I make sure I’m in a safe environment.
Izzy sits cross-legged in front of the brown table as she fist-pumps like a cheerleader at a football game. She loves to talk a lot of crap, and we’re both a little tipsy from drinking Gunner’s wine. Izzy said the wine is expensive, and it’s the same stuff her dad buys for her mom on their anniversary. I told her we’re stealing, and she told me to live a little, and we’re borrowing it—she’ll replace it before he comes back on Monday.
Another crime I committed besides stealing from my boss: I sleep in his bed because Izzy takes up so much space. And I got tired of waking up to a foot in my back or her face snuggled on my chest.
Days like this remind me of college. She’d come over to my and my ex’s apartment, and we would play board games. My ex only allowed me to have one friend, and I never met any of his friends because he thought I would sleep with them. I made a big mistake telling him about my mom being a prostitute. Every time he got angry, he would throw it in my face. What life has taught me is not to tell people your weaknesses because they’ll use them against you. I’m so glad Izzy helped me get out of that situation.
Izzy grabs the dice, blows on them, and rolls them on the board. She rolls a six and moves her little iron piece to Tennessee Avenue.
“You owe me fifteen bucks,” I say, holding out my hand, and she slaps the colorful money in my hand.
“Take your money and shove it up your asshole,” she jokes.
I hear the door swing open. My eyes widen so far I’m afraid they’re going to pop out of my sockets. Izzy and I stare at each other. I snatch the bottle of wine we just finished, rush to the kitchen, and dump it in the trash. I rush back to the living room, crouching on the lavender pillow I was sitting on.
“Act natural,” Izzy whispers.
I shake my head at her; I knew I shouldn’t have listened to her about drinking Gunner’s stuff.
“I don’t know how to act natural!” I whisper-hiss. “I’m blaming you. I’m throwing you under the bus.”
“I thought you were my ride-or-die,” she says, her doe eyes moving back and forth between me and the living room door.
“That ship done sailed the minute we got caught.”
Footsteps slap against the wooden floors and another man’s voice bounces off the walls. The voice sounds familiar—it’s deeper than Gunner’s, but smooth. When they stroll into the living room, I suck in a breath at the lovely sight in front of me. Gunner sports a gray polo shirt and dark denim jeans. Bags hang under his eyes, and his hair sticks up. He looks rough and boyish at the same time. He’s as beautiful as a rainy day in April when raindrops glisten in trees and the green leaves look well-nourished after the rain.
Then a guy strolls in behind him. No wonder I recognize his voice. He’s one of Gunner’s friends from college. His name is Matteo, and the rumor on campus was that he’s related to the famous Italian Mafia family Rizzo. That his grandfather shot his brother in cold blood because of greed and jealousy.Datelineand CNN shoved that story down everyone throats. Since his family had the biggest murder case in the country, he hates his last name.
In college, he was a drug dealer and now he owns a few well-known clubs throughout the United States. He has a God complex and thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I guess I would think that too if every time I turn around, women fall at my feet. And he will go to great lengths to screw you over while smiling in your face. His body is a walking canvas, covered in tattoos from neck to toe. The tattoo of a skull is smiling at me from the back of his hand. He has a bald head and strawberry-blond beard. He’s built like Dwayne Johnson, muscles stacked on muscle, and he has a face that makes women’s panties wet. He looks lethal in his expensive navy suit.
