Borgata - Book II #wattys2016

Chapter 4: Bunny

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This is quite intense. ;)

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I didn't sleep a wink that night, in my temporary bedroom, but it wasn't because Fico was trying to turn me into a home wrecker.

Ok, maybe that was a little bit of the reason.

The fact that Fico had the nerve to almost have sex with me, when he was in a relationship with another woman, was sick. How could he have taken advantage of me? Why was I even shocked that someone like him, a criminal, would do that to me?

I was angry in more ways than one. And one of the reasons that I was angry, to my own disgust, was because I was jealous of his girlfriend. I wasn't about to deny it. All I'd imagined the entire night was what kinds of things he did to that woman once they were alone. I knew this jealousy would get me in trouble. It made me weak. And if Fico knew I was jealous, he was the type of man to take advantage of it and try to get between my legs again.

I rolled over and repositioned my pillows again. The room was freezing. I'd forgotten what air conditioning felt like, since my air conditioning in my apartment had broken a month before, and I was too paranoid to let someone into my home to fix it.

Through the curtains over the massive windows in the guest room, light shone in and danced along my comforter. Would one of Fico's workers come wake me up? I obviously couldn't sleep forever, when he'd told me I now had work and chores. I decided I was a hopeless cause, trying to sleep at all and it was best to just get up and get ready.

There was a knock on my door. My heart skipped a beat, and I reached for the knife under my pillow. Was it Fico? That made me slightly excited. Stop that! There was another knock. I crawled out of bed with the knife hidden behind my back. I was wearing a bra, a big t-shirt that went to my knees, and shorts. The shirt was soft, red, and vintage looking. I'd found it at the bottom of my drawer and wondered if it was Hulks, considering the size. It was soft. I liked it. One of the crazy fashion ladies had been kind enough to put something in my drawers that wasn't ridiculous.

When I opened the door, and to my horror,  one of the fashionistas stood outside my bedroom. And they were armed. She was well-dressed, middle aged, and held a dress and a clear makeup bag.

"Hi, I'm Dana," she said. "We sort of met yesterday."

"Where are the rest of the women?" I asked.

"They, uh...they're a little afraid of you."

I scratched the back of my head. "Oh."

"Fico would like you outside for breakfast in fifteen minutes," the woman said, her smile wavering a little bit. "I've brought you today's outfit, and I'm supposed to do your makeup—"

"You can tell Fücko that I'm perfectly capable of picking my outfits and putting on my own makeup." I noticed a group of men in suits who casually stopped to listen to our conversation. "Oh, and you also tell him that I'm not meeting him for breakfast, and that I'd rather deep throat a shard of glass than sleep with someone who probably has a million STD's, from all the whøres that he fücks outside of his relationship!" I inhaled a long breath. "Wow, that felt great to get off my chest!" Quickly, I put my hands out towards her. "Wait...please don't actually tell him any of that."