Page 2 of Devilish Debt
Particularly in the bathroom of my favorite club, The Kastle.
“Oh, do not pout, Fiorenzo,” insists the rectangular head shaped male, redirecting my attention to his smirking.“We have sources in similar circles.”
That’s not nearly as fucking comforting as he thinks it is.
Leaning defeatedly back into the chair occurs at the same time I grump, “Why am I here, Weslington?”
“Please,” he feigns politeness, “call me Thaddeus.”
“I’d rather call an Uber.”
Another smug smile is attached to a small fork waggle.“I was warned you had quite a sense of humor.”
“At least you were warned of something.”Folding my light sand toned fingers together occurs on my own phony grin.“Can’t say the same.”
Seriously.
I hadnofucking clue this asshole wanted to see me.
Or even knew who the fuck I was.
Yeah, my reputation precedes me and shit, but like…you wanna talk?
Try texting me, my guy.
Thaddeus stabs another hunk of meat on his plate and announces, “I have a job for you.”
“I’m not looking for work.”
“Pardon,” haughtily chuckles the prince as he meets my gaze, “let me rephrase, Fiorenzo.”The expression instantly shifts to one that’s arctic cold.“You are going to do a job for me.”
See.
This is the shit I’m talking about.
The shit Disneydoesn’tshow unless you’re the “villain”.
Which all of those so-called princes really are.
Check ‘em out in the original formats.
They’re cruel, horny monsters.
Full stop.
End of Snap.
Cut the Tok.
Post stealing an annoyed glance out of the floor to ceiling windows currently showcasing Spike Village’s downtown skyline, I less than happily huff.“And why’s that?”
“Because you owe me debt.”
“I don’t owe you shit.”
“I would beg to differ.”
“You can beg, borrow, or barter, my guy, but it doesn’t change shit.”
