Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,7

again, I suck as much life out of my cigarette as I can and rub my forehead. I need to get laid. Preferably before this shit drives me into an early grave.

Which is exactly where I’m headed. I accepted it a long time ago. There’s never been a chance of redemption for me. I know how the real world works, and it’s not pretty. To get ahead in life, you have to play dirty. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn’t, but I’m sure as hell not going to beg anyone for anything.

Especially Luciano Ricci, a man who doesn’t care if I rot in prison or in the ground. He made that perfectly clear when he turned his back on me.

So, once again, I’m on my own.

“Fuck playing by the rules,” I grumble.

It takes a minute to register the glass of whiskey sitting in front of me.

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Chapter Four

Dominic

Normally, I have a one-track mind. If my mind is on business there’s no room for pleasure. However, there’s something about this girl’s whiskey-soaked molasses voice that hits like a punch straight to my dick.

“Mind if I sit?” she asks, slipping into the vacant chair beside me.

“A question usually asked before a person sits down.”

Her eyes flicker to my cheek and the corners of her mouth twist up. “How’s your face?”

Great, comments from the studio audience. “Mind your own business, lady. I’m kind of having a bad day here.”

She drums her nails on the table. “Aren’t we all?” As I narrow a hard stare at her, she extends her hand. “I’m Angel by the way.”

I don’t want to know her name. I want her to shut up and leave me alone. She’s claimed way too much of my personal space, and it’s fucking with my ability to make rational decisions. Still, there’s something about her. A presence that radiates off her in waves.

“Good for you.” I drag the drink toward me, thinking she’ll leave, but she doesn’t budge, keeping her hand shoved in front of my face like I owe her something. I tell myself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know just how short my fuse is right now. Because if she did, she sure as hell wouldn’t be poking a stick at it.

“Usually, this is where you tell me your name,” she prods. “Or, it’s cool. I can just make one up for you.” Cocking an eyebrow, she leans back in her chair. “I’m thinking you look like a Dick. So, pleased to meet you Dick.”

“Dick, huh?” Despite my shitty mood, I smirk and take a drag off my cigarette. “Keep it up, cupcake. I like my women bratty.”

Her answer is to glare at my hand. “You’re not supposed to smoke in here.”

And she’s not supposed to waltz over here and shit all over my night.

I ignore her, hoping she’ll get the hint to move the fuck along. Instead, two fingers pluck my cigarette from between my lips then drop it in my drink.

“What the hell is wrong with you, lady?”

Springing to her feet, she lifts my glass and taps her fingernail against the edge of it while motioning to the purple-haired bartender. “California smoking ordinance states you have to be twenty feet away from a building to light up, champ. Besides, those things can kill you.”

“Dare to dream,” I grumble.

Angel’s subsequent laughter irritates me even more. “Well, aren’t we the angry, brooding con man.”

“Is that an educated guess, or are you throwing shit out to see what sticks?”

“Oh, I had your number the minute I laid eyes on you.” Giving a slight roll of her eyes, she tips a hip against the worn table. “If you think you’re the first one I’ve run across, you’re mistaken. However, I’ll humor you.” Nodding toward the now defiled whiskey, she adds, “Next one’s on the house.”

“Your boss is okay with you handing out free liquor?”

Her smile widens as she stares at my cheek again. “Let’s just say the free show was enough payment.” She turns to leave. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

“Your number would be nice.” I have no intention of using it. I’m just a bastard.

The smile fades into a scowl. “Wow. I’ve never heard that one before.”

This girl has a bite, a fact that invigorates me way more than it should. I love a good challenge, but it’s not just the thrill of the chase egging me on. It’s the fiery olive-green eyes staring back at me. Deep

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