I turned onto my side and faced him. "I don't understand. We haven't had any new girls come."
"There's a warehouse full of them, Zell. He sells them for money."
My eyes widened. "Really?"
Frankie sighed. "Yeah. It's disgusting."
"I hope you come up with a plan soon."
"Me too." We stared at each other for a few seconds. "Now, we need to pretend for the cameras."
"Oh, I thought we were." We were naked in bed. I thought that was enough since he said we weren't going to have sex.
"Nope, but she doesn't know what she can't see."
I furrowed my brow. "What do you mean?"
Frankie grinned and pulled the covers over our heads. "She can't see through the covers."
"True." I beamed. "You're so smart."
"No, I just know how to work around shit." He kept his gaze on my face, not looking at my naked body under the covers.
The more Frankie and I talked, the more I was starting to really trust him. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad idea. "Please don't hurt me."
He arched a brow. "I would never. You can trust me. I promise." He stuck out his pinky.
"What are you doing?"
"Making a pinky promise."
"What's that?"
"The ultimate promise between two people. You hook your pinkies together and kiss your thumb."
"What happens if the promise gets broken?" I questioned.
"Death."
"Death?" I gasped.
Frankie chuckled. "I'm kidding, but breaking a pinky promise ends friendships."
"You're my friend?" I considered him my friend, but I wanted to know if he thought we were too.
"Of course I am."
"Good."
We stared at each other again, and Frankie's gaze moved to my lips and then back up to my blue eyes. In that split second, I realized that I wanted him to be my first kiss. I wanted to feel those butterflies in my stomach that I'd read about. I wanted to know what it was like to feel his lips against mine, his tongue swirling with mine. My gaze lowered to his lips, and then back up.
"You want to kiss me, Zell?"
I nodded, and then without hesitation, Frankie leaned in, and I had my first kiss. It was everything I'd hoped it would be.
When I’d gone to the penthouse, I didn't think Zell and I would be naked in a bed kissing. To be fair, I didn't know there were cameras in the rooms—my dad had failed to mention that—but then again, I could believe that there were cameras. I didn't know who frequented the brothel, but knowing my father, he'd want dirt on everyone in New York City. So, I had to come up with an idea on the fly because I didn't want some bitch watching me.
Our lips broke apart, and Zell slowly opened her eyes. "How was that?" I asked, the sheet still pulled over our heads so the cameras couldn't see us. Hopefully, the sheet was moving as though we were doing stuff.
"I liked it."
"You want to do it again?" I smirked.
She nodded with a huge grin, and I didn't hesitate as I brought my lips down upon hers once more. The entire time we made out, I had to make sure I didn't get too close so she didn't feel how hard I was. If she was any girl from school, we wouldn't have only kissed. I would have gotten laid or a blowjob, but Zell was different—obviously. Not only was she new to all of this, but she was also so naïve. It was what drew me to her. I wanted to show her the world—literally. I wanted to be her first in every aspect of the word: kissing, sex, friendship.
We broke apart again. "More?" I asked.
"Yeah, I like kissing."
"Me too." I really enjoyed only kissing Zell and not going further. So, we kissed until it was time for me to leave. My balls were literally aching, and I had to do something about it before I exploded on my sweet, innocent princess.
"I have to go," I announced as I broke our lips apart.
"When will you be back?"
I sighed and rolled out of the bed, trying to hide my erection before grabbing my boxers. "I hope soon. It all depends on my father and what he has planned."
"I hope it's soon too."
I got dressed and kissed her goodbye, not worrying about the cameras. "I'll be back," I reassured her.
"Okay."
I exited the room. There was no one waiting for me. I'd expected Madam would want a verbal confirmation on how Zell did like last time, but she was nowhere in sight as I made my way to the elevator. I gave a quick nod to the guy standing outside of the elevator doors. He was a different guard than the one I'd seen last time. I decided to introduce myself since I'd become his boss eventually.
I stuck out my hand. "Frankie Russo."
He took it. "Marcus."
"How long have you been working for my father?" I took in his appearance, noting that he was a bigger guy. Not necessarily stronger than I was, but he definitely had more fat. The other guard that I had seen was slim and could probably take me in a fight. I had to find out what the others looked like, so I could determine my best chance of getting Zell out when I had the opportunity.
"Six, maybe seven years."
I nodded slightly. "Nice. You'll be seeing more of me."
He grinned. "Because of Zell?"
"No, because I'm taking over." Though I did plan to come back as much as I could to see Zell. I had to pretend it was all business, just like my father.
"You are?"
"Yep."
Without another word, I pressed the button for the elevator and the doors opened. I wished I could take Zell with me as I got in and left, but I was confident that one day, I would. I didn't know how or when, but I would make it happen. The entire time I was with her, I’d felt as though it was my first time with a girl because we only kissed. I knew it was her first time, so I was taking things slow with her, especially since I didn't think anything would happen. I'd only gone back to check on her and to get a lay of the land, so to speak.
There was one guard by the elevator, and that was it, but now that I knew about the cameras, I realized I couldn't get in and out undetected.
I needed a solid plan.
The next morning, my father wasn't home from his so-called business trip, so I took the opportunity to go through his desk drawer. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I felt as though I would find something—anything—that would give me a leg up. Though, as I looked in drawer after drawer, I realized that a criminal operation like his wouldn't leave a paper trail. I wasn't even sure why he had a home office.
Taking my cell phone out of my pocket, I pulled up the locator app that told me where my father was so I would know how much time I had left to snoop in his office. To my surprise, it couldn't locate his phone. I'd never known him to ever turn off his cell, and it made me suspicious. What was he up to?
Since I didn't know how much time I had left, I quickly went through the rest of his office. I knew there was a safe around. I didn't know the code, but if I found the safe, I was going to try to get in there to see what he felt was important enough to keep locked away. And what I knew about safes was that 99% of the time they were behind a picture. So, I looked behind the four works of art hanging on the walls, and of course, the fourth had the safe behind it.
I tried my father's birthday first, then my birthday, then my mother's birthday. I tried their anniversary date, our address, and then 6969 for the hell of it. None of them were the four-digit code, and I sat back down in his leather chair and stared at the safe, thinking. What other important numbers or dates could it be? I stood and tried 1234, then 1111, 0123, and 9876. Nothing.
I sat back down in the chair again and looked around the room as though it would give me a clue. Shockingly, it did. My gaze landed on a picture of my dad with his father and twin brother, and since he had the same birthdate as his best friend—my uncle—I decided I was going to try the date of his death. The only problem was that I didn't know the date it had happened.
With a little help from the internet, I searched for Dominic Russo's death a
nd found the date he died. Shockingly, it was on numerous news websites. I'd assumed that I wasn't going to find anything because he died at the warehouse where they trafficked women and cops were on the Russo's payroll, but there it was in bold letters:
Ten Slain in Warehouse Shooting
There was a picture of the warehouse with bodies covered by white sheets, and as I read the article, I wondered how my father had pulled off getting the women out of there because there was no mention of sex trafficking or missing women. In fact, it didn't mention that my father had been there at all, or what the warehouse was used for. It only said that Dominic was the son of Giovani Russo, who was a generous benefactor to multiple police organizations in New York City. And then, of course, I had my answer: my family paid off cops.
I scrolled back up to the top of the article, noted the date it was written, and then tried the day before that date as the code for the safe.
It opened.
Inside were the usual stacks of cash that one would see inside a safe—at least on TV—and a box of cigars. There was my parents' marriage license, my birth certificate, the deed to our apartment, the one for the penthouse, and another deed for a property in Roxbury, New York. I had no idea what property that would be, so I grabbed my phone and searched the address. It brought up land in the Catskills Mountains, and when I used the satellite view, I saw a tiny house or cabin at the location. There was nothing for miles and miles surrounding the cabin, and it struck me as odd that my father would have a property so far from civilization when his entire operation was dealing with people. Was that where he was now since I couldn't track his phone? It made sense that cell reception would be poor that far from the main road, but why would he be there?
I made a note of the address in case I ever needed to know it.
He was keeping it a secret for a reason.
I lay in the bed for several minutes after Frankie left. The feel of his lips was still prominent on mine, and I was savoring the moment. That was until I heard the clicking of Madam's heels coming down the hall. I hurried and got out of the bed, grabbed the black dress from the floor, and slipped it on, not caring that I had no bra or panties on under it. As the clicking got louder and louder and louder, I started to strip the bed of the sheets.
The clicking stopped, and I looked up, seeing Madam in the doorway. "You didn't have sex," she stated.
My heart sank, and my mouth opened. "I …"
"Why not?"
"He—"
"He what?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "He didn't want to?" I nodded, not saying anything. Madam gave an evil laugh in response. "Oh, Zell. He's an eighteen-year-old boy. Of course, he wanted to. It was you that didn't."
"No!" I shouted and shook my head. "I swear."
She narrowed her dark gaze. "Don't lie to me, girl."
"I'm not," I pleaded. "He just wanted to kiss."
"You better hope so. If I hear otherwise from his father, there will be hell to pay."
I swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."
Madam stared at me for a few more seconds before she turned and walked off. I didn't move as I listened to the sound of her heels become fainter and fainter until I couldn't hear them anymore. I waited an extra minute to make sure that she was gone before I moved and finished cleaning the room.
Just as I was leaving to go up to my room, I heard the clicking of her heels again. I ran for the back stairs, not wanting to encounter Madam again. I wasn't fast enough.
"Zell!"
I stopped in my tracks just inches from the doorway to the stairs and slowly turned, looking down at the floor. "Yes, ma'am?"
"You're not going to see that boy anymore," she stated.
My gaze snapped up to hers. "Why not?"
"Something fishy is going on, and I don't like it."
"I don't understand."
She rolled her black eyes. "I reviewed the last hour on the tape, and I'm certain something is going on."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't argue with me, girl. I'm your mother, and I forbid you to see him again."
"But you already let me. Twice," I reminded her.
"I know that, Zell," she snapped, "but now that I've seen what goes on behind closed doors, I don't like it. You're up to something."
"I'm not," I whined.
"No boy comes to a whorehouse only to kiss." She placed her hands on her hips.
"Frankie did!"
Madam's head ticked slightly. "Frankie? You call him Frankie?"
I sucked in a breath. Was calling him Frankie wrong? He told me that was his name. "Yes," I whispered.
"It's Mr. Russo, not Frankie," she spat.
"But he said—"
"Don't talk back to me, young lady. You do as I say."
"Yes, ma'am." Did that mean I was going to get to see him again because I was to call him Mr. Russo? I didn't want to argue with her any longer. "Is that all?"
Her gaze narrowed. "For now."
I turned and ran up the stairs. I should have known that Madam was going to ruin the high that I was on.
She was such a witch.
After crying myself to sleep, I dreamed about Frankie. I dreamed that he came back and rescued me from my tower, and we rode off into the sunset, and I never saw Madam again. I didn't care that she was my mother. I hated her. I hated her so much.
A knock sounded on my door and then cracked open. "Just checking to make sure you're awake," Erin stated. She checked on me every morning to make sure I was up for breakfast and school.
"I am," I whispered, not turning over to look at her. I was already awake, the sun shining in my face, but I didn't move or get out of the bed.
"Are you okay? I thought you'd be dancing around the room this morning since Frankie came to see you."
"I was happy until Madam said I can't see him anymore."
"Why not?"
I heard the door close, and I looked over my shoulder to see that she had come into my room. "Because she thinks something fishy is happening between us. I don't even know what that means."
The bed dipped behind me. "Did she watch you on the cameras?"
"Yes."
"And what happened?"
I told her about Frankie telling me we were going to pretend to have sex, how we got naked and slid under the covers, and how he pulled the sheet up and over us so Madam couldn't see us on the cameras. Then I told her how he kissed me and how magical it was and how we kissed the entire time and how I never wanted it to stop. I finished my story about how Madam came in and scolded me, forbidding me from seeing Frankie anymore.
"I don't think she can do that," Erin stated.
I turned over finally and faced her. "Really?"
"She could if he were any other client, but this is Mr. Russo's son, and Mr. Russo is the boss."
"But she's my mom. Can't she stop him?"
Erin lifted a shoulder. "She couldn't the first night."
I stared at her for a few seconds. Erin was right. Madam had tried to stop it, but Mr. Russo insisted, and she’d given in. She’d sold her virgin daughter to his son. "What's going to happen when he comes back?"
"I don't know."
I didn't either, but I knew that he would return because I trusted him now. He told me the first time that he would be back, and he did come back, so I was certain he would again. It terrified me to think about what Madam would do, though. Could she forbid Frankie from seeing me as she’d threatened? I didn't know how her relationship with Mr. Russo worked, but even Frankie told me that his dad was her boss. That had to mean something, right?
"Is something fishy going on?" Erin asked.
"No, of course not."
She narrowed her eyes. "Zell, I know your heart is breaking, but you can tell me."
"Nothing fishy is going on." I didn't know what that meant, but I said it anyway.
"So, he didn't tell you that he was going to get you out of here?"
I drew my head back a little. "Is that fishy?"
"O
f course it is."
"Why?"
"Because you can't leave."
"I can if the boss takes me, right?"
Erin arched a brow. "The boss?"
I sat up and crossed my legs. "Frankie said that he's becoming the boss."
"Really?"
I nodded excitedly. "His dad is teaching him how to take over."
"And then what?"
I shrugged slightly. “Then, he will take me out of here."
"Zell"—she squeezed my knee that was under the covers—"you need to be careful."
"Careful?" I arched a brow.
"I know you think that everything will be okay just because Frankie will become the boss, but Madam is still your mom. You're only seventeen, and you need to abide by her rules."
"I'm almost eighteen," I told her as though she didn't know. The girls were the only ones to remember my birthday, which was in two short weeks.
"I know, sweetie, but we don't live a normal life."
"I know that."
"I'm honestly worried about what will happen when you turn eighteen," Erin admitted.
"Why?"
"Because I'm scared that Madam will think it will be okay for you to see clients."
"As in … as in sex?" I questioned.
"Yes."
"But I'm still a virgin," I reminded her.
"I know, and that makes me even more nervous."
"What do we do?"
She was silent for a few seconds as she stared at the lone window in my room. "I don't know, Zell. The girls and I might need to teach you everything we know."
A tear rolled down my cheek. I didn't want to be with anyone except Frankie. He made me feel comfortable. He made me laugh, and he never once made me do anything I didn't want to do. "Maybe Frankie will come for me on my birthday," I suggested.
"Does he know when that is?"
I shook my head. "I didn't tell him the exact date."
Erin wiped my tear. "Well, just in case, I think we need to teach you more than what's in our textbooks."
When my father told me that I was going to learn the other half of his business, I'd assumed I would stop selling drugs for him. That wasn't the case. I was still selling to people at school whenever they needed something. I tried to leave my stash at home, but my father had stopped me on the way out the door and asked where my bag was. The bag he knew I carried the drugs in.
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