My Pretty Little Kitten

Gianna God no. It couldn’t be him, right? I slowly unclasp my hands from his waist, pulling away as if that will make this a nightmare and not reality. "Who... what?" I stammer, my voice trembling. He turns to face me, the soft glow of the streetlight outside casting shadows on his face. My knees give out and I fall to them, the cold pavement pressing against my skin. What is he doing here? "Why are you here?" My voice cracks despite my best effort to sound strong. "I came to see my best friend. Why else would I be here, kitten?" The nickname cuts through me. Five years. Five years of silence. No calls, no texts, not even a goodbye. I swallow back a sob. "He's not here, so why are you here?" A small smile tugs at his lips. "I did plan to leave, but he convinced me to stay with you. Said something about a rebellious phase and that I’m the only one who gets you." I step back instinctively. My heart races. Dmitry Orlov. My first and only love. The man who kisses me with fire in

Gianna I glare at him so hard my eyes nearly fall out of my skull. He is really doing it. He is actually trying to use my brother’s situation as leverage, and if anyone else fails to see it, I sure as hell don’t. “No.” The word slips out before I can think it through. I lace my fingers with Kevin’s, even though I have no clue what I’m doing or why it makes sense. All I know is that I am done. Done with the games. Done with Dim walking in after years and acting like my life is his to rearrange. His expression doesn’t even twitch. “Sure thing, you can leave with him. At least I know I tried.” He pulls out his phone like none of this matters. Kevin leans in from behind me, his breath brushing my ear. “You can stay with me tonight and head home in the morning.” I nod automatically, but my mind isn’t on him, or anything he’s offering. My chest hurts at how easily Dmitry dismisses me. Why does it bother me this much? What is wrong with me? I don’t want to leave with him, yet the secon

Gianna I rest my head against the window as memories of tonight wash over me. Kevin, my boyfriend? What am I thinking? That’s the issue. I never think when it comes to Dmitry. I’m just an impulsive little… argh. I rub a hand over my face. Hating myself won’t fix anything now. I still have to figure out a way out of this mess. “Ma’am, we’re here.” The driver’s voice snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts and I look up at the building in front of me. My mouth drops to the fucking floor. I turn to the Uber driver. “Are you sure this is the right location?” “Yes. Number twelve, District Drive.” I nod, forcing myself to look composed, and step out quietly. Mostly because Dmitry has already paid for the ride. Fucking asshole. I stare at the building in stunned silence. I know he’s rich, but not this rich. The building itself represents Dmitry’s personality so well, a fucking doberman of a man I absolutely hate and still want to pet. I barely have time to bask in the beauty of the

Gianna “Are you okay?” Kevin asks, slurping on his smoothie, eyes glued on me. A nod comes automatically, a smile forced into place. “Yeah.” He really is a sweetheart. Driving all the way to jerk face’s house, helping me pack what I need, then insisting on taking me out for breakfast. Well, brunch. McDonald’s buzzes softly around us. He has a smoothie and burgers, while I work on my McFlurries, barely tasting any of it. “Gia, you’re obviously worried about something,” he says gently. “Does it have anything to do with you telling Dmitry I’m your boyfriend?” My head shakes on instinct. He’s gotten the rundown, mostly. Everything except the near kiss and the uncomfortable moment in Dmitry’s room that still leaves me feeling like a puddle. “It’s not that,” I say. Dmitry being an ass is the least of my problems. Today marks the start of something I’ve been avoiding for months. I’ve officially crossed into being a real cam girl. The boudoir photos I took last night have already been

Dmitry Good grief. That’s the only thing I feel. Not anger. Maybe a flicker of jealousy. But mostly a low, almost embarrassing sense of pity for Gianna’s little poster boyfriend. The boy looks like he might piss himself just from standing in front of me. Not like last night, when he’s bold enough to try and take Gianna home. I take the liberty of looking him up. Kevin Stuart Greyheart. Old money, newer arrogance. Rich, pretty, and constantly paraded around as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. Still doesn’t come close to me. “Cat got your tongue?” I say. My voice stays level, polite enough to pass, but there’s no effort to make it friendly. Kevin drags his gaze over me, slow and obvious, sizing me up like a vegan stuck in a steakhouse. Then he laughs. Actually laughs. It sounds rehearsed, the kind you hear at dinners you don’t care about but have to survive. And for someone who lives in front of cameras he should be better at pretending it’s real. “You know,” he sa