Pregnant with the Mafia's twins

LevMid-twenties?”“Something like that, with ginger hair just aboveher shoulders and lips like a red candy apple,” I reply, tapping the ash off the end of my cigar.“Not on the floor, fucking dickhead. I told you about that,” my uncle Valentin says, coughing as he shakes his head. He’s had that cough since I was born. I swear I remember it from the day my mother first brought me home.“It’s marble. It’ll come off with a quick mop,” I reply, waving my cigar over the gallery floor. A few extra ash flakes flutter down.Valentin curses under his breath, glaring at the ash like it’s a cockroach. “I can never have anything nice with you around. I’m sure you scared that girl off the moment you opened your mouth. No twenty-something artist wants anything to do with an old man like you. Those days are over.”“Maybe for you,” I mutter, puffing smoke into the spacious room. Valentin has been hounding me to stop smoking in here, talking about the smoke yellowing the paintings, but nobody comes

ElizaIpush my hair behind my ear as I put the finishing touches on the painting outside the boutique. I’ve been anticipating Lev, but he hasn’t made an appearance. Of course, hewouldn’t just show up here again for no reason, but I feel like I need to be prepared in case he does.Maybe he forgot something, one last luxury item to grab from the store on a rare sunny autumn afternoon. I wonder what he does for a living to afford such expensive things. I’ve been in that store once, more out of curiosity than anything, and I couldn’t believe the prices.Of course, everything is quite beautiful, but in what universe is it normal for jeans to cost a thousand dollars? In my hometown, you’d get them from the little shop down between the pancake place and the postal service, and they’d always be priced the same – $19.99. That never changed in the ten years I was shopping there.I’d be lucky to get a pair for ten times that here, but I’m probably not going to be doing any shopping for a long

ElizaAlright, now I know he’s coming on to me, but what the hell am I supposed to do? I don’t want to be too easy, or be treated like a whore who’s willing to perform sexualfavors in exchange for his help. I’d be passed around to all his rich friends, and they’d line my pockets with cash while using me like a toy.I cross my legs behind the canvas, trying to squeeze out my impure thoughts. I hate that I’m so turned on by the idea of him sharing me. I don’t want to be that kind of woman. I came here to do art. I’m a painter!I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly and trying to make my face turn a lighter shade. I know I’m red. I have a pale complexion, and I’m sensitive. All someone has to do is look at me wrong and I blush.But he hasn’t suggested that I do anything sexual for him. That’s all my doing. Those are my thoughts, and there’s no way for me to know what’s going through his head right now. For all I know, he’s just a nice man who appreciates art and wants to help my ca

LevI almost feel guilty for what I did to Eliza yesterday. She’s never going to be able to be with another man without craving that kind of treatment, and the number of men whoknow how to do what I did to her are few and far between.I own her pussy now, and nobody else is going to touch her unless they want every bone in their body shattered. Eliza doesn’t know that I would kill for her, and I pray she doesn’t find out the hard way. If this ex she’s been talking about attempts to find and reclaim her…Then I’m going to prison for murder.My demented thoughts are only proving Valentin more correct, but I’ve lost control. The beast is loose, and all it took was a kiss.But even amidst my newfound sexual obsession, I haven’t forgotten the promises I made Eliza. She’s more than an object for my amusement, and I don’t want her believing that I only want her for sex. I recognize her talent, and I’m willing to give her the leg up she needs to make it in the art world.It’s a cutthroat in

ElizaAsher’s hand is warm, but something about his eyes makes me reluctant to trust him. I know he works with Lev, who, despite his intimidating appearances, hasbeen good to me, but Asher isn’t the same.His image is softer, a lot of browns and tans hanging over a skinny frame. He should be less threatening, but there’s an opportunistic edge to his gaze, like he’d be willing to take advantage of you if you were especially weak.He reminds me of a coyote – lean, weak, but growing desperate. I can almost see his fangs when he smiles. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance,” he says, his voice soft and slow.I smile, but it’s only my mouth moving. My eyes are watching him closely as he lets go of my hand. “Nice to meet you.”Lev, perhaps sensing my discomfort, interjects. “How many openings do you have for her work? I’d like to get things in as soon as possible.”Asher leans back, rubbing his short auburn beard and frowning. “I’d like to see the work beforehand, but I could give you pr