From Playboy to Plaything: Owned by the Mafia Don
My eyes narrowed at the big house that felt more like a prison most of the time.
Win the game, get the applause, drink until you can't feel the silence waiting for you at home. That's the playbook, it works every time.
I smirked and crashed on the couch, watching the others dance as girls swooned over them.
“Who's that bitch over there?” I whispered to Davon, staring at her as she winked at me.
Davon’s eyes narrowed at me and a soft smile tugged across the corners of his lips.
“Who cares?” And we chuckled together. “Go get her man,” he pushed me up and the other boys cheered.