Kiss It Better
I let go of her dad, who drops to the couch, sucking deep breaths of air, and follow her back there to find her going through her closet and stuffing things into a rolling suitcase.
“Don’t forget the sexy lingerie,” I say with a smirk.
“Oh, the sexy lingerie that I don’t own?” she replies.
“Come on, every girl owns sexy lingerie. How old are you?”
“Nineteen. And I guess I’m the exception.”
She’s not lying. Being a debt collector for the mob, you get pretty good at figuring out when someone’s bullshitting you and when they’re not, and right now, Fabiola’s not. On one hand, I’m disappointed, but on the other hand, that’s a good sign for me. That means Fabiola’s never had anyone to buy sexy lin
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