The Mafia's Little Raven
Misa was surprisingly nice, a cool presence in the suffocating atmosphere of the mansion.
We had spent the last few days talking, sharing snippets of our lives, and I had learned that her real passion was choreography. Her past defiance of Madam Cha’s orders hadn’t stemmed from a lack of talent, but rather a stubborn refusal to be controlled.
“We get to take pictures and live normal for a few hours,” she had said earlier, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And maybe even have a feel of some men, let my ass shake around their crotch, make it so erect, and then just run off!”
Bab Populer