“The Hills?” I choked.
I hated the awe that shook in my voice.
He turned his head to look at me with a smirk. “I see you’ve heard about them, at least.”
I nodded, looking out the window.
The Hills were a collection of islands that ran off the coast of PortCity. Only a few families had access to them, and unsurprisingly the Giovenni’s were one of them. When I had first moved here, the parties in the Hills were all the rage.
I’d avoided them and any talk of them like the plague, throwing myself into work. I didn’t want to find myself in the same trapped loop my parents had, and the parties in the Hills definitely had trouble written all over them.
“Have you ever been?” he asked.
Drugs, booze, money, skin—you could find anything among the Hills but that also meant that it wasn’t uncommon to hear the horror stories too. Some people who went to those parties never came back.
There were whispers of hunts, races to the death, on those islands. Jaymes had been invited once, and I’d nearly blown a gasket when he mentioned going. I don’t know if he ever kept to his promise to never go, but I hoped he did.
“No,” I looked at him, “To be honest I might not have gotten in this car if I thought we were going there.”
“What a shame,” he shook his head, “Then we wouldn’t have been able to finish our game.”
“A game you’re losing,” I reminded him.
“Patience, little Lexi, in time you’ll be coming so hard you won’t be able to remember that petty fear of the Hills.”
I swallowed.
“Take your shorts off.”
“Excuse me?” I choked, looking up at the open partition. The man was still staring straight ahead at the road, thankfully.
“Your shorts, you’ll need to take them off.”
“And why is that?” I whispered harshly.
Don didn’t seem to care to lower his voice. Hell, he might have yelled it across the country for how loud he sounded, his voice thrumming in my ears like a bell knoll, “So you can touch yourself for me.”
“The partition is open.”
“I thought we already established you liked being on display?”
My jaw dropped as my eyes frantically looked around the leather seats like it would bring me any ounce of relief or reason.
“Not to people who don’t consent.”
“Voc?”
“Sir?” The man up front answered, back.
“Would you like to see our princess touch herself?”
The man hesitated, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment.
“You can speak truthfully, Voc. Your eyes will remain in your head either way.” Don laughed, but I didn’t find it one bit funny. I was absolutely mortified by the way my stomach tightened at the thought of having to strip in front of this complete fucking stranger—at how badly I wanted him to say yes.
“Valentina-”
“Need not know.”