Honey
“Well, who do we have here?” a woman asked with red-stained lips. Red-bottomed heels. In the morning, she was dressed to the nines. All of her garments seemed perfectly tailored around the flare of her hips.
Around the large swells of her breasts, a satin blouse unbuttoned to reveal the valley between them. Is it a requirement for everyone who works in the cartel to be drop-dead gorgeous? Because she looked like she had men trailing behind her every moment of the day.
She tossed long, perfectly styled, nearly black ringlets over her shoulder.
As pretty as she was, there was something off. Something cruel glimmered in her eyes and it made an inky shadow of fear creep down my spine. Her teeth were perfectly straight, but I felt like if she smiled a little wider, I’d be greeted wi
