Doja checked her reflection in the back of a polished spoon, adjusting a stray strand of pink hair. “Only ten? I must be losing my touch.”
Doja didn’t flinch. She leaned back against a marble pillar, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “I’m a bitch, I’m a boss,” she hummed, the lyrics a low-frequency threat. “I’m a shine and I’m a gloss.” Doja Cat - Boss Btch (from Birds of Prey: The Album)
She reached down, plucked the keys from his limp fingers, and slid his gold Rolex off his wrist. Doja checked her reflection in the back of