Page 137 of His Pretty Little Duet

I spit at him, the crimson fluid landing on the bludgeoned mass of his body. "Much better." I regain my resolve through deep breaths.

Slowly and calmly, I climb to my feet and turn to face the rest of my guests, knowing the sight of their colleague's blood seeping into my clothes will churn their stomachs.

I open my arms wide, smiling reassuringly, the metallic flavour of blood moving across my tongue as I speak. "I will not punish anyone else for his mistakes." Walking to the bench, I collect a towel, casually wiping the red fluid from my face and hair. I speak as the white towel is slowly dyed red. "Boxing is atthe core of my Family. At the core of theCosa Nostra.I realised yesterday that not everyone has the same respect for the sport. You have never been in the ring, no? And so, I insist you embrace it.

"Every Sunday, I will welcome you all to my gym, where a member of your firm will be nominated to fight. I pick the opponent. And Vincenzo,"—training my gaze to his stern but respectful eyes, I make clear—"the Irish will be here too. Our entire operation will be welcome.Equal." I turn back to the bench and begin to pull my shoes on. They will not only be welcome, but participation will be compulsory. I don't need to articulate this, of course.

"The winner will get twenty thousand dollars, and the loser will… also get twenty thousand dollars. We will do business here after. We will bleed here. We will be aFamilyhere." I walk towards the freezer chest on the back wall and open the thick lid, white vapour emanating from the gap. "I have a gift for you."

The three men approach carefully, and I watch Lucky Louis peer hesitantly into the steaming cold pit of the freezer. His face relaxes when he sees thick pink legs of pork.

Staring blankly at him, I notice he is fighting to look away from the tightly wrapped meat, still sure he'll see something unseemly. I lift a leg up to offer him, and he sucks a rough breath in when the side of a human head previously hidden beneath the produce comes into view. Dull brown eyes stare absently up at us.

I confirm, "The boy who broke into my warehouse and costusmillions of dollars in weaponry. The other boy is below him." I hand Louis the leg, smiling smoothly through the corner of my mouth. "For your family,Lucky."

Lucky, indeed.

For now, I might be able to keep their loyalties through fear, but it won't be long before they forget what brought them to myside. Wooed by the green I stuff into their fists; they'll forget about Joe. Enchanted by the lifestyle my generosity will ensure, they'll become loyal. And they'll be bonded in blood in the ring, intoxicated by the power rushing through them after their first win. But, of course, the lessons they'll never forget after their first beat down?—

Constructed camaraderie at its finest.

Nevertheless, I have a war on my hands.

What I need to do now is to get my sisters-in-law, my youngest brother, Xander, and my little deer out of the damn District while I bleed the streets with the biker scum safe-housing Dustin. I need to lie to my family.

To keep them safe.

Fawn

Maggie and Jasmine natteras I pull the scones from the oven. Waves of scented heat suffuse my nose, making me hum my delight. I plop them on top of the counter, panning my gaze over the browning tops in approval.

Nailed it.

Spinning to find Jasmine already peering over my shoulder, the glee of expectation widening her eyes, I smile, not at all surprised by her presence. "Surely you aren't hungry again? These are big scones."

"I've only had a handful of Maltesers."

I tilt my head. "Ah, what about the egg and bacon pie, the chicken and avocado roll, and the jelly cup?"

She arches a mocking brow at me. "That is otherwise known as breakfast, lunch, and a snack. Now, give me a damn buttermilk scone."

I laugh, waving for her to help herself.

Then, the entire house prickles with static. Jasmine twists to face the entrance to the kitchen. Everyone figuratively behaves. The natter quietens down, the enchanted crockery all freezesinto place, and my heart flutters to see— Heels make a dominant rapping sound of importance.

My smile slips slightly as Aurora sashays past the kitchen, rounding the counter. Then she is out of sight, but for her perfume, that adds a floral sophistication to the rich scent of the buttery scones.

She has a similar aura to Clay. For a moment… I thought it might be him home from work.

I dart my gaze to the scones, wondering whether I should offer her one. Then I picture her figure so— She is probably a kale and edamame bean girl… Yet another way she is like Clay Butcher. His words float into my ears, coaxing my lips into a smile again."I am rather addicted to sweet things lately."

I untie my apron.

Plucking a scone from the warm silicon mould, I slide it carefully onto a plate with a knife and butter pouch and wander after her.

I find her sitting on the sofa in the living room. Her dark hair cascading like a silky night-time waterfall down her slender figure. Her spine is relaxed to the backrest, her legs folded elegantly, hands set on her thighs with the old book braced softly in her lap, and she looks even more stunning in this effortless evening state.

It's hard to bury the creeping vines of envy; it is hard to ignore her flawless beauty, her potent femininity. It's fuckingimpossibleto ignore the huge diamond on her ring finger; the facets create all the colours of the rainbow every fucking time she turns the page.

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