Page 60 of Velvet Cruelty

Chapter Eleven

January Whitehall

I fall silent as I hear someone on the stairs. I ate and washed hours ago and I usually sleep before I see Mr. Gretzky again. But here he is. “What’s going on, Sir?”

“Get up, Miss Whitehall,” he says, unlocking the cage.

I stand. “Am I going to see Mr. Morelli and the others?”

Mr. Gretzky beckons me forward.

I must be seeing them. Maybe they’re bringing me upstairs to find out who I’ve chosen? Unless I’m out of time and they’re going to kill me and that’s why Mr. Gretzky hasn’t put the bag over my head. The idea should scare me, but aside from a souring in my mouth, I’m a little excited. After days that bleed together at least this is something new.

The bright downlights hurt my eyes as I walk into a wide hallway with walls that are half polished wood, half cream.

“This way.” Mr. Gretzky leads me past dusty China vases and statues on little wooden stands. On the cream parts of the walls hang oil paintings of cows and knights and pretty olive-skinned women. The thick carpet I’ve felt beneath my feet a dozen times is blood red. I don’t see or hear another soul as we make our way through an unending labyrinth of staircases and hallways. Velvet House is empty.

Eventually, Mr. Gretzky pauses at a wooden door with a gold handle. “Go inside. Wash and dress.”

I wait, but he doesn’t give a time limit the way he usually does. “How long should I take?”

A pained expression crosses his face. “As long as you need.”

Maybe I’m having dinner with the four of them? A last meal before Adriano strangles me with a long string or whatever it was in that movie Lachlan used to love. I open the door and walk into the familiar bathroom. Lingerie is waiting where my clothes usually are. A sparkly pink bra, matching thong and garter belt, black stockings, and a pair of shiny black pumps.

“Oh,” I whisper. “Oh… shit.”

I approach the lingerie with the tiniest of steps. I lift the panties. They’re so small, they can’t even be called underwear. “F-Fuck.”

Thoughts twist through me like fire. Adriano might not murder me in lingerie, but I don’t think my virginity isn’t going to last the night.

Are they still going to make me choose between them? Who should I pick? I’ve had days to think about their offers and I still don’t know. Eli will get bored of me in a month, and I obviously won’t pick Adriano killing me. The smartest choice would be to marry Bobby, but he killed Kurt. If he did worse things once I was his wife, I’d only have myself to blame. Choosing Doc and working in his strip clubs seems like the easiest way to find or buy a phone and call my family. But it also seems like the fastest way to spend time with Doc who is the meanest and carries a knife and spat in my face—

There’s a loud knock on the door. “Miss Whitehall. Shower.”

I jump. “Yes, sorry.”

My hands shake under the hot water. I don’t want to lose my virginity. Without it, the force field against the men who brought me here will be gone. I won’t be worth protecting. And Adriano told me that once his brothers slept with me, he’d kill me.

Actually, he said once they’re bored with me, he’d kill me. Maybe I can entertain them? But how am I supposed to entertain three dangerous men, one of whom owns strip clubs? I don’t know anything about sex. And once the novelty of being my first is gone…

Then I can’t lose my virginity. I’ll just have to do whatever it takes to stay untouched.

Another knock on the door. “Get moving, Miss Whitehall.”

I frown. For saying I could take all the time I needed, Mr. Gretzky seems impatient. I turn off the shower and wrap a big towel around myself. There are more things in the bathroom cabinet than usual, a tiny bottle of vanilla perfume, a row of Dior lipsticks, and a Yves Saint Laurent eye shadow palette.

I knock on the door. “Mr. Gretzky… am I supposed to put on makeup?”

There is a pause and I’m sure I hear him swear. “Yes, Miss Whitehall.”

I feel bad for him. Whatever his normal job is, he really hates dealing with me. I learned a lot about that from Theodore and Kurt.

Kurt… I picture his body, blank-faced and bloody on the plastic tarp. Whatever happens, I will not lose my virginity to Bobby. It doesn’t matter that Kurt was creepy and bad at his job and sold me out to Eli. He didn’t deserve to die. But then I think of Bobby kissing me in my cage, his arms around me. I think of the way he looked at me when he talked about us living together. “Stop it,” I tell myself. “Just stop.”

I’m not very good at makeup. I wasn’t allowed to wear any to school, and it was done for me when our family went to events. I also have no idea who I’m dressing up for and I’m sure they’d all like something different. Bobby definitely likes the ‘girl next door’ look. Doc would want glossy lips and contouring. Eli seems like a guy who’d appreciate glamor—red lips, and fake lashes. Adriano…

I remember him staring at me through my cage, the lamplight carving shadows into his scarred face. You’re not worth raping. The mascara I’m holding skitters out of my hand and onto the tiles.

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