Page 61 of Velvet Cruelty

“Miss Whitehall?”

“Coming,” I yell, my voice much higher than usual.

I try for subtle, tiny dabs of foundation and peachy eye shadow like I had at my wedding. At the last minute, I add glossy lips and lots of mascara. I don’t know if it looks good or like a little girl raided her mom’s makeup bag, but you can tell I tried.

I walk over to the lingerie. I’ve been avoiding looking at it until now. I pull everything on with my back to the mirror. It takes ages to attach the straps hanging from the pink belt to my stockings. As soon as I get one on, another pops off.

Mr. Gretzky knocks on the door. “We need to get moving.”

I manage to attach the last clip then glance at the mirror. My mouth falls open. I look… I don’t know how I look. The bright pink bra and panties bring out the ivory notes of my skin. You can see my nipples through the sheer material and the line of my… down there. But it doesn’t look tacky, it looks subtle and kind of pretty.

Whoever picked out the underwear has great taste.

I pile my hair onto my head and turn, studying the lines of my body. Grown-up. That’s how I look. Grown-up and sexy. I shake my ass in the mirror and smile. What are the guys going to say when they…

I wince. What is wrong with me? This isn’t a game. This is my life. What happens when I leave this room decides my future and I’m prancing around in my underwear like a moron. Doc’s right. I’m like a Disney girl, rebelling against her stage mom. I release my hair and vow to stay focused.

My St. Christopher medallion is beside the sink. I pick it up, ready to slide it into my bra cup but realize everyone will be able to see it. I can’t leave it here and I wouldn’t put it on Bobby’s chain even if I had it on me.

A hard rap on the door. “Miss Whitehall, we’re done.”

I look at the medallion and for a crazy second, I think about swallowing it. Then I shove it into the side of my bra. There’s a risk whoever I’m meeting will see it and take it from me, but I’m not going anywhere without it. “Coming!”

I wrap my arms around my body to try and cover myself from Mr. Gretzky.

He barely glances at me. “About time.” He grabs my elbow and leads me to another set of hardwood stairs.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying not to trip in my heels.

“Sitting room.”

My pulse jumps. Am I going to be touched or killed? Allowed to choose my future or given to someone for reasons I don’t understand? Or am I wrong about everything? Am I about be used and sent back to the basement?

We move through a dark set of double doors into a room where the only light is coming from a roaring fire. It splashes orange over leather couches. I see the backs of four men. One blond, one glossy black, one boyishly brown, one with shaved sides. My mouth dries over. They’re all here.

The hand on my elbow tightens and Mr. Gretzky drags me toward the fire. I keep my eyes on the carpet as heat washes over my body.

“Good evening, Miss Whitehall,” Eli drawls.

I know better than not to respond. “Good evening, Mr. Morelli.”

“Look at us.”

My head feels like it’s made of concrete, but I meet his gaze. He and Adriano sit in winged armchairs, Doc and Bobby are at opposite ends of a couch. The air seems to thicken around me and my chest heaves as though I’ve been running.

Eli is wearing a dark blue suit and his pristine white shirt is open at his throat. He looks like a magazine spread. Why does he have to be a murderer?

He raises his tumbler to me. “We have news for you, bella. Your time at Velvet House is almost over.”

My heart stops. “Are you going to kill me?”

He smiles indulgently. “No. But you’ve been in that basement long enough. We’re sending you to Naples.”

My legs wobble as if the floor beneath me is moving. “Naples?”

“Yes. My cousin Gio lives there. He can find you a job and a safe new home. Would you like that, bella?”

“Of course,” I say automatically. What happened to my choices? Is this part of the plan to mess with Mr. Parker? Will any of them go with me? Or are they lying, and I really am about to be strangled with string after all?

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