Page 63 of Velvet Cruelty

“Yeah, she’s sweet.” Bobby drawls, and I wonder if he’s drunk. He sounds drunk.

Doc takes a step toward me. “Morelli. Give the word.”

“What’s your rush, Domenico? Bella, would you like a drink?”

“Um, I’m okay.” One of my heels has slipped between my legs and I realize I’m leaning against it, rubbing myself on it. I make myself go still. “Could I maybe just go back to my cage, please?”

Doc’s hand shoots out, fastening around my neck. “That’s enough talking, Tits. Morelli, make the call.”

I sputter with indignation, but everyone ignores me.

“What do you think, Bobby?” Eli says in his slow, melodic voice. “Should we give her the Orchard?”

I look to Bobby, my eyes wide, pleading. He can still save me. Protect me.

He drains his drink. “Do it.”

My heart falls as Eli smiles. “Okay. Domenico, go ahead.”

Doc shoves the tip of the fish in his mouth and bites off the red cap. “Open up.”

I press my lips together and shake my head.

Doc’s thumb brushes my cheek. “Come on, baby. Don’t make me force your pretty jaw open.”

I can smell something coming from the capless little fish. Something sweet and weirdly familiar.

Doc looks at Eli. “Permission to hurt her?”

The scent grows stronger, and it clicks. Jolly Ranchers. That’s what it smells like. Green apple candy. ‘Orchard’, Eli called the drug. That must be why. Because it smells like apples. But what does it do?

“Tits,” Doc’s voice is irritable. “Here’s the deal. You wanna speak to your Zia Teresa?”

I gasp. “Seriously—”

He hooks a finger into my cheek and before I can blink, liquid splashes down my throat. I try to spit, to bite, to pull away, but it’s already gone. I’ve swallowed it. Doc removes his finger and tucks the empty fish into his pocket. “Done.”

Eli laughs. “Underhanded.”

“Effective.” Doc’s eyes glitter. “No going back, Tesorina.”

My mouth is slick with the sweetish aftermath of whatever was in the fish. “What… what’s going to happen to me?”

“That’s the fucking question, isn’t it?” Doc throws himself back onto the couch beside Bobby. “Shouldn’t be long.”

Eli drums his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Estimate?”

“Fifteen minutes. Maybe less. She hasn’t eaten for a while.”

All four sets of eyes turn to me. In the firelight, they seem like gods deciding my fate. I should probably do something, convince them not to do whatever it is they’re planning, but there’s a golden glow in my stomach and it’s spreading through my veins like honey. I feel good. I feel very, very good. And though it’s impossible, I’m almost sure I’ve felt this way before.

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