Page 111 of Velvet Cruelty

He gives me a look I can’t read. Maybe scorn. Maybe just plain disgust. “How the fuck have you convinced them to let you stay a virgin?”

A lump rises in my throat. “Maybe they didn’t want to hurt me?”

“That makes three of them.” He presses the gun harder to my forehead, but I don’t feel any fear. The alcohol is whipping through me like trails of light, lending me fire. “Mr. Rossi, I just want to know what happened to my Zia. Haven’t you ever loved someone so much you’d go crazy if they were hurt?”

“No.”

I keep my gaze locked on Adriano. I have green eyes too. Maybe like his mother or his sister. “Please?” I whisper. “Please, Adriano?”

His mouth twitches, opens almost against his will. “She got jumped leaving your stepmother’s house. Broken arms, fractured face.”

Air leaves my lungs in a swoosh. “She was mugged?”

“It was a put-up job. Parker reminding us what he can do.”

Tears well in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I leave them where they are. I don’t deserve to wipe them away. “Why? Zia’s not even my real family.”

“Use your head. Parker’s not going to go to war with the Whitehalls. He picked someone who’d send a message but didn’t have the resources to protect themselves.” Adriano’s voice is bitter.

“Is that what he did to you?”

I didn’t know his hold on the gun had slackened until he presses it harder against my skull. “The safe. Now.”

“Mr. Parker and I were walking through Central Park when he took a call from a guy installing a safe in a tree in his backyard.”

“A tree?” Adriano rams the gun into my head. “A fucking tree?”

“A-A hollow that was being expanded. They were going to install a biosafe then plant something over it. It was high up. Like fifteen feet in the trunk.”

“And Parker said this in front of you?”

I think back to that frosty winter afternoon, my red mittens and my excitement at choosing my own Starbucks order—a Venti caramel with whipped cream. That girl feels so stupidly young, like a little sister who’s gone away to boarding school.

“Mr. Parker thought I was an idiot,” I say. “He drugged me in front of my whole family. Do you really think he was afraid to take business calls in front of me?”

Adriano lifts the gun. “You were still going to marry him though.”

“Yeah, I already told you I’m not smart.” I raise the grappa and drink. This time I barely choke.

Adriano watches me swallow. “What do you think of Parker now?”

“He’s a creepy asshole.”

Adriano smiles.

I would’ve said whatever I thought he wanted to hear but the insult comes out sweet as caramel. I want to do it again. “He’s a perverted, disgusting criminal.”

His smile vanishes. “You’ve told me what you know and I told you about your Zia. You’ll go back in the cage until we repair your bedroom door.”

“Wait!” I reach out to him, and almost stagger sideways. “Sorry, this grappa is crazy-strong.”

Adriano’s face softens. “So, stop drinking, Pryntsesa.”

The nickname—whatever it means—gives me strength. “Adriano, please take me to see my Zia?”

His gaze falls from my mouth to the front of my dress. It’s ivory lace. Whoever is dressing me still favours white. I push my shoulders back. “Please?”

He huffs. “You trying to seduce me?”

---