Page 112 of Velvet Cruelty

“I…”

“Let’s get something clear. You’re a dog, January Whitehall. A yappy little dog. And if it were up to me, I’d put you down like one.”

I stagger backward as though he shoved me, dropping the grappa so liquor glugs all over the floor.

Adriano grins and the scars on his face twist like lighting. “You’re going back in your cage.”

The cage. The small dark space where I sang and practiced ballet alone. “Okay.”

Adriano heads for the door. My limbs are loose as I stumble after him, my chest a raw tangle of nerves. He presses a thumb to the panel sensor, and I remember how he used to wait for me at the ballet studio. Whenever I walked past him, I held my breath, wishing I could disappear. His gaze seemed to follow me through locked doors and around walls, as if he was everywhere I went.

My head is rushing like it’s travelling down a freeway. He was there at my studio watching me dance. He was there when they gave me Orchard, competing to be my first.

Adriano Rossi is lying.

I tug the straps of my dress down and it falls to the floor. I’m naked except for my cotton panties. I thought I had nothing to lose, but I do. My virginity.

Adriano turns. His face morphs into a grotesque patchwork of pain and lust. My legs go weak, and I’m barely able to hold myself up but I trace a hand across my shoulders, down to my breasts. “You loved watching me dance. Would you like me to dance for you now?”

The silence is so loud it stings. I cup my breasts, running my palms over my nipples. Heat zaps through me and I let out a surprised little ‘oh.’

Adriano’s jaw tightens. “What do you want?”

“Promise to take me to my Zia and you can be my first.”

His lip curls. “You’d let me ruin you?”

I trail my fingers over my abdomen hoping he can’t see the shake in my hands. “There are more important things than purity.”

“What’s to stop me fucking you then slitting your throat?”

I take a small, controlled breath. “I don’t think you can kill me.”

He steps toward me. “What?”

Every muscle in my body thrums. If I jumped, I might break right through the ceiling. “I don’t think you can kill me because of how I dance.”

Adriano turns his face away and I know I’m right.

“You want to get rid of me,” I say quiet as a prayer. “But you can’t end my life and the others don’t want to let me go. So, take me to see my Zia and then I’ll run and never come back.”

He closes his eyes, and I realize Adriano Rossi is almost handsome, with his thick hair and full mouth. Even his silvery scars are kind of pretty. Then his eyes flick open and all I can see is his cold, empty gaze.

“You think my brothers will let me lose you?”

“They’ll forgive you. What you four have is bigger than me.”

“It was. You fucked everything up.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“Heartbroken,” he spits the word like it sickens him. “All three. Not talking. Not eating. Because of you.”

His eyes fall to my breasts, and I feel him turning like a handle on a door. He shoves his gun back into its holster. “I’ll fuck you then I’ll take you to your Zia. Then you can get on a plane to South America. Chile or Brazil. You’ll have to figure out everything on your own. Learn the language. Probably clean houses or suck cock for money.”

I ignore the sudden pressure in my stomach. “I don’t care.”

He moves closer. “You’ll never see the others again. If you even dream about contacting them, I’ll kill you.”

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