Page 28 of Velvet Cruelty

“I want her. On her back. On her knees. On my face. The fucking works.” He looks around the table. “This is me staking a claim and you bastards better respect it.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” I say lightly. “Because I want her.”

Doc’s eyes narrow. “You said the rest of us could have her.”

“True. But now I’ve seen her, my opinion has changed.”

Adriano returns to eating like nothing has happened, but Bobby looks like he’s about to be sick. Velvet House doesn’t have a traditional family structure. The rules are the ones we made ourselves. But I am the boss and my brothers know it. Which means if I want Miss Whitehall, she’s mine.

Doc lets out a long sigh. “Fine. We can share her.”

“You don’t share. You can barely let other people choose music in the car—”

“That’s not—”

“Besides,” I say loudly. “I want Miss Whitehall as my mistress, which means she’ll have official standing in my household. She won’t be passed around Velvet House like a whore.”

“A mistress?” Bobby asks. “But you’re not married.”

“Not yet, but once this Parker business is done, I’ll get engaged.”

Doc laughs. “To that watch guy’s daughter? You said she smelled like asparagus.”

I press my fingertips into my temples. It is a miracle I have not killed this man. Of all the benefits of getting married, not being in daily proximity to Doc is top of the list. Smart as he is, perceptive as he can be, he’s an utter lunatic. Without Adriano’s protection and my money, he’d have been in Bayview Correctional years ago.

“It doesn’t matter who I marry. The point is I’ll be married by the summer. Keep your calendars clear.”

“So what?” Doc asks. “You get married and kick us all out of the house?”

“What do you think our future holds? My wife and children eating dinner with us every night? The four of us living in a frat house forever?”

“You could not get married.”

“I’m almost thirty-four. I need heirs.”

Doc rocks back in his chair. “So where will January be while you’re out shopping for a wife?”

“My mistress will not be your plaything while I’m away. I’ll send her somewhere else.”

“Seems like a waste of pussy,” Doc mutters. He clears his throat. “I have a better idea. She should come work at Dreams.”

Bobby chokes on his noodles. “As a stripper?”

“No, as a fucking bouncer. Of course, as a stripper.”

“What’s your justification for that?”

Doc shrugs. “She’s hot. We can make money off her. And she’s had all those dance lessons. Plus, how’s Parker gonna feel when we send him vids of her working a pole?”

A valid point. The man spent a fortune in private security keeping boys from touching January’s arm in homeroom. He might have an aneurysm watching her give out lap dances, which would be funny.

Doc lowers his chair, his eyes on mine. “I’m thinking long-term. Security at the club’s airtight. Parker’d have more luck abducting her out of The Hague. And if anyone threatens her in there, they’re asking for trouble with Danil Yamlihanov. Half the pole koalas are sucking off his boys.”

I smile. “You’re making more sense than usual.”

“Just imagine it,” Doc says with a grin. “Baby Whitehall, shaking her tits for strangers. She’ll be fucking humiliated.”

“And you’ll have access to her whenever you want. If she’s in your clubs, she’s as good as yours.”

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