Page 31 of Velvet Cruelty

Chapter Six

January Whitehall

This is worse than a nightmare. Nightmares end and this goes on and on and on. What kind of people have a basement cell in their house? Or was it made for me? It’s hard to know which idea is scarier.

I lie on the single bed with the limp pillow over my face, waiting for something to happen. My stomach gurgles non-stop. In the corner of the cage is a small, walled-off bathroom with a toilet and sink but no shower. I can drink from the tap, but there’s no food. I think it’s close to three days since I’ve eaten. I take out Zia Teresa’s St. Christopher and run my fingers around the edges.

When I woke on soft red carpet in a beautiful house, I thought I’d been rescued. Seeing Doc’s awful smirk, my hopes died a second time.

Domenico Valente.

A poetic name for a terrifying man. The priest’s vestments hid his neck tattoos and his lean, powerful body. In a sleeveless T-shirt and black jeans, he reminded me of an arctic wolf. I remember what ‘Tesorina’ means now. Treasure. He’s mocking me. I don’t know much about people, but I know when they hate me for being a Whitehall. Lurida sgualdrina, he called me. Filthy whore.

But I’m not a whore. I’d never kissed anyone until him. I recall the way he pressed his lips onto mine and heat goes skittering through me like flame across oil.

“I didn’t like it,” I tell the cell. “He had a knife. He slapped me.”

No one answers.

I don’t like bad boys. That was Giuseppina. I crossed the street when I heard loud voices or saw tattoos. I like nice boys. Boys like…

Roberto Bassilotta.

In my senior year, I needed help with Algebra. I’ve always been terrible at math, but mom wouldn’t let me drop it. My teacher said Bobby was the best tutor in the tri-state area, so mom arranged a trial session. Quinn was so jealous.

“I almost flunked math on purpose just to qualify for his help. You wait, he looks just like he’s in a boy band.”

I thought Quinn was exaggerating but when I met Bobby in the library, I almost laughed. He had soulful brown eyes, big shoulders, and slightly stick-out ears. He was handsome in the friendliest possible way and I felt silly for liking that.

Bobby had worksheets arranged on the desk beside him, but before I could say ‘hello’ Kurt moved the sheets to the other side of the table. “Miss Whitehall will sit here.”

I was so mortified, but Bobby smiled like it was totally normal to have pushy bodyguards. “No problem, January. Take a seat and tell me where you’re having the most trouble with math.”

We met three times a week after that, sitting opposite each other, going over my homework and practice exams.

“Don’t call yourself stupid,” he would say when I got frustrated. “You’re not stupid, you’re learning.”

“Learning how stupid I am,” I’d say, and he’d laugh.

He wore a rotation of dark blue sweaters and shirts. They always clung to his muscular chest, and he pushed up the sleeves so I could see his strong forearms. I used to fantasize about touching them. I knew if mom found out I had a crush on Bobby, she’d stop our tutoring sessions, so I never talked about him. The only time I ever said his name was during my confessions to Domenico.

Doc must have loved hearing my pathetic little fantasies and telling Bobby everything I said.

I press the pillow harder into my face trying to smother away the shame. He must see me as such a child. A crushed-out schoolgirl telling her priest about her math tutor. So embarrassing.

Why do you care? a sharp voice in my head demands. He killed Kurt.

But it’s hard to hold that knowledge in my brain. It doesn’t feel real. Not real the way Bobby coming down the stairs was real. He was wearing a shirt I’d seen a million times at Trinity Grammar and all I could think was ‘Oh my God, Bobby will save me!’

But he looked different. At school he was always a little awkward, here he was agile and confident. And when he looked at me, his expression was hard.

Somewhere inside the basement, I hear water dripping. Plink. Plink. Plink. It’s lucky I’m not the kind of person who gets stressed out by background noise. Mom would go crazy down here. Is she with the police? Or are she and Mr. Parker trying to handle this privately? I hope not. The men upstairs would tear anyone they’d send after me apart. Especially…

Adriano Rossi.

Ridiculously tall and even more tattooed than Doc. His light brown hair is so thick, it looks almost greasy. Long on top and shaved around the sides. He has a short scrubby beard and a proud nose all twisted from being broken. A gold tooth flashes when he talks. And those eyes, those Holographic green eyes. I should have recognized him at the cathedral. He was always waiting in reception at my ballet studio, staring so intently that for once I was glad Kurt and Theodore were with me. And when I started my lessons, he’d watch me dance through the windows of our classroom.

“He’s a pervert,” Nadia told anyone who would listen. “He’s taking underwear out of lockers when we’re not looking.”

---