Page 39 of Velvet Cruelty

I shake my head. It’s in the way he moves. That swagger as though the world is secretly his and he’s waiting for everyone else to notice.

“I’m northern,” Doc says finally. “My mom’s family came from Milan. Dad from Vercelli. Or that’s what mom said, I never met the prick.”

He gives me a look, as though daring me to ask about his absent father. “What about the others? Where are they from?”

“Basher’s from Dovadola, the Morellis are from Naples and Adri’s a mixed bag. Roman dad. Ukrainian mom.”

For some reason, I can picture Adriano’s mother, green-eyed and pretty. You can see her in him. The beauty mixed in with that swarthy, scarred face.

“You pissed Morelli off, asking if he’s a mafioso.” Doc smirks at me as though we planned this together.

“I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

“Morelli’s Nonno on his mom’s side was mobbed up. The old guy wanted to give Eli the empire when he died, but he couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Can’t pass a dynasty down the maternal line. Not when you’ve got a son. Morelli’s cousin Giovanni’s a dipshit, but he’s blood, so whaddya gonna do?”

I think of my stepmom. Her Bugatti. Her Chanel suits. Offering Margot to Mr. Parker and settling on me. Whaddya gonna do?

“So Eli is a Morelli, like the New York Morelli family?”

Doc gives me a sly smile. “Yeah, but he’s not a big dick player where they’re concerned. His old man’s the third son.”

Just like me.

So even if he’s Italian royalty on his mother’s side, Eli Morelli is just a third son’s son. Maybe that’s why he called his business Velvet House, he’s leaning into his mother’s fancier name.

I feel Doc watching me like he can taste my thoughts. “Not as goofy as you come off, huh?”

“I’m not goofy. I just wasn’t very good at school.”

“You got that right. You don’t have the grades to shill essential oils, but you still got into Fine Arts at Colombia.”

I look down at my lap. I never should have gotten into Colombia, but mom and Mr. Parker wanted me to go to college. They said it would make me a more accomplished wife.

“I don’t want to get a degree.”

“And you think that makes it better? Pushing out someone who did want to be there?”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

Doc and I glare at each other, and I half expect him to leave. He jumps off the bars and there’s a jangle of keys. “Coming in, Tits.”

My cell seems infinitely smaller with Doc pacing inside. I can smell him, that sharp boozy cologne, fresh soap, and clean skin.

He pauses. “You done being a virgin?”

I say nothing. If this is his pitch, it’s awful. At least Eli brought rubies.

“…because if you are done being a virgin, we can wrap it up right here, right now.”

I picture him on top of me, all that wiry aggression forced down onto my body, and my pussy flutters to life. How long does it take to get Stockholm syndrome?

“What? You want Morelli to bust you open with his golden dick instead?”

Eli asked me the same thing about Doc. Maybe they have some kind of problem with each other? That could come in handy, although I don’t see how.

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