Page 91 of Velvet Cruelty

“Yes, Mr. Morelli.”

I like the way she talks, husky and sweet, just the way a woman should be. “There’s one thing left,” I tell her.

Her green eyes shine up at me. “Yes, Mr. Morelli?”

I pull the ruby necklace from my pocket, the stones glittering in the bedroom light.

She pulls away from me.

“You don’t need to panic. No promises will be made because you wear this necklace. I just want to see it against your skin.”

She shifts back even further onto the bed. “I don’t think… I just…”

My good mood vanishes. For all her beauty and gratitude, she’s acting like a child. I shove the necklace into my pocket. “Fine. Put on your makeup and come downstairs.”

Her face falls. “Mr. Morelli…?”

“Do not keep me waiting.”

I find my men sitting around the freshly cleaned dining table, all of them well-groomed and drinking wine. This is how Velvet House should be.

I sit at the head of the table and raise the glass of Montalcino that’s been poured for me. “Salut.”

“I was just saying Parker’s acting strangely,” Bobby tells me. “Sealing himself in his office with his counter chief.”

“You were expecting him to do something else?” I ask.

“I was expecting threats. Him biding his time worries me.”

Doc throws a chunk of bread into his mouth. “Let him sit around and sulk. Gives us more time to look into this Orchard bullshit. I’ve tracked down an ex-girlfriend of his in Monaco. I’m trying to reach out and ask if she was ever overwhelmingly horny in Parker’s presence.”

“Good idea,” I say. “If we get confirmation we can—”

Everyone turns to the doorway. Bobby goes red. Doc’s jaw hangs. Even Adriano stares. It’s January Whitehall, in record time and she looks fucking delicious. I stand and the other three follow.

She raises her hands then lets them flutter back down to her sides. “Hi everyone…”

“You look like a movie star,” Bobby blurts out, then looks mortified. I expect Doc to make fun of him but he seems incapable of speech.

I move toward her and hold out a hand. When she takes it, sparks run up my arm. I lead her to the seat at my left.

“What a pretty dress, Tesorina,” Doc says slyly. “Did Morelli buy it for you?”

“Yes.”

Doc raises his glass to me. “Good choice.”

I bite back a smile as I fill January’s wine glass from the decanter.

She touches a hand to her blood-red lips. “I probably shouldn’t drink.”

“You shouldn’t be rude either, bella,” I say, passing her the wine. “I’m your host.”

She raises the glass with two hands and sips, a tiny shiver passing through her.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” she says with an unconvincing smile.

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