Page 122 of Dukes of Peril

Loving Nick Bruinshouldhurt a little bit.

He breaks away with a low grunt, lashes fluttering open to reveal blazing eyes. “I’ll have to make it convincing. That doesn’t mean–”

“I know,” I assure him, touching the hard plane of his chest. “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

Nick releases me, backing up against the curtain. “So can I,” he says, reaching up to thumb my lipstick from his mouth. “Remember the first time we met?”

A slow, mischievous grin rises to my lips. “Are you sure?” I ask, bending to adjust the strap on my shoe. “It might hurt.”

“Oh, Little Bird…” He spreads his arms, smirking back. “Wouldn’t be any fun if it didn’t.”

21

Nick

There’s a saying:what you fear is what you create.

I know I created this moment. Because why would something so good, like hearing Lavinia finally tell me that she loves me, be tainted by being forced into this position?

It’s like the pit all over again, except this time I’ve broughther,my Little Bird, with me.

But no matter what I do, the fights I win, the men I kill, I will always be this man. Except now I’m also the man Lavinia Lucia loves. And that,that, is what drives me when the sole of her strappy high-heel meets the center of my chest, sending me stumbling from behind the curtain.

It’s been a while since Lavinia kicked the shit out of me.

I think I might have missed it.

She comes barreling at me and I grab her easily, hauling her up onto the stage with a showy sneer. The alumni jolt into action, ready to take her down, but only for the amount of time it takes me to dump her in front of the pole. I know it wasn’t intentional, but she looks the part, eyes still wet from her apology, two perfect mascara streaks running down her pink cheeks as she spits a sharp, “Fuck you!”

Looking out over the tables, I see all the guys perking up in excitement, scooting their chairs closer. One of them barks, “Make her pay!”

“She’ll get what she deserves,” I promise them. I flick Sy and Remy a look as I shuck off my jacket, hoping they see this for what it is. Since they don’t exactly have the best track record, I’m relieved when the tight, furious scowl on Sy’s face smoothes into a stoic expression.

Remy’s eyebrow twitches.

They know what’s going down.

Thank fuck.

When she goes to cower away from me, she trips on her heels, and it’s only then I notice the slight limp. That didn’t happen from the kick. One of those fuckers hurt her, and now I’m going to have to reinforce that.

“Strip her down, Bruin!”

“Show us her tits!”

“Bend her over, Bruin! Fuck her like a Duke!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Remy roars, his voice cutting through the mayhem. I realize that he and Sy have positioned themselves at the edge of the stage, Neon and Ewing between them. They know better than to try to stop this—none of us can at this point—but they’ll let me and Lavinia do this our way.

I raise my hand to her, flicking my finger. “Off.”

She scowls out at the men as she grips her robe, parting it only a scant few inches. I can practically hear every man in the room breathing more quickly as she reveals a glimpse of the bustier beneath, taking her sweet time actually taking the robe off.

Pretending to be fed up, I lurch forward and grab it, yanking it forcefully off her shoulders. The robe flutters to the floor, revealing her pale, perfect skin, and the most dangerous black lace and satin I’ve ever seen.

“Finally!” Someone whistles, and it doesn’t matter that they’re being lied to here. The thought of them all getting off to the way she’s holding herself, reluctant and tense, still makes me want to give that seventeen-bullet strategy a try.

My eyes flick to Sy. “Give me a chair.” There’s a moment where I’m sure he’s going to chuck it at me, knock me out cold, but he grabs one of the folding chairs from a nearby table and tosses it up to me, not saying a word. I yank it apart, placing it a few feet away from the stripper pole. I sit, nodding to the DJ behind the stage. “Play something for the Duchess to dance to.”

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