Page 79 of Dukes of Peril

His erection stabs at my lower belly, but for once he doesn’t make a move. He just holds me, eyes still shut. If it weren’t for the changed rhythm of his breathing, I’d assume he fell right back to sleep.

“How’d the meeting go last night?” I ask, reaching up to snag someone’s discarded shirt–Remy’s from the rich cologne scent of it–off the headboard. As much as I’d love to stay in bed all day, we all need to be on campus in the next hour.

“Good,” he mutters, arm clamping hard around my waist to hold me down. “Perfect. Flawless. I’m a god among mere mortals.”

I slide up to sit against the headboard, easily escaping his grip, and his resulting groan makes me grin. “Modest, too.”

“What happened last night?” Remy shifts, drawing my gaze to him. His mussed hair lays over one eye, and when I reach over to sweep it away, it squints up at me, green and annoyed. “What meeting?”

“Just a little product demonstration.” Nick frowns as I slip the shirt over my head, covering my tits. “Standard Duke stuff.”

Remy rubs his eyes, pushing up onto an elbow. “What does that mean?”

Nick sighs. Aware that we’re not going to let him go back to sleep, he opens his eyes and begins, “After that bullshit with Saul, I’m looking for new customers.Non-alumni.” Nick and I share a significant look. It’d been his idea, and although I doubt it’ll make much of a difference, having a backup cash cow to milk isn’t the worst idea.

“You’re doingwhat?” I look up and see Sy in the doorway. Archie is lazily draped over his arm, unconcerned by the suddenly tense set of Sy’s posture. “Alone?”

Nick waves dismissively. “It’s fine. Ballsack and Porterfield were with me.” Sitting up, he scrubs a palm over his face.

Sy’s forehead creases in astonishment. “Ballsack and Porterfield? Are you fucking with me right now? You’re setting up meetings and carrying product around town–Saul’sproduct–to find customers outside his system?” His eyes, having grown exponentially bigger, eventually bug out. “You could have been ambushed!”

Nick’s eyes roll. “We weren’t. I did my due diligence. Give me some credit here.”

“Are you hearing this?” Sy’s eyes pin behind me, on Remy.

“Yeah, I hear it.” Next to me Remy shakes his head, raking his hair back. “Nicky, this sounds pretty fucking foolish, even for you.”

“Foolish?” The corded muscles in Nick’s neck tense and he glances at me. “Do you want to tell them or should I?”

“Tell us what?” Remy sits up now, the sheet pooled around his waist barely hiding his morning erection. He looks between us. “Fuck. What now?”

Sy is wearing the same expression.

Dread.

Clearing my throat, I give Nick one last bracing look before explaining, “We were called into Saul’s office the other day to discuss the alumni poker game. You know, the one after the festival?”

Nick snorts. “You’re worried about ambushes? Well, he had a goon waiting for me on campus.” He jerks his chin at me. “And fucking Ewing pulled her out of class and hauled her in with me.”

Well, there goes breaking it to them slowly.

Every muscle in Sy’s face hardens. Before he can speak, Nick holds up a hand. “You may want to put the kitten down. It gets worse.”

Sy puts the cat on the bed, muscles already rippling as Archie makes a nest in my lap. I’m grateful, because after we take turns explaining what went down in Saul’s office, from the elevator ride to the big blackmailing video reveal, and then the specifics of the entertainment I’m supposed to provide at the poker game, Sy reacts by slamming his fist into the bedroom door.

“I’ll kill him,” he says, voice dripping with rage. “I will fucking kill him before I let anyone touch you. Do you understand?”

I jump up, stepping over Nick and grabbing Sy’s arm before he can do any more damage.

“There’s no need to kill anyone.” I square my shoulders, forcing him to look at me. “I’m a Royal woman, Sy. I was born and bred into this fucked-up system, and trust me when I say if this is all I have to do, then I’ll still make it out of this thing luckier than the rest.”

Flinty-eyed, Sy explodes, “How can you be okay with this? Letting that fucker parade you around like his whore?” I know somewhere deep down that this anger isn’t directed at me, but I still clench down on a flinch at the word.Whore. That’s exactly what Saul wants everyone to see me as, and hearing it barked from Sy’s mouth cuts at something in my gut.

Sy sees.

He always sees.

His face falls, and he surges forward, taking my face in his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that. Youaren’t–no matter what happens. You’re ours.” Slowly, he repeats, “You’re ours, and he’s using you to punish us.” The cast of guilt over his features isn’t new. I’ve seen it ever since the morning in the belfry, when he came to apologize for hurting me.

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