Page 97 of Dukes of Peril

I rake my fingers through my hair, already regretting this conversation. “I know things didn’t work out with all of your… Dukes.” God, this is weirder than telling her I lost my virginity. “But that’s the thing. I get it now, that this isn’t something that comes easily. I fucked up with Lavinia–bad, and more than once–and we still worked through it. She’s the right one,” I tell her, feeling this from the bottom of my soul. “Forus. She gets Remy. Like, really gets him.” I snort. “And God, Ma, she might be the only person in this world who can actually handle Nick.”

That makes her expression ease, because I know these are her real questions. Nick, Remy, and I aren’t normal men. We’re a mess–always have been. “And what about you?” she asks.

“Me?” I rest my elbows on the counter in front of my birthday cake. It’s red velvet–the same every year, just the way I like. “I gave her my journal,” I whisper, keeping my voice low. When I glance up at my mom, she’s frozen, searching my eyes. I’ve never let anyone read my journals before. “I know I don’t talk about it much, but I think… I think I was really messed up when I met her.” Lavinia dragged me from the edge of a place so filled with anger that it was eating me up inside. She showed me patience and care while dragging me out of that dark place of doubt and rage, over and over. She taught me to understand myself, and that women weren’t my problem.Iwas the problem. I could tell Mom all of that, but I don’t, because in the end it’s shockingly simple. “I love her. She makes us… better. Connected. Not new or different, just…” I struggle to find the word I’m looking for.

My mom knows, though. “A family.”

Something in my shoulders unwinds at the realization. That’s it. “Well, she needs that just as much as we do, because her own family is fucked all to hell.”

She frowns at my language but asks, “And you’re sure she can get past the things you had to do to get to this place?” She pulls the collar of her shirt to the side, revealing the puckered brand right above her heart. Although she normally hides it, it’s been a presence our entire life. I don’t—no,can’t—think about what she went through to get it. She lets me look at it for a brief moment before covering it again, saying. “Some things can’t be undone, Simon.” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her mention her past with my fathers in anything but a happy light.

“We didn’t brand her,” I say quietly, squirming under the weight of her stare. “Remy marked her with a tattoo. That was enough.”

Her head snaps back in surprise. “And Saul is okay with that?”

My lip curls. “Saul doesn’t get a say in how we manage our Duchess.”

“Hm.” The corner of her eyes crinkle with skepticism. “Well, you never know, I suppose. Maybe things will be different for you.”

“They will be.” I say this with absolute conviction. “No one is going to hurt her again. I wouldn’t let them, and neither would Nick or Remy.” I don’t say that the three of us are willing to give everything for her, but from the worry in my mother’s eyes, she still hears it.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she says.

Before I can find a way of reassuring her, Nick struts in, loose and easy in a way our mom probably hasn’t seen him since high school. When he passes her, ducking in to press a quick, affectionate kiss to her temple, I wave my hand.

See?

She twists to give him a long, considering look, Nick opening the fridge to grab three more beers. When he turns, he freezes, looking between us. “What?”

Mom says, “Nothing,” and fidgets with the cake, but Nick narrows his eyes at me.

“Motherfu–” he swallows the curse. “You told her, didn’t you?”

I glare at him. “Like you can judge.” He nearly shouted it from the rooftops when he lost his virginity in high school. All it got him was a lecture from mom on communicating his intentions to young girls who are prone to romantic attachments and a trip to the pharmacy to buy condoms with Pops. At least I don’t have to go through that.

“All he told me is that you’re happy,” Mom says, adding a wink.

My brother’s eyes meet mine, and as unfamiliar as the term is to us, she’s right. We are happy, and I plan to do everything I can to keep it that way.

“Mom saiddinner will be ready in ten minutes,” I say, walking into the living room.

Nick’s showing Pops the gun he got from Maddox. “Do I want to ask how he got it from you?” Nick asks.

Pops handles the gun reverently, running his thumb over the design etched in the side. The Bruin ‘B.’ He answers with a pointed, “Do I want to ask how you got it back?”

Nick pauses before sinking back into the couch, crossing his arms. “Touché.”

As curious as I am to know the answer to that question, I know it’s futile. Nick and Lavinia have been pretty quiet about what transpired in the Baron’s crypt. “Hey.” I look down at Remy, nudging him with a loose fist. “Where’s Lav?”

He twirls his marker around his fingers and jerks his chin toward the stairs. “Washing up, I think. Want me to find her?” I shake my head before the seed of eagerness in his eyes can grow. Normally, Remy loves chatting with our dads, so I know it’s not the company. It’s her. Lavinia.

All three of us are hooked.

The house isn’t big, a modest two-story bungalow with a basement. By the time we were in middle school, it was clear two growing boys, along with two adult men, were not going to fit in the current footprint. Instead of moving, they blew out the back of the house and the attic. They used our old rooms to build a large ensuite and then expanded upstairs for me and Nick.

I jog up the stairs, noting that the hall bathroom light is off, door open. I peek my head into Nick’s room, but it’s empty. I look in my old room next, finding her standing by the dresser, looking at a photo of me and Nick standing on the edge of a dock. I was about fourteen, Nick thirteen. We’re posing like Mr. Universe, puffed out chests, straining to produce biceps. We were scrawny little shits, but Dad and Pops had recently agreed to workouts.

“Hey.” I lean in the doorway, thinking that fourteen-year-old me would have absolutely fucking died at the sight before me. A hot girl in my childhood bedroom. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

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