Page 54 of Dukes of Peril

Verity nods. “We always dress the part—whatever it takes to part these guys with their cash.”

“Right,” I say, my mind spinning with anxiety. Apparently my ultimate act of degradation will come dressed in a themed costume. Just fucking great. “Okay, why don’t we come up with some suggestions in the group chat over the next week, and put them to a vote?” I’ve tried to avoid putting much thought into what I’ll be doing that night. It’s a ways off, and the last thing I need to do is dwell on it uselessly. Nick and I agreed that when it comes to Sy and Remy, that same logic applies. We haven’t told them–partly to avoid any undue outbursts, and partly because neither of us are sure where Remy’s head is at right now.

“All right, ladies!” Mama B calls from the kitchen doorway. “We’ve got an hour to set up before a bunch of hungry cubs roll in.”

The girls hop up, pushing chairs under the tables. I hear a few of the girls eagerly discussing ideas for the poker game. Their energy–the excitement of people who actually get a choice–makes me chafe inside.

It’s not the stripping that bothers me. It’s been a very long time since modesty was a luxury I had any claim to. It’s the purpose of it–the fact that these alumni want to see me debased, sullied. I spent two years under Daniel’s watchful eye, dreading the day something like this would come for me. Foolishly, I’ve begun feeling a sense of security as Duchess, the knowledge that I may have to do uncomfortable things, but neverthat.

“Thanks,” I say to Verity as I walk toward the kitchen. “I’ll get that notebook from your mom after dinner.”

She gives me a relieved grin. “Seriously? Thankyou. Some of us have really been dreading this, you know. You’re doing us a huge favor.” More hesitantly, she adds, “I’m happy to help, even if that means you need me there. I don’t mind taking one for the team.”

There are times I feel bad for Verity. She was born and raised for the position of Duchess but had been overlooked when Nick set his sights on me and decided to claim his position. I can’t help but relate to the fact her whole life was turned upside down by one man’s decision.Nick’sdecision. But no matter how helpful or willing she is to assist the Dukes, I have to think she dodged a bullet. I’m not saying my Royal blood makes me stronger, but I do think it prepared me for the position. I’m not sure Verity is up to it.

“Don’t sweat it.” I shake my head, trying my best to hide my own dread. “If the only real impact I can have as Duchess is making sure the cutsluts are treated with respect, then that’s all I need.”

Passing by us, Laura overhears this, turning to give me a pleased smile. “That’s really cool of you, Lavinia.”

It’s the first time any of these girls, besides Verity, have referred to me as anything but ‘Duchess.’ It cuts through the grim tension I’ve been carrying ever since that meeting with Saul, and despite the fact I’m forced to share a space with Haley, I actually find myself feeling lighter, settled in a way I’m not expecting. As we prepare dinner, I can’t help but feel as though I have a place here, a new synergy emerging between me and the cutsluts as we pass dishes and stack utensils.

Slowly the guys roll in, pushing through the gym doors and filling the seats. I keep an eye on the door through the corner of my eye. Although I can’t put a name to the feeling that surges through me when my Dukes walk in, I also can’t deny its presence.

Anticipation? Relief? Pride?

Their eyes search for me instantly, Nick’s shoulders losing some of their tension when our gazes lock. All three of them greet the DKS boys first, slapping palms, bumping fists. Nick has his arms on display despite the cooler weather, his short-sleeved shirt pulled tight over his chest. Sy’s dressed in a navy button-down, untucked over a dark pair of jeans, and has his hair pulled back the same way he wore it the night of our date. Remy is in a denim jacket, fists shoved into his pockets as he edges into the fray.

I try not to look at him too much.

Sy’s the first to approach me. I’m carrying a heavy pot of meatballs to the table when he walks up, taking it from me. “Hey,” he says, eyes cutting to the group before he dips down to give me a kiss. It’s quick but no less scorching, his tongue licking out to greet mine. He tastes like mint gum, and I let the frisson of want that’s been lingering ever since that night up in my loft pass through me like a bolt of electricity.

“How was the meeting?” he asks. From the pink tinge of his ears, I’m guessing he’s noticed some of the people looking at us. Most of the DKS boys know about what Sy did to me. God, a lot of them actually witnessed what Sy did to me.

Now I’m the one whose face is heating. “Good. The girls seem on board.”

Nick stalks our way just as Sy’s placing the pot on the table, and I give him a smile that feels uncertain.

Nick didn’t come to my loft last night.

It was the first night since the river house that he hasn’t, and although I waited, I also felt relieved when I drifted off without the intensity of his presence beside me. Watching that video dragged up a lot of feelings that need Olympian levels of compartmentalization.

But if I’m expecting reluctance from Nick, then I’m an idiot. He saunters right up to me, hooks his hand beneath my chin, and takes my mouth in a kiss so obscene and unexpected that I stumble back a step. I make a startled sound, but when he steadies me, wrenching my body up against his, I wind my arms around his neck, welcoming the zeal. Sometimes, my feelings for Nick are so complicated that I forget just how simple the man who causes them actually is.

Nick wants me. That’s the beginning and end with him. The blessing and the curse. The rights and the wrongs.

He makes a low, gritty sound when he pulls back–not very far. “Nice dress,” he says, eyes dipping down to my chest. “I’ll take it off of you tonight.” Beneath the devious grin he gives me is a statement I hear loud and clear.

One night apart is his limit.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not coming anywhere near this dress tonight.” Beneath my eye roll is a statement I hopehehears loud and clear. “It’s my only nice Family Dinner dress.”

I won’t turn you away.

“Oh well.” He squeezes my hips tight, getting the message. “You look better without it.”

Sy turns to say, “There’s garlic bread, right?”

Noticing the hopeful gleam in his eyes, I extricate myself from his handsy brother. “Of course. This isn’t my first rodeo with you animals.”

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