Page 85 of Dukes of Peril

Killian and Dimitri laugh. The Lady rolls her eyes, but they all look like they’re having a great time.

Saul is sitting in the best seat in the section, alone, a sour expression on his face. Like Sy, he’s not pleased with the impending defeat. They bet so much money on every match, I can’t imagine what kind of hit his wallet is going to take tonight.

The thought almost makes me want to throw my own.

Almost.

Not quite.

“Lionel’s a no-show,” Sy says, nodding over to the Counts’ empty box.

“Good,” is all Lavinia says, voice hard and toneless. All of my sources say Lionel has gone underground, probably licking his wounds from the failed hit, not to mention being down two daughters and his best Count. Also noticeably absent is the Baron King.

No–Maddox. Remy’s dad. The guy who’d dragged my best friend away in high school. The boring stiff all the whores at the Hideaway used to dread giving head to.

That’s still going to take some getting used to.

I know Ashby is here, though. I saw him earlier, on my way up here. I scan the gym now, wanting to catch a glimpse of his satisfied expression before I wipe it off his face with his best Prince’s loss. It takes a few minutes to find him, but when I do, he’s by the judge’s table.

Standing next to him, dressed in all black, her shirt cut low and in boots so high the heels look like weapons, is Mama B.

I watch as the two have an interesting exchange.

Huh.

“Hey.” I nudge Sy with my elbow and he reluctantly tears his eyes away from the shit show on the floor. Quietly, I ask, “That’s weird, right?”

He looks to where I’m gesturing, forehead scrunching. “That they’re talking? I don’t know, man. All these people go so far back, we’d need diagrams to connect all the lines.”

True. Our parents and their muddied relationships with all of the Royals is evidence of that but— “Look.” I lift my chin, jolting him. “He just touched her.”

Sy’s shoulders tense. “What, like he hurt her?”

“No. Like this.” I turn to Lavinia, who’s sipping a beer of her own, and rest my hand on her shoulder. Slowly, I drag my fingertips to her wrist.

She turns to face me. “Hey. What’s up?”

I smile. “Nothing.”

“Okay, weirdo.” She rolls her eyes and refocuses on the match.

I look back at my brother. “See? It’s weird.”

He shakes his head, but at that moment, Wicker gets a final hit, knocking Bruce flat on his ass. I guess what Wicker lacks in power, he makes up for with speed and stamina, because minutes later, he’s gotten the best of a DKS. The floor turns into utter chaos—upsets always do. The Princes and their sorority girls explode into excited, inebriated celebration, while the DKS boys and the cutsluts throw cups of beer and trash on Bruce’s dazed body.

“Shit,” Sy hisses. “Come on, Remy, we better get down there.” He palms my shoulder. “And you and Lavinia better hurry up and get your ass dressed, wrapped, and in that ring. Don’t leave these animals without entertainment for more than thirty minutes. They’ll tear this place apart.”

I give a lazy salute, knowing it’s enough time for the boys to get another beer, but not long enough for people to get restless.

I grab Lavinia’s hand, but she’s the one pulling me down the stairs.

“Hey, what’s the rush?”

She tosses me a glare over her shoulder. “You’ve got people down there waiting, Nick, and despite your earlier show of suprememodesty, I’d personally feel better if you went into the ring prepared.”

I scoff. “Thirty minutes is plenty of time to take off my clothes and get taped.” I’m already warmed up, having spent a couple hours on the bags before Bruce’s bout began.

Crisply, she says, “Yes,” and then arches an eyebrow at me. “But is it enough time to do all thatandeat my pussy?”

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