Domenico Valente
I learned to swim in the sea. My mom never had the time or the money to take me to the pool and I never had the interest. But when I dove into the Mediterranean, I knew if I could only do one thing for the rest of my life, it would be this.
In my first few months in Naples, it was all I did. Go swimming, get drunk, pass out. I guess I was smoking too and getting tattoos. Pain, I liked. Constant little licks of pain. Burning lungs. Burning skin. But mostly it was swimming.
Once I came to shore and some middle-aged guy waved me down. My Italian was good enough by then that I understood he was telling me I had a swimmer’s build and to come to some training pool nearby. I told him to fuck off. The other guys made fun of me. Said he was trying to lure me into his van to suck me off, but I knew he wasn’t. A few years later I saw him on TV hugging some kid who just won gold at the Olympics, and I thought ‘huh, I really could’ve been Michael Phelps.’
The pool at Velvet House is only half the size of an Olympic, but it’s big enough to get a flow going. The walls, ceiling and the bottom of the pool are covered in tiny, green tiles and when you turn off the lights, you feel like you’re in a sea cavern.
I was against moving to Velvet House until Morelli showed me the pool. It almost makes up for the fact I’m living in a rich bitch monstrosity with servant quarters and a fucking hedge maze.
I swim a hundred laps in my briefs, chlorine bleaching my hair and stinging my eyes.
Alessia never learned to swim, never lived anywhere but our mom’s shitbox apartment. I’ve got lines around my eyes now, and my knees do weird clicking things when I run, but she’ll always be twenty-four. Beckett got married years ago. She and her wife have three kids and five dogs. I’m happy for the bitch. Sometimes.
I swim another fifty laps. My legs and lungs ache, but I keep going, pushing as hard as I can, and when I finally surface, I’m gasping. I slump against the tiled side, air cutting my throat like glass. I want to get out, but I don’t have a towel. Maybe I’ll stay here and drip dry. Maybe I’ll slit my wrists and bleed out in the pool.
Parker.
The idea of him being alive and me not trying to kill him is like the sun suddenly vanishing from the sky. What the fuck am I gonna do? There’s nothing to do. I’ll have to kill him. But if I sign a contract, there’s no chance. Violating it wouldn’t just mean my neck, it would be the end of Velvet House and Adriano, Bobby, and Morelli. January too. I press my face back into the water and scream, bubbles blasting out of my mouth.
How can the others be okay with this?
“Doc?”
I surface so fast my neck pops. January is sitting at the other end of the pool. She’s wearing a tiny blue sundress, her bare legs dangling in the water. I feel like someone’s ripping duct tape off my chest. She’s too much. Too bright. Too fucking nice. My thoughts return to the black visions that have replayed in my mind ever since she was abducted. Tying her up and bruising her perfect white skin, making her scream around a ball gag as spit and cum run down her face. Hurting her. Making her pay.
I stand, swiping the water from my face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Her timid smile dissolves.
“Why are you here?” I repeat.
She slides her legs out of the pool, like I might attack anyone in my terrain. “I heard someone swimming and I thought I’d see who it was.”
That doesn’t track. The pool is miles away from the East Wing and her bedroom. I fold my arms across my chest. “You watched me swim?”
Her shy smile flickers then dies again. “You’re really fast.”
I don’t want to appreciate her words. I don’t fucking care she thinks I’m good at swimming. For one thing, the girl doesn’t know shit about swimming, for second, I fucking hate her.
As we stare at one another in silence it occurs to me that this weak, pathetic little rich girl has fucked with me like no one has. She betrayed me, ran away, and got herself kidnapped by a psychopath. The same psychopath that made my sister’s life a nightmare before he took it from her. My vision goes blank, and I remember how it felt when Eli called me to say Parker had January. The helpless rage. After Alessia, I thought I was done feeling that slow, rolling panic but January brought it back in spades. I’ll never forgive her for that. Not if I have a hundred years to take it out on her body.
Before I know what I’m doing I’m swimming toward her. My head is buzzing with the promise of pain. I feel like a shark, hollow and cold. Fucking murderous.
January goes still as a statue, her pretty face a vision of terror. “Domenico…”
The way she says my name pricks at me like a stinging insect. I shake my head. “No, Tits. You don’t get to call me Domenico anymore.”
She flinches. “I, but… what should I…?”
“You could try Master. Or Mr. Valente. Or My Lord and fucking Saviour, considering I haven’t choked the life out of you yet.” I stare her down like the quivering piece of prey she is. “Actually, I don’t need you to say anything. I don’t wanna hear your lying little voice ever again.”
January is awash in pale green light but I can still see the color drain from her face all the same. The insect lands again, stinging the back of my neck harder this time. I ignore it. “What do you think you owe me, for making me believe you were dead, January Whitehall? That Parker had gone and raped and murdered another woman who was supposed to be under my protection?”
“I-I don’t know.”
Her voice is shaking, vibrating with panic and her eyes are already welling with tears. I want to take pleasure in it but the high isn’t coming. I ball my hands into fists. “You don’t fucking know, isn’t that convenient? Then again when have you ever known anything, you dopey little brat?”
She absorbs the insult without so much as a shudder and that’s when I see it. The softness in her stupid emerald, green eyes. The sympathetic pout in her plushy pink lips. She’s thinking about what I told her last night. About Alessia. The little bitch is feeling sorry for me.
I swim up to where she’s sitting and grip her ankles like I’m going to pull her into the pool. Her skin is hot under my palms, and I ignore the heat that zaps from her to me. Her face is so pale I wouldn’t be surprised if she passed out, but she doesn’t look away. She just keeps staring at me with her huge pitiful eyes and somehow, I know exactly what she’s thinking. And I fucking hate her for it.
Then she opens her mouth.
“I’m sorry about your sister,” she says in a big rush. “I’m sorry I worried you by running away. I never meant to hurt you or any of the guys. I really like you. I mean you scare me and you’re such a jerk but I feel things for… I mean I used to.”
Her face burns scarlet and something inside me snaps. I press my fingertips into her peachy skin, hard enough to bruise. “Stop. Talking.”
But not only does she not do that she reaches down. She reaches down and brushes a hand over my cheek. “Doc, I know you’re in pain. It’s okay. Whatever you need to do to feel better, I… I can handle it. I want you to feel better.”
Jesus H fucking Christ.
Her touch is like cold fire but I don’t push her hand away. I take a step back, water sloshing around my waist, making me feel like an asshole.
“Fuck you,” I hiss, glaring right in her face. “Fuck you for making me… for trying to…”
I snap my jaw shut, furious with myself. I don’t owe the bitch any explanations and I don’t want to ‘talk this out’ or any of that bullshit. I want to hurt her. I want my fucking revenge. Especially since Morelli is trying to rip away my rightful retaliation against Parker. The thing that’s powered me since I was seventeen and he wants to renege because of January’s safety. January’s innocence.
The realization makes my anger surge and I grip her ankles tighter, tugging her forward. “I’m going to hurt you, Tits. So bad you’ll wish you were still getting gun-fucked by Adriano. So bad you’ll wish you were never born, you get that?”
She nods, a sparkly tear tracking down her cheek.
Don’t fucking agree, I scream inside my mind. Don’t you fucking take this from me too.
I pull her legs apart and stare at the pink cotton covering her virgin pussy. I want to bite into her. Tear her apart like I’m a wolf.
“I don’t have my knife on me,” I tell her. “If I did I’d fuck you with the handle again before I put my dick in you. Or maybe I’d pin you down and cut my name into your tits. Would you like that?”
She nods, tears falling down her front.
Don’t, I want to scream, stop it.
I let go of her and stand, rising in the water. “I’ll knife you, Tits. I mean it. I’ll cut you open, then I’ll lie you down and jack off all over you. Cum right where you’re bleeding.”
She nods, more tears raining down her face and I know she’s crying, not just for Alessia but for me. For my broken, fucked-up, blacked out heart. Because she’s innocent. Because she’s pure. Because somehow, even after everything that’s happened to her, she’s still so sweet it could give you diabetes.
I look into her face and feel something inside me well up. Big and clean as a snowball going downhill. I can’t hurt her. Not like this. Maybe not ever. If I could, I would already have done it.
I turn and drive my fist into the water. “Fuck!”
January gives a soft little sob that twists in me like the point of a blade.
“Fuck off!” I repeat. “Fuck you and your pretty fucking face! You can’t do this to me!”
Her crying becomes muffled, and I know she’s put her face in her hands.
I said she couldn’t do this to me.
And yet.
And yet the way she looked at me when I first surfaced… Watching me from the other side of the pool, that soft smile on her perfect puffy lips… I could have died and I’d have been happy to go. I grip my hair in my fists and pull it hard enough to hurt.
I hate it. Feelings. Memories. Hopes and fears. I don’t know how to care for anyone let alone a soft, weak, little girl. It’s wrong that January lives outside my body. Anything could happen to her there. She could get killed by Parker, the Baskerville twins could snatch her, her stepmom could pressure her back home and sell her to someone else…
As I drove with Basher to collect January from Dreams I had one thought in my mind—chain her to my workbench and make her regret ever even imagining she could get away from me. But now she’s here practically begging me to hurt her and I can’t. What I want is to surge out of the water and pull her into my arms. Take care of her or something equally stupid.
I turn and look at the girl who’s torn me apart. January’s not crying. She doesn’t have her face in her hands anymore. Instead, she’s looking at me with that infinitesimal softness. That sweet fucking sympathy that hurts worse than any hatred. I hold her gaze for a second and my chest cramps up.
“You’ve broken me,” I mumble, letting go of my hair. “You’ve broken me. You’ve fucking broken my head.”
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry for everything. I really like you, Domenico.”
She said my fucking name again. A tiny smile is playing on her lips. To my fucking horror I feel an answering one spread across my face.
It was an excuse. Hurting her. Locking her up. Punishing her. Just a rationalization to do what I wanted, which was to chain her up in my workshop, so nothing could ever get to her.
But you’re not supposed to lock girls in cages. Not when you like them.
My arms twitch, and I want to punch something hard enough to break my own bones. Instead, I take a step back into the depths of the pool.
“I’m going to swim,” I tell her. “Don’t you fucking go anywhere. This isn’t over.”
She should look scared. Cry again. At least look pissed. Instead, she smiles at me as though she knows every single thought I’ve ever had. “Okay, Domenico.”
I shake my head, amazed and pissed at about a million other things. “You’re a fucking brat.”
Her smile fades. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wish you were more of one. That way I might be able to fucking hurt you.”
Before I can see her reaction, I plunge back into the water.
I thought I was pretty burned out from swimming before, but I tear through the pool like it’s silk, ripping the water to shreds. Soon my breathing is ragged and my lungs ache but I keep going, pushing harder and faster. Purging myself of my rage. I’m not a man who believes lies when the truth is staring me in the face.
And the truth is I don’t want to hurt January Whitehall. I can’t fucking hurt January Whitehall. She’s too beautiful. She’s too mine. I might want to slap her ass and make her cry around my cock, but actually cause her pain? Inflict revenge on her for the horror she put me through? I don’t have that in me. I gave it my best shot and I failed. Now I need to rearrange the world. Figure out how to live in a place where an eighteen-year-old Manhattan princess has so much fucking power over me.
When the last of my energy runs down and my limbs feel like concrete, I surface again. January is right where she was, staring patiently into the water.
“Hi,” she says shyly and gives me a little wave.
Again, I feel the strange churning contradiction. I want to hurt her for being able to hurt me. I want to wrap her up in clouds and keep her safe forever. I do neither. Instead I watch as she slides her long smooth legs back into the water.
My cock gives a hard throb at the thought of them wrapped around my hips. That might be a good compromise. If I can’t chain her up and I have no idea what I’m doing, then I want to finish what we started on the motel couch. It was hell watching her sleep last night, all her soft sighs as she rolled around. My cock has been hard all day thinking about it. And I’ve been nothing but a prick to her, but she still said she liked me. So the odds of me getting some compensatory action are good.
I rise out of the water and let her get a look at my chest. “You lonely or something, Tits?”
Her hand rises to her cleavage. She acts like she hates the name but whenever I call her that, she gets a blush down her cheeks and right into those flawless tits.
“I’m not lonely,” she says. “I just don’t know what I’m doing. It feels like a hundred things have happened and I don’t have brain space to put them anywhere.”
So, she came and found me and watched me swim. Another good sign she wants my dick. I’m about to point that out when her big green eyes fill with tears. I get that duct-tape feeling in my chest again. “Tits…”
“Sorry,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I know I don’t have anything to cry about. I’ve been rescued and your sister is still gone and poor Emilia is with him.”
For a second I have no idea who Emilia is, then I remember the redhead getting her tit squeezed in Parker’s video. “Yeah. Her.”
I have no idea what to say about Emilia. Velvet House has been watching Parker for seventeen years and there’s been a long line of corpse girlfriends. With the pressure we’re putting on him, the redhead’ll be lucky if she sees Christmas. Another woman dead because of Parker. Which means, because of me.
I stare into the rippling green water. Three years ago, when Morelli finally okayed us to kill Parker, I pushed for torturing him first. Adriano could have shot him between the eyes from a mile away, but I wanted bloody, ugly revenge. I wanted to run his business off the rails, to clip off his fingers with bolt cutters, to fuck his fiancée right in front of him. If I’d kept my head, he’d be gone. Alessia avenged. Emilia free. January Whitehall safe.
And now I’m supposed to sign a contract and let him keep fucking up other people’s lives the way he fucked up mine?
“Doc? Are you okay?”
She looks at me with more concern than I’ve ever shown anyone. Maybe that’s why she fucks with my head. She’s nice. She might be the first actually nice person to exist.
“I’m fine. Sorry about your Zia. She shouldn’t have gone like that.”
More tears roll down her cheeks. “No, but at least she was unconscious. She always said that’s how she wanted to die.”
“She said that?”
January smiles. “All the time.”
“Well, she was an old Italian broad.”
“She was.” January dips a gentle hand in the water as though to touch me. “I’m really sorry Mr. Parker killed Alessia, Nico.”
Everything inside me goes still. “What did you call me?”
Her shoulders creep to her ears. “I don’t know. I feel weird saying Doc sometimes. And if you don’t want to be called Domenico, I could maybe call you Nico? It’s shorter and it’s nice.”
My insides feel like I’ve eaten a bunch of butterflies. God fucking dammit what’s wrong with me? I liked it better when I wanted to lock her up and breed her. “You can call me whatever you like, Tits. Name-calling’s a two-way street.”
She makes a ‘whatever’ face and even that makes my chest go all fluttery. I shove the feeling aside. “Thanks for what you said about Alessia… or whatever, but you’re not allowed to feel sorry for me.”
She blinks back more tears. “But I am sorry, Nico.”
“Huh.”
I tread water a couple of feet from her and think about what’s coming next. Once Morelli’s done with Parker, he’s going to move onto the topic of who January belongs to. I know him well enough to guess how his mind will work. He won’t want us to keep fighting over her. Some kind of share-January compromise is on the horizon, which means I won’t be able to have her to myself. I’m not opposed to keeping her for all four of us, but I’ll be damned if that sleazy fuck Morelli thinks he’s getting a kid out of the first woman who ever made me feel this way. Or if Basher thinks he can marry her. I’ll cut off his ring finger first.
“Do you think Eli will let me stay here?”
I glance up at January. “You mean… live at Velvet House?”
“Yeah.”
I laugh. “You try to leave and find out what happens. There’s no other life for you now. You’re ours.”
Color floods her face. She’s practically glowing. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means you’re ours.”
She looks down at her hands, her cheeks and forehead brick red.
“Do you like that?”
She makes a gesture that could be a nod or just an embarrassed little twitch. That’s better than an outright no. Judging by her body language, she wants to say yes, even if she can’t admit it. I smile up at the green tiled ceiling. She ran away, but she would have missed us. And maybe she wouldn’t have come back to us by choice, but she would have regretted it for the rest of her life. She is ours and when all the Parker bullshit is over, we can figure out some way to share her sexy little body. I just want her to be mine first. I want her virgin cunt. Which means it’s high time to salt the earth, as far as my competition is concerned.
I know she’s got a crush on Bobby, and she’s all googly-eyed for Morelli, and Adriano took her to see her Zia, but she almost fucked me on that scratchy motel couch and she’s right here with me now. I swim closer. “Remember before you ran away, you were gonna be our little servant girl? Suck us off and serve us dinner?”
She turns her face away. “That’s not true.”
“It’s pretty true. But that was back when you couldn’t be seen in public because we kidnapped you. But now your name is gonna be cleared—”
“How will my name be cleared?”
I ignore her. “Things have changed. Which means you need to decide who’s gonna be filling out your dance card around here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, believe it or not, Tits, the four of us generally don’t make a rule of sharing pussy the way we’ve been quadrupling up on yours.”
It’s a lie, I’ve been looking forward to running a train on January Whitehall since the day she showed up at Velvet House, but when she’s nervous she pays more attention.
January’s eyes go wide. “I don’t… I couldn’t…”
“Sure,” I say, cutting off her puritanical sputtering. “Who do you think’s the better cherry picker? Me or Bobby—”
“What!?”
“—you need to choose a removalist for those V plates, Tits. Your options are me, Bobby the love bug, Richie Rich, or Freddy Krueger. That’s it.”
She stares at me like I’m talking Greek.
“Lemme give you a hand. If you choose Bobby, he’s gonna drag you off to Ohio and keep you barefoot in his homestead. And there’ll probably be pigs nearby.”
January nibbles her lower lip. Bad sign. She’s into the whole farm boy fantasy.
“Here’s the thing about Bobby,” I say. “He’s terrible at fucking. Just ask his ex-wife.”
January’s face falls. “Bobby’s been married?”
No.
“Yup. Actually, he still might be. I don’t think the papers’ve come through. Something about FedEx prices…”
January looks like someone’s punched her in the stomach. I kick back in the water so she can see my nice, never-been-married body. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Tits.”
“Why did he and his wife break up?”
“I dunno. She did mention him not being able to fuck her because he couldn’t stop thinking about baseball scores…”
“Oh my gosh!”
“Yeah,” I say sympathetically. “And Morelli’s no better. I mean, his dick works allegedly, but he’s cheated on every girlfriend he’s ever had. Six months in and he starts telling them he’s at work when he’s off dicking some fashion week model. He wouldn’t be my choice for a first time, probably riddled with venereal disease.”
January looks at her folded hands. She had no trouble believing that one. Morelli’s a dumb fuck for approaching her with all that mistress bullshit. Practically salted the earth for himself.
“Then there’s Adriano…”
Her head jerks up. “Are you guys going to punish him for taking me to the hospital?”
I could joke about tying him to a chair and spanking him but she doesn’t seem to be in a joking mood. “Not really. We’ll probably fine him and give him shitty jobs for the next year.”
“That’s all?”
“What were you expecting? That we’d cut off his toes?”
“No, I just… everyone seemed so mad at him.”
I float on my back, splashing lazily. “Adriano’s family and family gets one decent fuck-up per decade.”
She smiles. “That’s kinda nice. In a mean way.”
I mentally pull the wings off the butterflies in my stomach. “You wanna know something mean about Adriano, January Joy? He’s obsessed with your pretty pink pussy.”
The girl almost slides into the pool. “Nico! Don’t talk like that!”
More puritanical bullshit, but I don’t get a ‘I’m gonna put a chair behind the door so Adriano can’t come in and fuck me tonight’ vibe from her. She’s into him. Fucking Adriano. He’s put in a lot of groundwork, watching her ballet classes, and taking her to see her Zia. She might think he’s the only one who really understands her, which is fucking delusional. Adriano’s a mute, old-school nutcase who’d amputate anyone who tried to buy her a Coke, but January doesn’t know that. I’m gonna have to work to put this dark horse down.
“You like Adriano, don’t you, Tits?”
Her hand shoots to her hair. “No! He’s super scary.”
“Yeah, but you like that. The ‘creepy pervert panting after the virgin’ thing.”
“If you’re going to be gross, I’ll get up and leave.”
“Okay, I’ll play nice. But you should know Adriano’s got a nasty little habit.”
“Didn’t you used to sell pills?”
I laugh. “I’m not talking about drugs. I mean Rossi’s choked five girls to death in as many years. More, if you include vacations.”
“He has not!”
“He didn’t mean to. It’s a sex thing. He gets carried away and pfft.”
January clasps her throat. “You’re lying.”
“Has Adriano ever choked you, Tits?”
She stares into the pool, perhaps recalling the many times Adriano Rossi has put his hands around her neck.
The best lies have truth in them. Adriano does have a thing for choking and the fact he hasn’t killed a girl, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t. Let’s see the scarfaced fuck mope his way into taking January’s virginity when she’s terrified he’ll crush her windpipe when he nuts.
“So, has he choked you?” I press.
“I… Yes. A little bit, I guess.”
“Yeah, you wanna watch out for that. Breath-play’ll kill ya.”
I swim away and complete a few laps, giving my bombshells time to sink in. When I get back to January, her cute face is all suspicious. “You’re making out like you’re the only choice for my first time, aren’t you?”
I spread my arms wide. “What can I say? We look good together.”
“I don’t want to be with someone for the first time just because it looks good.”
“I know, Tits. That’s what I like about you. You’ve got a big heart to go along with that big rack.”
Her mouth falls open. “You’re such a jerk!”
“Yeah.”
She gives me an adorably skeptical look. “Have you ever even had a girlfriend?”
I go to say ‘sure’ but the lie won’t come. Something about the shrewd look on her face stops me in my tracks. “Uh, not really. No.”
Her smile is one I’ve never seen before. Sly, almost wicked. “You’ve never been in a relationship?”
“Neither have you.”
“I was engaged.” Her smile grows wider. “So, you have no boyfriend experience?”
“Nope,” I say, swimming up to her. “You can mold me into whatever you like.”
She glares down at me, her tits straining against her dress. If she wants to wait to fuck me, I guess I’ll live, but I’m gonna be putting my dick between those things every night ‘till I’m in her pussy. I push my wet hair out of my eyes. “In all seriousness, Tesorina. You should throw that ass back for me.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
“Thanks,” I tap her thigh. “Want me to eat you out by the side of the pool?”
Her legs snap together like magnets.
I laugh. “It’s cute how much of a prude you are.”
“I am not a prude.”
“True. When I railed you with my knife handle, you came so hard, you fucked up the springs.”
She covers her face with her hands. “I hate you.”
The way she says it plucks at me like a guitar string. “Yeah, but you love me too.”
I expect her to deny it. After all, an hour ago I was terrifying the bitch, but she doesn’t.
The pool door swings open. It’s Bobby, still in his country boy shirt and slacks. We lock eyes and my smile dies. The meeting with Bianchi must be over, the preliminary contract arranged. Funny how easy it is to forget the outside world when I’m with January.
“What?” I demand.
Bobby ignores me and walks toward January. “How are you?”
Her smile is reserved. “Good, thanks.”
I smirk. My lie about him being married is already putting out roots. Maybe I can convince her he’s only into teenagers next. That’s the kind of thing you can’t deny without looking like even more of a pedo. Then again, I don’t want to put that idea in her head. She might think I only want her because she’s barely legal when she could be forty-five and I’d still be gunning for her.
“How did your meeting go?” January asks.
Bobby sits cross-legged beside her. “Okay. Eli’s coming to talk to you both about it.”
My head throbs like a bruise. I dive, letting the water rush the thoughts out of my brain. And there, underwater an idea comes. It’s fully formed down to the final details. A way to have everything I want. Parker dead. January safe. Alessia avenged. It’ll mean bending some rules and breaking my brothers’ trust but as I just told January, family gets one decent fuck-up per decade.
I keep swimming until I sense Morelli’s arrival. I surface and we eye each other, me in the water and Morelli by the door in his three-piece suit.
Reckless asshole, his eyes say.
Entitled prick, I think.
Nothing’s changed. We’ve been looking at each other this way since we were kids. Morelli’s the white king, I’m the black. We’re part of the same chess set but too similar and too different to co-exist comfortably.
“Negotiation around the contract has begun,” Eli says. “We have two weeks.”
“Two weeks to do what?” January asks.
She looks nervous, like she’s expecting Morelli to tell her to shut up. But he just smiles at her. “Your ex-fiancé has agreed to discuss a peaceful resolution to our conflict. Until we finalize the details, there’s a truce. He will not contact you and we will not confront him.”
January half-collapses onto Bobby’s shoulder. “Does that mean I might not have to marry him?”
“You won’t have to marry him,” Eli says. “Once the contract is signed, he’ll never come near you again.”
From Morelli’s expression it’s far from that simple, but he won’t tell January that. But it doesn’t matter. This contract’s not going to happen because during this truce, I am going to fly to Vegas, invade the Palm Casino and murder Parker.
“What’s a contract?” January asks. “How does it work?”
Morelli paces the edge of the pool, his shoes clicking on the tiles. “I don’t know that it’s appropriate for you to hear this, bella.”
“Please?”
He sighs. “I will say this once. Afterward I want no further discussions. An innocent girl should not be occupied with such things.”
“Yes, Mr. Morelli,” January says, her eyes wide as marbles.
I manage not to mime throwing up.
Eli resumes his pacing. “In the world Velvet House and your ex-fiancé occupy, there are rules—limitations. A man, or an organization, can’t go around doing whatever they want or they’ll be held accountable by larger, more powerful forces. Do you understand?”
“There’s like… a mafia police?”
I laugh at the look on Morelli’s face. He hates talking about la famiglia.
“Something like that, Tits,” I say. “Morelli’s gone to the head of a big New York family. He’ll broker an agreement between us and Parker and once it’s in place, it can’t be reneged.”
January goes still as she absorbs what we’ve told her. I like that about her, the way she quietly processes things.
“If Mr. Parker agrees to let me go under this contract, what does he get?”
Morelli’s brows pull together. “We won’t kill him, bella. Now or at any point in the future.”
January presses her hands to her pretty face, and I can tell Bobby and Morelli are thinking they’ve made the right choice. And maybe they have. It’s just not the choice I’ve made.
“What happens if Mr. Parker breaks the contract?” January asks.
“He dies,” Morelli says flatly.
“And we’d get his assets,” Bobby adds. “His buildings, his businesses. His money.”
“All of it?”
I look into the wavering green water. If I had time, I could bait Parker into kicking January or something so we could lay our hands on his money and have the Bianchis waste him. But I’m not going to fuck with a contract. I’ve got two week’s ceasefire to kill Parker while everyone hammers out the details. I’ll hit up the girls at Dreams and find a dancer with a friend at the Palm Casino. Then I’ll dig up my Michael Shore passport and take a commercial flight to Vegas. I’ll drink in the same bars as Parker until he goes to take a piss somewhere and I’ll garrotte him. Easy as pie.
“So, once the contract is in place, all is resolved,” Morelli says. “Soon Parker will be gone from your life forever.”
“Here’s hoping,” I say.
January lets out a laugh. “I can’t believe this is real.”
Bobby lays his hand on top of hers. “You’ll be free. You can go anywhere.”
She smiles, but subtly slides her hand away. “Mr. Pa—you know, still has my passport.”
Morelli pulls out his phone. “I’ll put that on the list of things he’ll be returning when the contract’s signed.”
“That’s amazing. God, I have no idea what I’ll do when I’m free. See my family, I guess?”
She looks around at us as though asking permission.
“You can,” Bobby says. “Your sister, your brothers. Your, uh, stepmom, I guess?”
January’s smile dims. “My stepmom gave him my passport.”
Bobby scowls and even Morelli breaks his tall, dark and serious routine to bare his teeth. I watch hurt ripple across January’s face like wind on a lake and I want to commit homicide. If it was just the two of us alone, I’d offer to kill her stepmother, and looking at Morelli, I know he feels the same way. Both of us know something about clingy, abusive mothers, and Corinne Whitehall is going to be a millstone around January’s neck for as long as she’s alive.
“Bella,” Morelli says. “You’re eighteen. Your stepmother can try to manipulate you, but she’s no longer your legal guardian. Which means you don’t have to see her.”
January brushes a tear from her cheek. “But since my marriage didn’t happen, the money will have stopped coming.”
“Cry me a fucking river,” I say. “Maybe your stepmother can sell one of her ten-thousand-dollar dresses.”
Bobby shoots me a dirty look. “Your stepmom will be fine, JJ. She can always remarry.”
“She always said she wouldn’t. That once was enough.”
“That’s fucking charming, considering what she did to you,” I say.
January looks like I slapped her. Bobby puts an arm around her. “Enough, Doc.”
I splash water at him.
January gives a gulping sob. “Eli, can I please ask you a favor?”
My stomach goes cold. She wants to move back home, go to another country, to get Archie Baskerville’s number—
“Can I live here for a little while? Just while I figure out what to do?”
All three of us laugh, our voices bouncing off the water and the green tiles.
“What?” January asks, confused.
“Bella, you are living here,” Morelli says. “It’s not a question.”
“Oh, thank you.” She frowns. “But I can go, right? I’m not…?”
“We’re no longer holding you prisoner,” Morelli says lightly. “Soon, we’ll sign the contract and get your passport back and you’ll be able to properly consider your future.”
“I… what do you mean?”
“Well,” Morelli says slowly. “Whether you’d like to go to school or work or… anything else.”
January stares into the water, seemingly lost in the possibilities. Morelli toes off his oxfords and rolls up his suit pants. I watch as he sits on January’s right dangling his feet in the water. Bobby is still on her left, his thigh pressed against her. A tension fills the grotto, but a nice tension. I kick back and watch the three of them. My friends, my rivals, and this infuriating perfect girl. I picture Adriano, upstairs cracked out on pain medication. We’re together again. Under one roof if not physically close. The thought unknots something tight between my ribs. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, sharing a girl. God knows we’re together all the time, devil’s threesomes are hot and no matter what happens we’re never going to find another January Joy Whitehall.
Morelli turns to her and gives her one of his fuck-me smiles. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you, bella, but there’s another aspect of your future you need to consider.”
“What do you mean?”
“The four of us are interested in you, and you’re obviously interested in us.”
January ducks her head. “I… I don’t know.”
“You are,” Morelli says. “And since you’re no longer our captive, you need to understand your position in this household has changed.”
She stares wordlessly at him.
“We’re willing to be patient with you,” Morelli explains. “But you need to get used to the idea that you belong to all of us.”
“All of you? But I thought you wanted me to choose?”
Eli and Bobby exchange glances. Bobby’s hand slides onto January’s leg. “You don’t need to stress out about this right now, baby. You’re tired and you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
“But…” January looks from him to me. “You can’t want to share me all the time, I mean, what would that even look like?”
Bobby, Morelli and I hold eye contact for a moment. It’s not going to be easy, winning January over. But if anyone can do it, I can. And these other assholes too, I guess.
“It would look like you being the obedient little girl you are,” Morelli says. “Beyond that, we would make our plans as we go along.”
“But what about you wanting a wife?” January asks Morelli. “What about having kids and me not being good enough and—”
Morelli takes her hand. “I was a fool, bella. I dearly regret ever saying—”
I whistle. “Hey. Monologue on your own time. This is the group audition.”
Morelli shoots me a dirty look but drops January’s hand. “Bella, I’ll take you to dinner tonight and we’ll discuss this further.”
He looks at me, daring me to contradict him, but I don’t. I’m glad he’s taking January out first. She’s so tired and traumatized all she’ll do is cry into her linguini.
“Okay,” January says shyly. “Will it be like… a date?”
“Of sorts.” Morelli’s phone rings. He pulls it out and makes a face. “I need to go.” He kisses January’s cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, Miss Whitehall. Dress beautifully.”
January, Bobby and I watch as he pulls his legs from the pool, grabs his shoes and answers the call. “Good morning, Patricio, yes, I read your amendments, and I think…”
He walks away, leaving the pool door ajar.
“There he goes,” I tell January. “First rule of being our girl, Tits? Prepare to be ditched for business calls on an extremely regular basis.”
January frowns. “But you can’t really… I mean we’re not actually all going to date are we?”
“Sure,” I say. “We’ll date you.”
She looks even more shocked. “You want to take me on a date?”
No. I wanted her crying in chains and Parker’s brains all over the Vegas floor show. But if I’ve learned anything against my will it’s that you have to compromise in this life.
“I want your virginity. If I have to buy you a few ice cream cones and let my friends watch, that’s a price I can pay.”
Bobby makes a face like he’s going to yak and I mentally give him the finger.
“I don’t think…” January begins.
“What, baby?” Bobby says in his simpiest tone. “Whatever you want to tell me you can.”
“Well, um… I think that while we’re dating… um, you guys know how I’m still a virgin?”
I grin. “We sure do.”
“Okay, then I think that I shouldn’t sleep with any of you, while we’re getting to know each other. Or whatever this is.”
Bobby’s face falls.
“Okay, but can we fuck you when we’re all together?” I ask. “Like a time-out?”
January looks at Bobby as though expecting him to tell me off. He raises his eyebrows. “Can we?”
“No!”
“Goddammit.” I swipe the water.
“No sex,” January says firmly, pulling her legs from the pool. “Not for anyone.”
“Where are you going,” I ask. “This was just getting interesting.”
“Maybe for you it was. I’m going to get something to eat.”
I smirk. “I could eat.”
She frowns. “You said you wouldn’t hit on me!”
“No, I fucking didn’t.”
She gives me a small smile and leaves. I watch her go, her ass swaying in her tight dress. My anger at her re-abduction is still rippling inside me, a rage and resentment I couldn’t swim off if I stayed in the pool all year but there’s something else too. The knowledge that she’s safe, that she’s mine, that she’s all of ours.
It gives me a weightlessness that has nothing to do with water.