January Whitehall
The helicopter ride is swift. In thirty minutes, we’re hovering over the heart of Manhattan. I sit between Doc and Bobby, both of them squeezing my thighs and kissing my shoulders and hands. Across from us, Adriano is stock-still, his jaw set, and Eli is typing away at his laptop. Bobby’s right about him being a workaholic. It seems like if he’s not sleeping with me, he’s doing something work related.
As we circle over the city, my nerves spike.
“How’s Margot?” I ask.
“Fine,” Bobby says. “Gretzky just texted me. She’s watching TV.”
I nod trying to process how bizarre it is that my sister has met the men who held me at Velvet House. Eli decided that in the unlikely event the contract signing goes badly, Margot might be targeted. Harvey and Mr. Gretzky brought her a letter from me at her college, and she agreed to be taken to a safehouse for the night. I wanted to talk to her, but the boys warned me it wasn’t wise while Mr. Parker could still be trying to abduct me.
“You’ll speak to her afterward,” Eli promised. “If all goes well.”
I felt reassured at the time, but all ‘going well’ is beginning to feel a lot less likely.
The helicopter lands on a stretch of dark grass. A dozen armed guards are waiting for us. A hard knot forms in my stomach. Eli eyes me closely. “Time for you to be brave, bella. You are our glamorous toy, nothing more.”
He means—play your part. No tears. No fear. As Doc and Bobby have said a dozen times, Mr. Parker will be looking to upset me, if only for a last shot at revenge. But if I learned anything living with my stepmother, it was to play the role required of me. I push back my shoulders and try for a remote smile, like an off-duty model. I’m pretty and bored and no one can hurt me.
“Perfect.” Eli leans forward and kisses my cheek. “This will all be over soon.”
I think of Margot and pray he’s right.
The armed guards lead the five of us inside the building. It’s huge, like a gothic museum with glossy black floors and well-lit statues everywhere. The boys act as if they’ve done this a hundred times before, shrugging off their jackets and chatting to one another. But their eyes are cold and they walk in front and behind me. Four corners protecting me at the center.
We’re steered to a black marble reception where a man in sunglasses tells us to surrender our weapons. I expect Adriano to hand over his gun, but he also unpacks two knives, a set of handcuffs, and a taser. The other three are all carrying guns and knives, too.
I watch the receptionist pack them away under the desk and realize the boys are probably trying to make a point. ‘We’re super armed and dangerous.’ I wish they’d included me but, then again, there’s no way I’d look scary with a gun.
Once the gun butler has all the weapons, he comes around the desk and runs a black wand over each of us. It can’t be a metal detector because the chains on my dress don’t set it off. Maybe he’s scanning our bones. He eyes my breasts as he scans me and though it makes my skin crawl, I give him my best uninterested look, as though I couldn’t care less he finds me hot, because there’s no chance a lowly gun butler could be with someone like me.
“Good work, Pryntsesa,” Adriano mutters as we’re led to an elevator.
The guards stay behind as we pile in. It’s entirely black and so shiny, it’s like we’re in space. Eli presses for floor ninety, the highest floor. The doors close and I feel trapped. I touch the base of my ponytail where my St. Christopher is hidden.
Help me, Zia. Help all of us.
The space capsule opens on a conference room. The enormous glass table looks big enough for fifty people, yet sitting right in the middle is a single old man. His suit is light gray, and his thick white hair is combed neatly over his head. He should look harmless, even friendly, but as his pale eyes meet mine, a bolt of fear shoots through me. His eyes trail my body and then glance away and I understand he’s like a shark circling in a nature documentary. He won’t hurt me because he isn’t hungry and I’m just an unimportant little fish, but he isn’t someone I should make a mistake in front of. Ever.
The old man puts his phone aside and smiles at Eli. “Elliot! You’re here first.”
“Of course I am,” Eli says drily. “It’s good to see you Mr. Bianchi.”
He walks around the table and kisses the old man on both cheeks.
“You remember my brothers, Domenico Valente, Roberto Bassilotta, and Adriano Rossi?”
The old man gives each of them a friendly nod, but his clear blue eyes don’t crinkle. They stay open and cold as ice.
Eli gestures to me. “This, Mr. Bianchi, is January Whitehall.”
Mr. Bianchi gives my body another perfunctory sweep then shoots Eli a smile. “Suddenly this contract makes far more sense.”
My cheeks heat, but I stand tall. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bianchi.”
“Elliot tells me you sing.”
“I… Yes,” I say. “I love singing.”
“Perhaps if everything goes as planned, you’ll sing at my wedding to my darling Yelizaveta next summer?”
My breath catches in my throat. This old guy is getting married? And he wants me to perform there? Out of the corner of my eye, Bobby gives me a tiny nod.
“Of course,” I say with all the enthusiasm I can push into my voice. “I’d love to.”
“Excellent. Take a seat. All of you.”
Eli sits at the furthest end of the table. Bobby and Adriano take his left. I sit on his right with Doc beside me. As I settle into my seat, I see three men in black suits, blending into the dark windows behind them. Aside from the one wearing wire-rimmed glasses, they look identical. I try not to stare.
A waiter places a glass of water in front of each of us. Doc asks for beer and one is promptly brought to him. I wish I could ask for orange juice, but I don’t want to look like a child. Eli and Mr. Bianchi enter a deep conversation. It’s all gibberish to me except for random numbers and place names: ‘three-sixty-five,’ ‘Tacoma,’ ‘Upper East Side.’
The minutes tick by and I wish I could take out my phone and play games, scroll social media, read the weather app, anything. The boys shift around me, irritated. This must be part of Mr. Parker’s plan. If he can’t have me, he’ll be as annoying as possible for as long as possible.
When Doc finishes his beer and the conversation between Eli and the old man is getting strained, the elevator dings. Doc presses his knee into my right leg and Eli does the same on the other side. I turn my face into a mask. I’m a pretty, vacant doll and I belong to the men around me. That’s all that matters.
Mr. Parker exits the elevator first. He’s dressed in a brown suit and boots that make him look like he’s about to go hunting. He’s brought seven men with him. I only recognize one of them, a big redhead, from the hospital. At least the Baskerville twins aren’t here. I don’t think my acting skills are that good.
“Good evening,” Mr. Parker tells the room in a loud TV presenter voice.
“Good evening,” Mr. Bianchi says quietly.
I can feel the hatred coming off the four men around me like steam hissing from a boiling pot. Doc’s shoulders have risen, and Adriano’s face is as hard as the night he pushed a gun into my mouth. Bobby is looking at his phone, but his jaw is tight enough to burst. Only Eli sits straight-backed and calm, his glittering eyes the only physical manifestation of his rage. “Good evening, Zachery.”
“Elliot.” Mr. Parker wanders closer to our side of the table. “Dom. Basher. Rossi.”
As he looks at each of my men, it’s like he makes them younger. More like teenagers than the grown criminals I’ve come to know.
Mr. Parker gives Adriano a wide-lipped smirk. “How’s the side? Any broken ribs?”
Adriano says nothing.
Mr. Parker’s gaze falls on me. As he takes in my tight, slutty dress, his loathing is bright as a star in the sky. I remember the way he looked at me in his limo, telling me we’d be married by morning. I fight back a shudder. He doesn’t leave to take his seat, just keeps staring. To distract myself, I examine his shirt. It’s purple silk and you can see his nipples through it. Mr. Parker always wears silk shirts, and you can always see his nipples through them. Maybe it’s on purpose. Maybe it’s a sex thing. I bite back a snort of laughter and then, somehow, it’s easy to meet Mr. Parker’s eyes. He’s just a guy with a nipple shirt.
“Jan-u-ar-y White-hall,” he says, rolling each syllable around his pink mouth. “We meet again.”
Doc’s leg presses harder into mine, like he’s scared I’m going to run away. I toss my ponytail over my shoulder. “Hi, Zach.”
His mouth falls open, and I swear he almost lunges for me.
“Parker,” Mr. Bianchi says sharply. “Remember why you’re here.”
He rounds on the old man. “Did you hear… she just called me…?”
All at once, the tension leaves our side of the table. Doc barks out a laugh and Eli leans back in his chair.
“I don’t think it matters if Miss Whitehall refers to you by your first name, Parker,” Mr. Bianchi says. “Sit and we can begin the meeting.”
There’s a definite bite in his voice and I feel a little proud that the scary old man likes us more than Mr. Parker.
My ex-fiancé settles at the other end of the table and his seven men fan out around him. A few have briefcases which they put on the table, and take out thick pages of documents. I think of all the guns and knives we surrendered downstairs. Why didn’t we come prepared with our own lawyers and paperwork, too? Maybe Doc and Adriano said that strategy was for nerds…
Mr. Bianchi fixes a pair of gold glasses to the end of his nose. “Everyone’s here. It’s time to proceed.”
The room chills by several degrees. We all sit up straighter.
“I’ve been assigned to end the conflict between your organizations in an amicable, and more importantly final, way,” Mr. Bianchi says. He looks around the table and I nod, the way I used to in school, so teachers knew I was listening.
Mr. Bianchi gestures to the invisible guys at the window and one man rushes forward with a leather folder. Mr. Bianchi opens it with his spotted hands. “This is the contract that’s been drawn up. Both Velvet House and Parker Enterprise Holdings have had several days to look over it and make adjustments, so you should all be familiar with the contents. However, I’ll briefly summarize the agreement.”
Eli’s thigh contracts against mine. He’s refused to answer any of my questions about the contract. I’m sure he didn’t want me to hear this. My heart gives another painful squeeze.
Mr. Bianchi points to Mr. Parker. “In signing this contract, Zachery Parker renounces any romantic, financial, sexual, or familial claim to January Joy Whitehall. He may not threaten or harm her. If asked to comment on their previous relationship, he will say he ended their engagement so Miss Whitehall could attend college…”
I feel Mr. Parker looking at me and I try to think about fractions. Fractions are the most boring thing in the world. Fractions will save me.
“…should Mr. Parker or anyone who works for his organization be found in violation of this contract, by harming Miss Whitehall or contacting her or her family, their lives will be forfeited.”
Mr. Bianchi pauses so we know he means ‘get murdered.’
“Afterward, the entirety of Parker Enterprise Holdings’ assets will be divided between my association, Capital Nine, and Velvet House.”
Mr. Parker tilts his chin. “Understood.”
“In addition, Mr. Parker surrenders any and all claims to the patent for the drug known as ‘Orchard,’ and swears he is no longer in possession of any outstanding product.”
“I swear,” Mr. Parker says, pressing a hand to his chest.
I think of his tree safe and the drugs he threatened to give me and Emilia in Vegas and I know with my whole heart he’s lying. He still has old Orchard. He’d never give it up. I open my mouth to say so and Eli’s hand clamps over my thigh. I stay silent.
Mr. Bianchi turns to Eli. “In exchange for the dissolution of his relationship with January Joy Whitehall and his renunciation of any claim to the drug Orchard, Zachery Parker will receive clemency for any and all misconduct toward Elliot Morelli, Roberto Bassilotta, Domenico Valente, and Adriano Rossi.”
Beside me, Doc is grinding his teeth. I touch his leg. His wiry muscles clench and I think he’s going to throw me off, but then his hand settles over mine, warm and heavy.
“Should the four of you, or anyone who works for your organization, be found in violation of this contract by harming Mr. Parker or contacting him or his associates in any way that could be deemed improper, your lives will be forfeit and Velvet House’s assets divided between my association, Capital Nine, and Parker Enterprise Holdings.”
“We understand,” Eli says.
The old man continues to look at our end of the table.
“Agreed,” Bobby says quietly.
“Fine,” growls Adriano.
All of us look at Doc.
“Got it,” he says through the smallest possible opening of his lips.
“Wonderful,” Mr. Bianchi says briskly. “Finally, in addition to personal amnesty, Zachery Parker will receive compensation for the money he gave the Whitehall family to secure a marriage with January Joy Whitehall.”
My stomach falls. Eli and the others have to pay back all the money Mr. Parker gave my stepmom? But that must be a million dollars, maybe more.
“Capital Nine has done a thorough investigation of Zachery Parker’s financial records. And we’ve concluded thirty million dollars is to be paid to Parker Enterprise Holdings.”
I gasp.
Everyone turns to look at me and I fight to return my expression to blank ambivalence. I feel like I’m falling down a long, dark hole. Thirty million dollars. Thirty million dollars… How could my stepmom have taken so much money? How could no one have told me?
A smile quirks Mr. Parker’s mouth. “You were an expensive investment, January. Not that I consider it money well spent.”
I try to divide a thousand into thirds. Try not to move a muscle.
“I’ll thank you not to speak to Miss Whitehall,” Eli says coldly.
Mr. Parker leans back in his chair. “Contract isn’t signed yet.”
Fuck you, his eyes say. Fuck you and your whore.
“Upon signing the contract,” Mr. Bianchi says, a little louder. “Velvet House and Parker Enterprise Holdings will cease contact. The payments will be brokered through Capital Nine and anyone attempting to converse outside our influence will be considered in violation of the contract. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” Eli and the boys say in unison.
“Yes,” Mr. Parker drawls.
“Then we’ll proceed with signing the contract.” The old man clicks his fingers and one of the assistants brings forward another heavy leather folder. He places it, and a fancy pen, in front of Eli.
“You only need one signature each. Final page,” the man murmurs. “It’s been marked.”
Eli opens the folder to the last page. Out of the corner of my eye I see their four names printed next to dotted lines.
Elliot Velluto Morelli
Domenico Salvatore Valente
Roberto Libero Bassilotta
Adriano Bohdan Rossi
And just below it.
Zachery Blake Parker
Eli signs quickly then passes the file to Bobby. Bobby signs just as fast before handing the document to Adriano. Doc goes last. He lets his pen hover for a few seconds before he scrawls his name. He leaves a huge inkblot on the page, but it’s done. The assistant comes forward to collect the document and I give a small sigh of relief. We’re so close. Maybe only minutes away from this being over.
The contract is placed in front of Mr. Parker. He stares at it, then shoves it aside. The atmosphere in the room goes icy.
“Is there a problem, Parker?” Mr. Bianchi demands.
“No,” Mr. Parker says. “I just want my lawyer to re-read the contract in full before I sign.”
Doc swears under his breath.
“That will take a significant amount of time,” Mr. Bianchi says testily.
Mr. Parker doesn’t shrink into his seat the way I would if Mr. Bianchi was talking to me like that. He folds his arms behind his head and smirks. “Then it’ll take a significant amount of time. I’m sorry, but anyone could have added to or altered the document and I’m not going to have that before I sign.”
“Fine,” the old man snaps. “But you’re inconveniencing all of us and insulting this entire endeavor by implying I haven’t fulfilled my brokerage duties.”
“Sorry.” Mr. Parker shoves the contract at the man on his right. “Read quickly, Martin.”
The lawyer produces a ruler and slides it across the first page of the contract. Bobby catches my eye and gives me a small smile. I try to take comfort in it. He, at least, doesn’t seem too surprised.
Mr. Bianchi continues glaring at Mr. Parker. “Velvet House requested you return Miss Whitehall’s passport. Have you brought it with you?”
“Sure have.” Mr. Parker pulls my passport from his pocket and tosses it onto the table with a loud slap. “Here you go, January.”
I fight the urge to flinch. He’s still staring at me with his angry crocodile smile. I hate that my passport was in his pants. That he touched it with his hands.
Eli shoots Mr. Parker a look of utter loathing then turns to Mr. Bianchi. “Is it possible for Miss Whitehall to leave the room?”
The old man’s smile is sympathetic. “Sorry, Elliot. You’ll all stay where you are until this is done. Would you like a drink?”
“Scotch,” Eli says quietly. “And January will have champagne.”
“She’s underage,” Mr. Parker says loudly. “So, it’s not appropriate to give the bitch alcohol, even if Morelli and his friends are sticking their dicks inside her.”
My muscles go weak. Mr. Parker was the one who wanted to marry me when I was barely eighteen! I open my mouth to say so but Doc and Eli both squeeze my thighs under the table.
“Scotch,” Eli says firmly. “And champagne for January.”
“Bold choice,” Mr. Parker calls.
Mr. Bianchi gives him a nasty look but doesn’t tell him off. He can’t, I realize. Until the contract is signed, Mr. Parker is free to say whatever he likes to me. He’s delaying the meeting specifically so he can be horrible. After all he’s done, after killing my Zia, it’s still not enough.
Our drinks arrive and I sip my champagne fast, praying it returns me to my numbness, but by the time I’m done, Mr. Parker’s lawyer is only halfway through the document.
Eli cups my jaw, turning my face toward him. “Another champagne, bella?”
His touch is so gentle, it makes me want to cry. I turn away, blinking hard. “No, thank you.”
“Very well,” Eli kisses my cheek and I feel Mr. Parker’s eyes on me. I turn to look at him and maybe it’s the champagne, but I can’t help myself. “Is something wrong?”
Mr. Parker’s lip curls. “You’ve slept with all of them now, have you?”
“Of course, I have,” I say. “I slept with them the second I got away from you.”
To my right, Doc chuckles and even Adriano smiles. Mr. Parker makes a sound like a viper about to strike.
“That’s enough, bella,” Eli says lightly. He raps on the table. “Another scotch and champagne.”
Mr. Parker stares at me as the fresh drinks are set before us. I think of Zia Teresa lying cold in her hospital bed. Her daughters sobbing at her funeral. I think of Doc’s sister. Bobby’s father. Someone who belonged to Adriano and Eli. Spite and hatred, that’s all Mr. Parker knows. My hands ball into fists. He can talk to me before the contract is signed, then I can talk to him.
“Emilia doesn’t want you,” I tell Mr. Parker. “No woman does.”
“You think anyone cares about what comes out of your mouth, cunt?”
I shrink back in my seat. I’m a fool. There’s nothing I can do to hurt Mr. Parker. I’m not a person to him. Not human. If I hit him, it would probably feel like paper brushing past.
A warm hand descends on my shoulder.
“I care about what comes out of January’s mouth,” Doc drawls. “And if I don’t, I can always shove my dick in it.”
One of Mr. Parker’s men snorts and my face burns. It’s one thing for Mr. Parker to say horrible things, but Doc? After all we’ve been through? I glance at him, and he turns down the corners of his mouth in an exaggerated frown. “Aww, she’s feeling sensitive. Come on, Tits. Where’s your sense of humor?”
He leans forward and nuzzles my ear. I try to pull away, but his hands grip my wrists, holding me fast. “Play along, January.”
For a second I’m confused, and then I understand—I don’t have the meanness to mess with Mr. Parker, but if anyone does, it’s Domenico Valente. I slide my mouth into a sensuous smile. “Sorry, Mr. Valente.”
Doc presses his nose to mine. “That’s better. Champagne always gets you wet, doesn’t it, you pretty bitch?”
Mr. Parker bares his teeth and I understand why Doc’s being so rude. Mr. Parker finds Eli treating me kindly hilarious because he doesn’t think I’m worth anything. But Doc drooling all over me is still insulting because he never got to touch me.
I giggle. “Yes, Mr. Valente.”
Doc sucks air between his teeth. “Keep calling me that and I’ll lay you out in front of everyone in this conference room.”
“The two of you can stop whenever you like,” Eli says, but lazily, like a substitute teacher who doesn’t care if you’re paying attention or not.
“Ah, Morelli, don’t act like you don’t watch.” Doc licks along my neck. “I think I should fuck her just to pass the time.”
He grabs my breasts through the tiny panel covering them. The sensation is so shocking, so sexual, I let out a squeal.
Doc massages me, squeezing me through the silk. “Mmm, these are fucking fantastic. You ever touch January’s tits, Zach?”
Mr. Parker’s men look uncomfortable, but Mr. Bianchi is just staring at his phone. Maybe he’s done dozens of negotiations like this and doesn’t care anymore.
“Of course, you didn’t,” Doc says. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. If you suck her nipples while you’re hitting it juuuust right, she squirts everywhere.”
I duck my head. I’ve only done it a few times. Squirted. The last time, Adriano was inside me and Doc was watching, and I was worried they’d be disgusted, but both of them acted like they won a billion dollars.
Mr. Parker’s eyes narrow. “So, she’s a fucking whore.”
“You’re damn right she is,” Doc says breezily. “She wants dick twenty times a day. She’s draining the life out of all of us.”
Now every man in the room except Mr. Bianchi is staring at me, many of them slack mouthed. I lift my chin, inviting them to stare. I’m January Whitehall and I’m precious to the men who want me. Doc rubs his thumbs over my nipples, making them peak through my dress. “Thirty million dollars for this perfect little fuckdoll. She’s worth every penny, isn’t she, Morelli?”
Eli drains his scotch. “I’d have paid double.”
Mr. Bianchi finally looks up from his phone. “Don’t say that before the contract’s signed, Elliot.”
Eli gives a dry laugh.
“It wouldn’t matter if it was double,” Doc says, his indigo eyes on mine. “With what we pull in, we were always gonna pay for her. Wrap her up in lace and jewels and keep her as a plaything. Any straight man who looks at her’ll understand. She’s a fucking treasure.” He looks across at Parker. “And that’s what everyone’ll think, isn’t it? Not that Parker gave up January Whitehall so she could fail out of Columbia University. That better men stole her and kept her for themselves.”
I know Doc took it too far the instant the words leave his mouth.
‘Porca misera,’ groans Eli as Mr. Parker jumps to his feet. “Say that again!”
Mr. Bianchi looks up from his phone. “Parker, sit. Mr. Valente, I must object.”
Doc rolls his eyes. “Fine.”
Mr. Bianchi returns to his phone. Mr. Parker lowers himself back into his seat as big red spots appear on his cheeks. “Always running your cheap mouth, aren’t you, Dom?”
“Sorry,” Doc says, tugging my nipple. “January’s body makes me forget things.”
I arch into his touch, closing my eyes as though it’s bringing me to ecstasy. Truthfully, it is. I don’t know what kind of woman the boys have unlocked in me, but I’m soaking my black thong. All these men looking at me as Doc expertly manipulates my body…
Doc gathers a fistful of the chains connected to my silver collar and pulls my face closer to his. “Honey, tell all these nice men you love getting railed by all four of us.”
“I love sleeping with you,” I say huskily. “It’s the most fun I’ve ever had.”
Doc kisses me hard. It reminds me of our first kiss, him in a priest robe, me in my wedding dress. He licks inside my mouth, and I can’t help but moan.
When we pull apart, Mr. Parker’s face is brick red and Bobby and Eli are grinning. Even Adriano looks amused.
“Hurry up,” Mr. Parker roars at his lawyer.
The guy twitches and the ruler goes flying out of his hand.
Eli laughs. “Be nicer to your lackeys, Parker. A good CEO knows people perform worse under pressure.”
“Fuck yourself, Morelli.”
“No, thank you.” Eli grips my silver collar. “Come here, bella.”
He kisses me slowly, expertly, and my skin tingles. He pulls back, his amber eyes on mine “Soon this will be all over, and you’ll be free to play again. Won’t you?”
I know exactly what Eli wants to hear. “Yes, daddy.”
He strokes a thumb over my lower lip. “Good girl.”
One of the men behind Mr. Bianchi clears his throat. Another brings a subtle hand to the front of his pants, adjusting himself. My chest tightens with embarrassment, but I keep smiling sweetly at Eli. Mr. Parker wanted to use this time to harass me, now my men intend to use this time to harass him.
Eli presses another light kiss to my lips then directs me back to Doc. “Amuse yourself with Valente for a while, bella. Lord knows he’s not concentrating.”
“Fuck you,” Doc says easily, sliding his palms over my stomach. “Hey Zach, you wanna know something else about January? She’s a freak. Likes pain. Fuckin’ loves danger. She came when I fucked her with my knife handle. ’Course I was licking her pussy at the time…” Doc looks at Eli. “Did I eat January out first or was that you?”
Eli glances up from his phone. “Bobby was first. He was the first to fuck her too.”
“I was the first to fuck her pussy,” Bobby corrects. “Doc did her ass.”
“I did,” Doc agrees. “You should have been there, Parker. She was soaking and begging me for a lay, trying to get me to pop her cherry on the street where anyone could have seen her. So, I fucked her asshole instead. She took it like a porn star. All the way in with only spit for lube.”
My whole body roils with embarrassment, but I force myself to stay composed.
Doc grins. “Still, Eli busted in her mouth before I did.”
“True,” Eli says. “But January asked Adriano to take her virginity first.”
“Begged,” Adriano growls. “But Doc was the first man to come on her tits.”
“Ah, but you’ve been making up for lost time since then, haven’t you?” Doc says. “Parker, you wouldn’t believe how fucked up January and Adriano look together. Little girl riding that great big dick. It’s like monster porn in real life—”
“Mr. Bianchi,” Parker interrupts. “Can’t this be stopped?”
Mr. Bianchi looks mildly at him. “I can’t see that they’re insulting you in any way, Parker, and you’re the person who delayed this meeting.”
“But—”
“Are you questioning my authority?”
“No, but—”
“Clearly you are.” Mr. Bianchi gestures at the men behind him. As one, they slide their hands into their jackets and bring out shiny black guns. Mr. Parker stops talking.
“So where was I…?” Doc asks the ceiling. “…Oh yeah, monster porn…”
And so, it goes on. Mr. Parker’s lawyer rapidly turns pages as the boys describe the things they’ve done to me and the things they plan to do to me. Doc and Eli take turns kissing me and argue over who the first person to finish in my flower will be. I keep thinking they’ll run out of words, but they never even come close. By the time Parker’s lawyer shoves the contract across to him, they’re still going.
“…so we’re probably better off running a train on her,” Doc tells the other three who all nod as though he’s made a clever point.
Mr. Parker signs as quickly as his hand can move. “Done. I’m fucking leaving.”
Doc cocks his head. “What was that?”
But Mr. Parker is already around the table shaking Mr. Bianchi’s hand. “Thank you,” he says through gritted teeth. “May I leave?”
Mr. Bianchi adjusts his glasses. “That depends. You know what you’ve signed, don’t you?”
“That’s why I signed it.”
“Then go. And let this be the last time you speak to anyone who remains in this room.”
Mr. Parker snaps his fingers, and his men rise.
“Goodbye,” he tells no one in particular and then his gaze finds mine. His stare is so full of utter loathing, my skin seems to shift over my muscles. Then I blink, and he’s gone. Doc grabs my hand as Eli lets out a satisfied sigh and Bobby laughs. Only Adriano sits motionless as though he can’t really believe it.
But it’s over, and I’m safe. With four powerful, dangerous men around me, how could I not be?
We hang around in the conference room for a few minutes so we don’t collide with Mr. Parker in the lobby and then the boys shake Mr. Bianchi’s hand goodbye.
“Go and be well,” he tells them and then his blue eyes find mine. “You’ll sing at my wedding?”
“Of course, sir,” I say, dropping into the curtsy I’ve practiced for the rare times I’ve met royalty. Doc laughs, but I think Mr. Bianchi appreciates it.
As we enter the elevator, Bobby wraps his arms around me, kissing me so thoroughly, I’m almost knocked off my feet. “You did great, JJ.”
“Are you serious? I was mortified and I almost cried a bunch of times!”
“But you didn’t,” Eli says behind me. “You were poised and sweet and you held your own.”
He plants a kiss on my forehead. “You’re the queen of New York. I couldn’t have dreamed for a better woman.”
I bow my head, feeling pleased and self-conscious. “I’m happy just being the queen of Velvet House.”
Eli smiles. His amber eyes crinkle and it makes him look both older and a million times sweeter. “Long shall she reign. Now, since you are free and you are our queen, would you like to go see your sister?”