Page 119 of Velvet Cruelty

He sounds mildly annoyed, as though he’d lost a wallet. He grips my wrist, crushing it in his fleshy, too-hot hand. “Why didn’t they keep filming you? Why didn’t they force themselves on you?”

I think back to that dinner at Velvet House. The five of us sitting around the polished dining table eating and drinking and laughing. I should have said yes to staying there. If I had, I’d be safe and Zia Teresa would still be alive.

I touch a finger to my shoulder, where my St. Christopher is hiding beneath my dress strap. Zia Teresa is with me now. I carry her in my heart. And she once told me not to blame myself for what other people do, but to focus on my own survival.

Mr. Parker is still watching me, waiting for an answer.

“I think they had feelings for me,” I say quietly. “They didn’t want to force me. They wanted me to choose them.”

He gives a giggling snort. “That’s fucking hilarious.”

His bodyguards grin obligingly.

I bite back my own secret smile. Mr. Parker believes me. He knows I’m still a virgin. He’ll keep me alive just to mock the men who stole me from him. As his limousine whirrs through the city, I repeat their names like a mantra. Elliot Morelli. Domenico Valente. Roberto Bassilotta. Adriano Rossi.

They’re murderers. Dangerous, violent men. And they will come seeking bloody revenge. I just have to survive until they find me.