“Let me guess, Marv, you prefer women to be kept.”
“Ain’t no shame in that,” he says.
“If it’s what she wants, there isn’t,” I agree. “But I get the feeling you aren’t the kind of men who allow alternative options.”
“Eh, I am who I am,” he admits. “Won’t deny it.”
“It’s funny.” Harry points a gloved finger at me. “Wasn’t there a time not so long ago when you were staring down the barrel of the same future?”
I shift in the chair, the ropes biting into my wrists and ankles. Apparently, they know more about me than I thought.
“Nah, she dumped that guy,” Marv tells him. “For his brother.”
“Ouch,” Harry mutters. “It’s a wonder you’re still breathing. Was that before or after he went to prison?”
“After,” Marv confirms. “But it makes you wonder when it started.”
“That’s not how it happened.” I blow out an annoyed breath, wondering why I’m even bothering to explain myself.
“That’s the word on the street.”
“Well, rumors abound.”
“What was the issue?” Harry drawls. “Matteo better in the sack?”
“Of course, that’s what you’d think.”
“Nah, these Mafia princesses are supposed to remain untouched until marriage. You wouldn’t break the rules, would you, Abella?”
I don’t dignify that question with a response.
“Well, if not that, then what?” Marv wonders aloud. “Because here you are six years later, still not married. Smells like trouble in paradise, if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you,” I reply in a bored tone.
“If it were me, I would have locked that shit down within the month,” Harry says, tipping his head to examine me. “What kind of bozo puts a fine piece of ass on the shelf for six years?”
“Fortunately for me, it isn’t you.” I scrunch my nose at the thought. “And my love life is none of your business.”
“The way I see it, right now—” Marv’s voice drops an octave, his threat clear. “Everything in your life is our business.”
“Or what?” I demand. “You’re going to send me back to my father piece by piece? Go on, then. We both know if that’s what your plans are, you’ll do it no matter what I tell you.”
“It must be a sore subject for you,” he says. “Being that your fiancé is at the Cat House at this very moment, banging his regular broad fifty different ways from Sunday.”
“Oh, please,” I scoff. “Like you don’t do the same thing every weekend.”
“Sounds a little jaded to me,” Harry taunts.
“You call it jaded. I call it realistic.”
“I think I get it now.” Marv wags a finger in the air. “You thought you upgraded, and now you’re bitter because Matteo can’t keep his dick in his pants.”
“You got me, Freud,” I mutter. “How much do I owe you for the session?”
Marv snorts. “You give this much lip to your fiancé?”
“I show respect where it’s due,” I tell them. “Rules don’t apply across enemy lines.”
