I look at his hands.
“Nothing you can touch, although…”
“Get to the point,” Eli growls.
“It’s a job. One night a week at Dreams.”
I stare at him.
“As a bartender,” he says firmly. “One shift a week behind the bar. The rest of the time, you’re at Velvet House sucking our dicks.”
“But you can keep all your tips,” Bobby says drily.
My insides vibrate with happiness and I clap my hands. “A job? I’ll have a job? I’ll work in a bar?”
“One day a week,” Eli says loudly. “Betty will keep an eye on you and if I find out anyone’s harassing you or trying to buy dances—”
“Give it a rest, Morelli,” Doc says. “Let the girl have her fun… That being said, I will gut anyone who lays a hand on you.”
I laugh, my heart lighter than it’s been in weeks, months, years. Maybe my whole life.
“Look at her,” Eli says, amused. “When we stole her, it was to make her hate us beyond words.”
Adriano gives an affirming grunt.
I might love all of you instead.
I don’t say it. Now isn’t the right time. Instead, I go around and kiss all of them on the cheek.
Bobby grabs my hips and pulls me closer. “I haven’t had you since Parker laid eyes on you. That feels wrong.”
“It does,” Doc agrees. “We should baptize her in our cum. Make sure she knows who she belongs to.”
Suddenly the chains of my dress feel much heavier along my skin.
“Sorry,” Eli says lazily. “But you’ll have to control yourselves. There’s a jet waiting at Thompson Airfield. We need to be there in forty minutes.”
Doc, Bobby, and Adriano turn on him.
“What the fuck?” Doc demands. “Work? Now?”
“I suppose it depends what you mean by work,” Eli says, but he can’t hold back his smile. “I’ve restocked the villa in Maui. I thought that after everything we’d gone through, we might want a vacation.”
“A vacation?” Doc repeats.
“Yes. A week of sunshine and swimming and fucking our little jewel senseless. Unless you’d prefer to stand around with your thumb up your ass, which you’re entitled to do.” Eli holds out a hand to me. “Coming,bella?”
I picture crystal water and lush forests. Canopy beds as big as whole rooms and drinks with chunks of pineapple in them. Twosomes that become threesomes and foursomes. Hours that run like honey, slow and sweet. I grab Eli’s hand. “Please take me to Hawaii, Mr. Morelli.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Fuck off, we’re coming, too,” Doc says. “There better be booze on the jet.”
We head for the pretty blue door, and I hear Adriano’s boots, Bobby’s dress shoes, and Doc’s sneakers fall into step behind my heels and Eli’s wingtips.
I don’t have all the answers, or any of them, but the contract with Mr. Parker is signed, my stepmom is gone from my life, and I’m the queen of Velvet House. How could this not be the start of a golden age? What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?
Epilogue
