“The blond thug?” she suggests, toying with her neckline.
“Domenico,” I agree. “Although Adriano should be your larger concern. He has more skill with a sniper rifle.”
Mrs. Whitehall laughs. “I’m not worried about that. In fact, it might be you gentlemen who should be worried.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “Are you threatening us?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says sweetly. “Although I could guess that Zachery Parker still has plenty of reasons to want the four of you out of the way.”
Out of frame, I grip the edges of my desk so hard my knuckles pulse. “That sounds dangerously like you might be in contact with Parker, Mrs. Whitehall. Which would violate the Bianchi contract and result in both of you dying tonight.”
She laughs. “Things are often a lot more complicated than that, Mr. Morelli. You know, for all your business sense, sometimes you sound as simple as January.”
Adriano sucks in a sharp breath.
Out of the corner of my eye, lightning flashes, staining my office white and gray. Another bad omen.
“How dare you speak about January that way,” I snarl. “You don’t know the first thing about her. You’re a loveless woman, as cold as you are superficial, and this conversation is over.”
I float my finger to theendbutton, but Mrs. Whitehall leans forward. “It’s a shame we didn’t meet years ago, Elliot. I think we’d make quite a match. And Lord knows January needed a father figure.”
I flash her a wide smile. “There’s no need for a middleman. January already calls meDaddy. Have a good evening.”
I end the call, my pulse hammering in my throat. “What a fucking disaster.”
Adriano nods, his gaze fixed on the wall across from us.
“She was threatening us,” Doc says. “And I don’t care what the Baskerville twins think, Parker’s planning something.”
“I agree.”
“So, what now?” Adriano growls.
None of us say anything. I sit and watch the lightning split the sky, illuminating the grounds of Velvet House in bursts. Things are in motion, and I have no ability to control them.
Chapter Four
January Whitehall
Iwake uplate, my head still full of crazy dreams. I usually sleep badly after bar shifts, but this is different. Mr. Parker feels close. Very close. In my nightmare, he had smoke for a head and followed me down the halls of Velvet House swinging a sword, screaming my name. NotJanuary, some other name I can’t remember. Trying to recall the details sends ice pricking down my neck and spine.
I sit up, clutching my sheets to my bare boobs. I’m alone. I have vague memories of Doc and Bobby kissing me on the cheeks and forehead as they crept away to work or swim or whatever they have planned for today. It’s rare for me to wake up by myself and usually I like it, goofing around on my phone until someone, mostly Adriano, brings me cereal and juice in bed.
Today it feels spooky.
I get up and quickly dress in a loose T-shirt and shorts. Hanging in my walk-in closet is the gown I’m wearing to the Bianchi wedding, a gorgeous pink Dior dress that Eli helped pick out. The wedding is now only six days away. It shouldn’t feel like it’s crept up on me. I’ve had three dress fittings and booked a hairstylist and makeup artist, yet it still feels like a surprise.
Or maybe more like a nightmare.
I was worried enough about having to sing in front of hundreds of strangers but now Corinne and Mr. Parker will be there too. The worst additions to a celebration of love I could possibly imagine. In the last year I’ve tried to block Mr. Parker from my mind—pretend as though he doesn’t exist the way the boys do. But he never quite goes away. Instead, he hangs around like the smoke-headed monster he was in my dream. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because he’s thinking of me, forcing my attention back to him.
I wish Doc was here. Whenever I have a bad dream, he gets me to draw a picture of it and then he stabs it over and over with his butterfly knife, tearing it to shreds as he yells,get the fuck away from my woman.
A crazy ritual, but it usually makes me laugh and always makes me feel better.
I wander toward my gilt-edged mirror and pick up a discarded lipstick, a pale pink that doesn’t really suit me, but it would look perfect on Emilia, Mr. Parker’s redheaded girlfriend.
I’ve only met her once, but I think of her as a kind of shadow twin. I was supposed to live under Mr. Parker’s heel, but the Velvet House boys kidnapped me at our wedding and made me their own. Now, Emilia is the one who lives with Mr. Parker, satisfying his sexual needs and listening to his ramblings.
