“I’m sorry, miss, is he expecting you?” the man asks. I realize with a start that he’s not just a friend of Mr. Dolce’s who’s so close that he feels comfortable opening the door. He’s some kind of servant. My head swims. I’ve been here before, but it was probably midnight by the time we showed up, and I didn’t see anyone who wasn’t part of the family.
“I… No,” I admit, totally thrown off my game by seeing someone who probably lives on my side of town working for Royal like this. Shit. Is that how he sees me? I’m just another servant, except my job is to service his dick.
A guy strolls by behind the worker, and I crane my neck to see past and into the house. A second later, the guy steps up behind the one who opened the door. I stare at him, blinking a few times to get my brain functioning right. He looks just like Royal but thinner and… Colder. Just meeting his gaze makes me shiver.
“Who’s at the door, Jones?” he asks, staring down at me.
I drop my gaze, taking in his tailored black slacks, caramel-colored shirt, and black tie. My brain stutter-steps when I take in what he’s holding. A baby name book. It’s so disconcerting in the hand of a guy who looks like he should be holding a gun that it somehow jerks me back into reality.
“You must be King,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Is that right?” he asks, one thick, black eyebrow rising slightly on his forehead. He has the same mobster accent as the rest of the family.
Randomly, I wonder if he’s a Swan, too. Or… He lives in New York. Would he want to know what his brothers are up to while he’s gone? Is this Mr. D?
But no. Mr. D is a disgruntled Swan. So, that rules out King.
“Who is it?” a voice calls from inside the house. And then another Dolce joins us—Daddy Dolce.
“Howdy,” I say, giving him my fakest smile. “Sure is lovely to see you again, Mr. Dolce.”
“Tony, please.” He holds out a hand. I hesitate before taking it. He gives my hand a quick shake and drops it, to my relief. He’s wearing a tie even at home on a Sunday night. One look at him, and he looks all pleasant and cordial. You’d never know he was a lush who hits on teenage girls just like Mom’s sleazy boyfriends. Guess the clothes really do make the man.
“This is Harper Apple,” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder and turning to face King, pinning me to his side. “Royal’s latest squeeze.”
King’s hooded eyes rake over me. “I’ve heard about you, too,” he says.
“I didn’t know you were visiting.”
“Just in town taking care of some… Business.”
The combination of his accent and the way he says the last word makes me instantly picture bodies being tossed in the river with cement shoes. Apparently I watched too much TV over the break. But seriously. Royal said King works in security. What kind of shady answer is that?
“Who you talking to?” calls a familiar voice from inside. Duke’s head pokes under King’s arm, and he grins up at me before straightening, keeping his big brother’s arm over his shoulder. All I can think is that he looks like a seal or a puppy playing with his siblings. Baron appears on King’s other side, throwing his arm around his shoulder so they’re all packed into the doorway together. Something in my heart twists tight the way it always does when I see their family, how close they are, how tight. Apparently the dress code doesn’t apply to them, as the twins are wearing shorts and t-shirts.
“Look who it is,” Baron says. “Our stalker.”
“Guess you had to come to the door this time, since I burned that motherfucker to the ground,” Duke crows.
King frowns at him.
“What?” Duke asks. “Harper’s cool. She won’t snitch to the Popo.”
I swallow hard. The whole reason I’m here is because I am exactly that. A snitch.
“She did get arrested for your ass,” Baron says.
“Because she knows how to take one for the team,” Duke says, grinning at me. “Don’t you, Cherry Pie?”
I glare at him, not sure if he’s oblivious or intentionally ignoring the fact that I’m clearly, incredibly uncomfortable with four Dolce men surrounding me, including their dad, who still has his arm around me. It doesn’t feel gross and pervy this time, though. It feels like a threat, an iron band holding me in place while his sons look me over and talk about me like I’m not here.
“I just came to see Royal,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry I interrupted your family time. If he’s not here, I’ll just go. And if he is, and you’re trying to intimidate me with your whole, ‘what are your intentions’ thing, you should have just come out with a shotgun. That’s what overprotective daddies do around these parts. And it doesn’t require four of you.”
“You know what happened to him?” King asks, jerking his chin at me.
“You think I’m going to kidnap Royal?” I ask, planting a hand on my hip and giving him a look.
“You can understand why we’re protective of him,” he says, leveling me with those cold eyes. They’re not dead like Royal’s, but they’re just as heartless.