Page 24 of Room Seventeen

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“You’ve never told me what it means?”

He looks at me. “The tattoo? It represents the death of silence. When we took over for our fathers, we swore we would not be silenced by fear as they were.”

I wish I could be that strong.

“It’s beautiful and so is the sentiment.”

His head falls back and I continue stroking the bold, dark lines of his ink.

It’s always like this. They touch me and the world fades away to just me and them. Everything else turns to white noise.

I run my fingers through his dark hair. It’s much shorter than Dante’s. The ends barely touch the edge of his collar. “You could have left me in Seattle if all you were going to do is ignore me the whole flight.”

His massive back expands with a deep inhale. They never leave me alone.

“I could have spent my time organizing the freezer with all those cute little containers Ms. Rosa bought last week. I’m dying to find out how the lunch meat container works.”

I look between them and the sour looks I get back say they don’t like the idea of me anywhere but with them.

“You belong with us.” Con is always blunt if a little possessive. I don’t know if he realizes it or not.

It’s touching, but again, I can’t hide out behind their power forever. What kind of life would that be?

“Ms. Rosa loves having you around, but I’m pretty sure she and the gardener have a fling going on they don’t want us to know about.”

The cleaning lady is also the cook and long-time family friend the men treat like a grandmother rather than an employee. She’s the one who made sure I was properly packed for this unplanned trip to Chicago. This nude-colored cashmere dress paired with velvet thigh-high boots in the same light-brown tone and simple gold earrings is her doing with their money. Their care makes me look like a million bucks and I appreciate the attention Con, Bastian and Dante give me but it won’t last forever. Nor will my time with them.

Not after I tell them my darkest secret. And then tell them the other one. I hate to burst their little bubble, but my pill failed and now I’m at least three months pregnant according to the doctor.

“If this is just a day trip I could have stayed out of your way,” I lie. I just like to hear them say they want me near. It’s a power trip to know I’m wanted. Sue me. Besides, I have my agenda for tonight.

Three pairs of eyes pin me to the floor of the private jet. Plush carpet, ivory-colored leather, and a bed in the back that will fit all four of us with some creative planning are all signs of their wealth and power. But none of those things enter my mind when I look at them.

I don’t care about the millions it took to buy this plane or the Swiss watches on their wrists. I care about the men looking at me like I just reminded them of how hungry they are.

And I have nowhere to run this time.

“You do not belong anywhere else but with us.”

I nod. Not out of agreement but I know it’s what they are expecting of me. I owe them a lot. They have made sure I am safe even if they don’t know why yet.

Con moves toward me, his movements stealthy and graceful. “And since you are so bored, how about we give you the present we have for you,da moy nevinnyy?”

“I am no longer innocent,” I counter. And I have the proof of that truth snuggled deep in my womb.

“Aren’t you?”

The intent in his gaze catches my breath and I momentarily set aside what I wanted to talk to them about. “Con?” A pang of heat passes through me. The vision of all that muscle I know he has tucked under that five-thousand-dollar suit has me craving to feel his warm skin beneath my fingertips.

Con takes a white satin bag out of his pocket and dangles it in front of me.

“What is that?”

Bastian and Dante both move in our direction, each looking predatory in their movements. Powerful shoulders sway and roll under the material of their insanely expensive suits.

Cool steel, hot amber, and black velvet stroke over the swell of my perfectly outlined breasts in this clingy one-piece.

I swallow back a knot of anticipation. This is how it always is between us. I know those quiet looks mean. They want to play and I am all too willing to comply. Anything that keeps them from not looking too deep and wanting answers.


Tags: Penelope Wylde Erotic