Page 22 of Dirty Game

"Though I suppose you're getting your money's worth nightly," Paulie adds, leaning back in his chair. "Italian women are always eager once you break them in properly. All that Catholic guilt makes them wild once you get past the virgin act."

"How many nights did it take?" Alexei Petrov asks Varrick directly. "To break her in? My father had a virgin once, took him a week before she stopped crying every time."

"Maybe he's taking his time," the scarred Russian suggests. "Some men like to draw it out. A finger one night, two the next. Make them beg for it by the end."

They're all watching me now, waiting to see if I'll react.

If I'll cry or beg or do something that confirms what they think I am.

But I've had years of practice at this—going somewhere else in my mind while men discuss using my body like I'm not sitting right here.

"My nephew had his eye on her, you know," Paulie says, and I know he means Tommy Fitzgerald even though Tommy wasn't really his nephew, just someone who worked for them. "Before the uncle offered her up. Said she was pretty enough once you got past the frigid act. Shame about his heart attack. Would have loved to see who she would have picked—Tommy or Bane."

"There wouldn't have been a choice." Viktor laughs. "Enzo would have sold her to whoever paid more. That's what Lombardis do—sellanything,including family."

"Speaking of family," Luigi leans forward, eyes glittering with malice, "how's your brother, sweetheart? Marco, right? Heard he's got interesting tastes. Did he ever sample the goods before Uncle Enzo put you on the market?"

I flinch.

I can't help it.

The cigarette burns on my wrist throb with phantom pain.

"Oh, he did something." Paulie notices my reaction. "Look at that. The little mouse has secrets."

Little mouse… only Varrick calls me that.

"Bet Marco taught her things," the scarred Russian says. "Brothers always teach their sisters things in families like that.How to keep quiet. How to be still. How to take it without complaining."

"Is that what you're good at?" Luigi asks me directly. "Taking it without complaining? Is that why Bane paid so much?"

Varrick still hasn't said anything.

He's drinking his whiskey, watching them circle me like vultures, and I don't understand why he'slettingthis happen.

Unless this is part of it—part of showing them what I am, what he owns.

"Maybe when you're done with her—" Paulie starts.

"I need to make a call." Varrick stands abruptly.

He looks down at me, and something in his expression makes my stomach flip.

It's not indifference.

It's something else, something controlled and calculating. "Don't move."

He walks away, phone already at his ear, leaving me alone with the wolves.

The moment he's out of sight, they close in.

Paulie actually moves to Varrick's empty chair, close enough that I can smell his cologne—something expensive and cloying that makes me want to gag.

"So tell me, sweetness," he says, wine sour on his breath. "Does he make you call him daddy when he fucks you? Or does he prefer you crying about your uncle's debt while he collects interest between your legs?"

I stare at my hands folded in my lap.

My nails are painted red—Maria's choice.