I hear a note of pride in his voice and my stomach knots. “Surveillance services for criminals?”

He traces his tongue over his lower lip. “Yes. But also, corporations and hotels and families like yours.”

“Like mine?”

“Wealthy people with a lot of assets.” He shifts on his knee. “I know the impression we must have given you, but Velvet House isn’t a gang. It’s a business.”

“I don’t think a lot of businesses kill people on their carpet. Or kidnap brides.”

He lets out a slow breath. “There are some complicated sides. But what’s happening with you, it isn’t standard practice. Parker is… different.”

It’s so strange to hear him say Mr. Parker’s name. I thought my math tutor and the man I was supposed to marry were separate parts of my life. Turns out they were actually joined long before I showed up.

“How does Mr. Parker fit into your business?”

Bobby’s face shifts. He becomes the man who killed Kurt again. I wriggle backward. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But take my word for it. Parker isn’t who you think he is. He’s dangerous.”

I picture Mr. Parker’s round face and baby blue eyes. “I’ve seen more dangerous cavoodles being walked through Central Park.”

Bobby doesn’t smile. “He’s a bad man. Take it from me.”

“But he’s always been so nice!”

Bobby surges to his feet, his face tight. “He was biding his time until you married him. How can you not see that?”

“Mr. Parker had plenty of time to be mean to me, but he never even touched me.”

A low growl rumbles in Bobby’s chest. “I never touched you either.”

“You weren’t supposed to be my husband.”

Bobby’s jaw juts out. “So you wanted to marry him? You wanted his filthy hands all over your body?”

“No, but I wanted to do right by my family. And I didn’t want to be locked in a cage.”

Bright red spreads down Bobby’s cheeks and into his neck like melted raspberry gelato. “You’re right. But that’s what I’m here to talk to you about—the other arrangements. You’ll need to stay here for a while longer. But once this has blown over, I think it could be a good idea, if you want, and you think it’s a good idea for us, for you and me. For us… Not that there’s any pressure. There’s no pressure. It’s up to you, JJ…”

His words sound like anagrams. Like there’s a message in there but I can’t figure out what it is without a roll of paper and tri-color pens. “Bobby, what are you saying?”

He clears his throat, so red I can almost feel the heat coming off him. “We can get married. For your protection.”

Somewhere in the basement, water drips.

I want to ask if he’s joking, but I’m pretty sure he’ll die of embarrassment. “Um, how will being married protect me from Mr. Parker? Aren’t you guys planning to kill him?”