I choose my words carefully. Just because this situation has a silver lining, I can’t have anyone thinking they’re going to get their way. “I said we send the girl to Italy. I didn’t say what condition her pussy has to be in when she gets there.”

Adriano lifts his nose like a predator scenting blood.

“Hang on,” Bobby says. “Your cousin, if we tell him January’s a virgin and she doesn’t bleed…”

“Most girls don’t bleed,” Doc snaps. “Not if you can get them wet. Someone was gonna have to tell January to shove a needle in her finger on her wedding night. I’m happy for that to be me.”

“But the risk—”

“Are we Velvet House?” I ask Bobby. “Or some weak collection of assholes? I want to fuck Parker’s fiancée. And I don’t give a shit if we send some mafioso a wife who’s been screwed a couple of times. They should be grateful they’re getting Miss Whitehall for longer than I do.”

Doc’s eyes widen in mock surprise. “Elliot, that might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

I scowl. He knows I hate being called Elliot. I look to Bobby, expecting revulsion, but the corner of his mouth has kicked up. I can almost see the wheels in his mind turning. If I can’t marry her, at least it’ll be something.

Across from him, Adriano flicks his glass, making the crystal chime. “Who gets to go first?”

A new tension crackles through the room.

Bobby looks me dead in the eyes. “You pulling rank again?”

I could. It’s tempting. I turn to the monitors. Miss Whitehall is still singing in her white dress. She looks like an angel. I could tie her to my bed, lick her little cunt and take her as a man should. Keep her a few hours, then hand her over, soaking and fuck-drunk and thoroughly broken in. Then let the others do what they will, knowing I was her first.

But it won’t work. Resentment is already brewing in my brothers and resentment breeds incompetence. If I claim Miss Whitehall’s virginity, getting rid of her won’t help. I’d still be the captain of a ship falling apart under pressure.

I shrug in as bored a manner as possible. “No. I don’t need to go first.”

Bobby sits up straighter. “Then how?”

He’s got me there. I have no idea. And I need one fast before more petty bickering breaks out.

Doc snaps his fingers. “What if she still gets to decide?”

“She’s had ten fucking days to decide,” Adriano growls.

“Ah, but she won’t be deciding on her own. We’d be giving her a little help.”

I stare at Doc. “Do you mean…?”

“I do.” Doc grins. “Gimmie an hour and I’ll knock some up.”

Orchard.

The reason we’re all here. If I close my eyes, I can still see Doc swaggering up to my school gate, hair tucked behind his ears like Kurt Cobain. The girls at Trinity weren’t supposed to like a lowlife like him, but whenever he showed up selling, he walked away with a dozen numbers. Adriano was there too, glaring over Doc’s shoulder. Two years older and already hitched to a psycho with more brains than sense. They ran everything alone. No cartels, no bosses, just the pills Doc mixed in his basement and Adriano kicking the shit out of anyone trying to steal from them.