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"Tell us your name again." The third man narrows his eyes. "To prove you are who you say you are."
"I’m Jericho." I try to maintain my composure.Always fight fire with sweetness."You three never told meyournames."
"I’m Marcello." The first man issues me a curt stare.
I take a good look at him. At six-foot-five with dark cropped hair and deadly tattoos, Marcello is a stunning specimen of a man. He has brown eyes and bulging muscles that must drive boys wild. The mysterious scar on his jaw piques my interest.
"I’m Lazaro." The second man glares at me.
My gaze shifts to Lazaro next. He’s taller than Marcello at six-foot-seven (I’m eyeballing these numbers). His right arm boasts a snake tattoo with Arabic writing—I can’t help but wonder what it means.
"I’m Santino," the final man says.
At six-foot-ten, Santino towers over his two brothers, the tallest of the trio. His eyes are black and specked with gold. Something dark and deadly sits within them. The scars criss-crossing his body make me think he's done some fucked-up shit.
A tingle works its way up my spine. Christ—I hate to admit it, but these men aren’t bad looking. They remind me of the feral beasts that protected the innocent new boys in Rikers Island.
I picture myself settling onto Santino’s lap while Lazaro brushes my hair, listening to Marcello read me bedtime stories. Then Lazaro could remove my toy soldiers from their protective plastic tubby and slide them on the floor for me to play with.
Knock it off—these men need to PROVE they’re worthy of your regression. If not, then your Little won’t come out.
I stare at each of the men. "I must be Goldilocks," I drawl sarcastically.
What? It’s what we’re all thinking.
Lazaro growls as he ticks my chin up. "You’ve got a bratty side, boy."
I shake his hand off. "I’m only saying what’s on my mind."
If these three beasts think I’m going to self-censor around them, they’re sorely mistaken. Eight years in prison taught me to stick up for myself—never hide who I am.
Marcello’s right eye flickers. "We have an afternoon full of activities planned for you."
"I’m glad to hear that." I go for maximum sweetness.
"However, if you keep up this attitude," Marcello growls, "I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our plans."
Lazaro shoots Marcello a questioning look. "What will we do instead?"
"Don't question Marcello’s authority in front of the boy," Santino hisses. "He’ll think he doesn’t need to respect us."
I take a brave step forward—brave because these three men could squash me with their fists."I’d also like to hear the alternative plan."
Marcello crosses his arms over his chest. "Discipline lessons."
I snort as I shake my head. "Nah, let’s go with the first course of action. I’m not in a discipline kind of mood."
Santino takes a powerful step forward.
The ground shakes when he walks.
Leaves fall off trees as his piercing black-and-gold eyes flare.
"We make the plans here. Not you."
ChapterTwo
LAZARO
