Page 15 of Sold to the Silver Foxes

Carefully chosen words to remind us who is actually in control here. Not us. Barely Tabitha. The real authority here is Pietro Dumas, but the reminder is not needed.

I knew it when we entered his office.

Had I known who was in charge of this soiree, I would have never come. At first, I thought Dante had kept that from us. But after seeing the shock plain on his face upon seeing Pietro, I knew better. Dante didn’t know either.

The elevator glides upward, and Pietro continues, “Rules are simple enough. Condoms are mandatory for any intercourse. Lube is mandatory for anal.” He glances at Tabitha, voice gentle. “The pearl necklace stays on at all times—removing it would be considered a direct threat to your safety, which triggers our security response. You’ll find that The Armory doesn’t tolerate harm to its virgins. Harm to her is an insult to the Dumas name.”

Tabitha’s hand flutters toward the delicate pearl strand around her neck, clearly reminded of its dual function as a panic button. I sense her quiet relief that someone’s looking out for her. She has no reason to think me or my brothers would do that, so as much as I loathe Pietro’s hand in this, I’m glad she has the comfort of his presence in her corner.

Pietro’s gaze shifts to us. “No cuts, no bruises, no broken bones—nothing that would constitute genuine harm. Keep it sane and consensual. Understood?”

Nico’s brow furrows, and Dante nods, his usual cocky grin gone. Neither one objects to the rules, not with that ironclad contract we signed. Not that our tastes range in that zone. I clear my throat. “Of course not, Pietro. We’d never harm her, and we certainly wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Then Pietro turns back to Tabitha, dipping his chin politely. “My dear, could you remind us of your safeword, for clarity?”

Tabitha’s throat bobs in a nervous swallow. “Cherry,” she says, voice catching. “If I say it, things stop, right?”

He nods. “Precisely. If you safeword, everything pauses. If you decide you want to end the night entirely, that’s your right. You have the right to walk away at any time. It will affect your payout, so keep that in mind. But yes, you can make anything stop at any moment.”

We’ve heard this spiel before—my brothers and I are no strangers to clubs like Black Fox, after all—but I appreciate the thoroughness. There’s something about Pietro’s calm, almost paternal demeanor that eases the edge of tension in the elevator.

Saluting slightly, Dante says, “We’re members at Black Fox, so trust me, we get it.”

Pietro’s mouth curves in a sly smile. “Then you might consider joining us here. We can show you all sorts of fun things to try with the human body.” His attention flits briefly to Tabitha. “But for tonight, you will treat her like the treasure she is.” He rests a hand lightly on the elevator rail as the car glides to a halt. “Here we are.”

The doors slide open, revealing an opulent hallway with a thick, plush carpet and gilded sconces along the walls. Security guards stand at every corner, wearing sleek black suits, arms folded, earpieces in. Their expressions suggest they’re not just for show. One acknowledges Pietro with a slight nod. The rest keep their watchful eyes peeled.

“You see,” Pietro murmurs, gesturing at the guards, “we take our virgins’ safety very seriously. If someone crosses a line, they’ll regret it. I trust that won’t be necessary in your case.”

I meet his gaze, letting out a short, even exhale. “There will be no cause for regret.”

He guides us to a double door at the end of the hall, produces another key card, and unlocks it. “This is the suite you’ll use for tonight. If you decide to stay longer in The Armory, we can arrange more permanent accommodations.” He pushes the door open, revealing a room that’s almost startling in its grandeur.

It’s more than a bedroom—it’s an erotic playground. Low, ambient lights cast a warm glow on rich burgundy wallpaper. A massive, four-poster bed occupies the center, draped in black silk sheets. On one side, there’s a piece of kink furniture I recognize instantly—affectionately referred to as amerry-go-bound, a rotating padded platform with straps at various points. It stands at about waist height, designed for imaginative positions and thorough restraint.

The place must be loaded with additional toys, but the details blur as I scan the suite. My eyes catch glimpses of black coils of rope on a side table, a chest that likely holds implements, and three discreet doors that presumably lead to separate bedrooms or bathrooms.

Tabitha draws in a sharp breath. She hovers in the doorway as Pietro steps aside. He smiles kindly at the girl. “You’re in good hands. Should you have any reason for concern, your necklace is your lifeline. Barring that, give a shout, and security will break down the door to assess the situation. Additionally, see that?” He points to a bright red button on the wall. “Any pressure on that button will trigger a full breach by my team. Whatever option is best for your situation, they are all available at your whim, Tabitha.” With that, he disappears back into the corridor, shutting the door behind him.

The moment Pietro leaves, the hush in the room thickens. Tabitha’s shoulders lift and fall in a shallow breath, and she glances from me to Nico to Dante. Suddenly, her composure cracks—her eyes are wide, like a rabbit about to dash into the forest. The swirl of tension in her posture suggests she might bolt if we so much as blink wrong.

I step toward her slowly, removing my mask in the process. It’s a relief to get it off—I prefer directness to hiding behind a façade. My brothers do the same. Tabitha eyes each of us in turn, as if committing our faces to memory. Her own face flushes under the soft lighting, the color creeping from her collarbone to her cheeks.

I offer a low, reassuring murmur. “I realize this must feel…extremely unusual for you.”

She snorts—a small, nervous sound. “Ya think?”

A short laugh escapes me, genuine. “Point taken.” At least she’s not meekly accepting this without a spark of personality. “We have all night, or as long as you’re comfortable. No one’s rushing you into anything. We can talk first, or?—”

She shakes her head, hugging her arms around her torso. “I appreciate that. It’s just…you’re all strangers, and I…” She exhales shakily. “I’m in over my head.”

“You’re in control here,” Dante says, stepping around me to face her. His voice holds a gentleness that, honestly, I didn’t expect from him. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want, Tabitha.”

I watch her shoulders tighten again, tension rippling through her. Clearing the distance between us, I move in front of her, blocking her wide-eyed view of the rest of the suite. “Sal,” I say, introducing myself quietly, though she knows my name from the contract. “If you’re willing to trust me, I can help you relax.”

She meets my gaze, swallowing. “Okay.”

“Lie on the bed. On your stomach.”

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