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His hands fall away. “And the revenge?”
My knee twinges at the mention. “What’s more demeaning than watching your only daughter and appointed heir defy your orders, run away from home, and marry the head of a gang so far beneath Zarina’s station that her parents are threatening to stop the wedding before it can ruin their reputation?”
“I know you, Andy. That’s not enough.”
“No, it’s not.” I grab my handgun, double-checking the safety before slipping it in my waistband. “They left me broken. I plan to do the same.”
“How?” he asks.
“Mine Zarina for every bit of affluence I can while ruining her for anyone else, especially anyone considered powerful enough for the Gallo name. She’ll always be my castoff, always be the weak, spoiled princess who couldn’t close a simple deal with Louredo’s only lesbian gangster.” And by the time this engagement is over, that will be true. We’ll be more than a gang. We’ll own a true piece of this city and keep growing, swallowing up streets and buildings until we’re as fat and powerful as the Cardinal Families sitting at the top of their towers not noticing the foundations are rotting beneath them. Not noticing I’m eroding them like water, slow and steady. “The shame of her failure will infect the Gallo Family, hanging them by a noose of their own making. Even the Accardis will refuse to deal with them.”
Darius snorts. “You’re an idiot.”
“What?” I whip around to look at him.
He shakes his head with amusement. “You really believe you’ll be able to use her and leave her?”
“I’ll do what’s best for the family,” I snap.
He sucks in a long-suffering breath. “Idiot.”
“Don’t make me shoot you,” I growl.
Darius giggles—actually giggles. “I’m upping my bet.” He grabs a pen and sticky note off the desk and writes it out. “A grand says this implodes before we see a foot of territory.”
I smack his hand away with a scowl. “I’ll do it. You’ll see.”
He crosses out the number to write a new one. “Five grand.”
“Get out.” I stomp over and yank open the door.
“Don’t spend my money.” He tucks the paper into my breast pocket, and I catch his wrist, twisting it back, but he breaks my hold easily.
“Out.”
He pulls down his sleeve. “I got my eye on this watch at Cartier?—”
I kick at his ankles until he dances into the hall to evade me. He’s laughing as I shut the door behind us, turning the key to lock the deadbolt and shaking my head. “Movingon.” I punch his kidney without much force. “Casa Nostra.”
We walk down the hall past the bedroom doors to the top of the stairs, and I have to work to stop my gaze from drifting to Zarina’s door, my mind from wondering what she’s doing, where she’s at, how she is.
Do you want more?
I don’t know.
“When do we infiltrate the devil’s lair?” Darius rests his hand on the banister as he descends the stairs.
I stretch my jaw. “Wednesday.”
ZARINA
Irefuse to attend mass. Not after last night, standing before the Council where they sat in Saint Christophers’s pews, reigning judgment. Not after having Marcus’s hands on my neck, on my chin. Not after Tamayo’s touch pushing me over the edge. I can imagine the confessional now:Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. And I refuse to repent.
I sink lower in the bathtub, bubbles up to my neck and body submerged. The shower I escaped into last night didn’t do a thing to scrub away the feeling of Tamayo’s touch, the sound of her voice in my ear. And this bath isn’t helping either. Especially not when each brush of water feels like more.
My bedroom door clicks shut, and I glare at my unlockable bathroom door.
“Z?” Pat calls.