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I waggle my brows. “Can’t let my princess sit on an inferior throne.”
Jimmy laughs too loud, head thrown back. “At least take her home!”
“Or upstairs!” Logan teases.
“I’ll leave my card.” I shake Jimmy’s hand then Logan’s. “See you both at the party.”
“Looking forward to it.” Logan puffs on his cigar.
Jimmy flicks ash on the ground. “I’ll be in touch.”
TAMAYO
Darius waits as I stride through the lounge. He’s unruffled despite his time spent in the basement with Antoni. When he finishes scanning the room around me, he flicks his eyes left, like he’s pointing behind him. I pass pockets of men with women draped over one or two like pretty shawls and stop beside Darius.
“It’s done,” he rumbles.
I nod. “Zarina?”
“Pat’s outside the bathroom.”
I hum, looking down the hallway opposite the lounge. “Leave my card with Jimmy’s man and the district attorney.” I brush past him without another word. I don’t have to specify which card or which of Jimmy’s men, because Darius knows. It’s his job to know. And I have more important concerns to attend.
My jaw tenses and my steps staccato as I aim for the restroom. I asked one thing of Zarina before we came—behave. Stay with me and don’t offend anyone. Of course, she couldn’t honor even that simple request. The only time she listens is when she’s half-gone, flushed red with my fingers knuckles-deep inside her.
Fuck. That train of thought is not helping.
Pat tries to stand in my way, blocking my path into the powder room and to the door behind them. “She’s still inside.”
“I know.” I push past them.
They scoff and sidestep to beat me to the door. “Can’t a girl have a bowel movement?”
The force of my glare would make every single one of my people cower—even Darius—but Pat rolls their eyes like they’re not inviting violence with the action.
They cross their arms, and all I want to do is grab their wrist and twist. “Just wait a minute, and she’ll be out.”
“It’s been fifteen,” I say through clamped teeth.
“All the more reason to wait.” They must be severely confident to stand in my way without fear.
“Pat.” It’s my last warning. “Move.”
“You’re not my don, Tamayo,” they snap back.
“Half the underworld’s most powerful people are here.” I rest my hand on their shoulder, my thumb in the crook of their neck and my voice dripping with honeyed threat. “Don’t cause a scene.”
“And what are you doing, then?” They meet me octave for octave.
“To these people?” I bear my canines. “Taking what’s mine.”
Pat curses, and I don’t wait for them to step aside, reaching behind them to grab the door handle, push it open, and slip past. They let me.
The door swings closed behind me as I stop two feet inside the room. It’s too large for its intended purpose, the toilet behind textured glass and the lighting dim. There’s a vanity with a huge, gilded mirror hanging above it and a sink across from it. Zarina leans toward her reflection and rubs her lips together as she caps her lipstick. She dabs at the corners, the crimson color as bright as the rubies at her neck and on herfinger. She doesn’t spare me a glance as she replaces the tube in her purse and adjusts her hair like it isn’t already perfect.
“Impatient, much?” She scowls at me through the mirror.
The gold chains across her back glint in the low light. “I told you—five minutes.”