Page 21 of Sapphires and Snakes

ZARINA

Ihaven’t slept in my room for three nights. Not since our engagement party. Which also happens to be the last time Tamayo and I fucked. We spent the last two nights falling into bed, curled around each other like koalas clinging to branches, and sleeping. Just sleeping.

Our engagement party also happens to be the last time I made any progress toward unraveling the Gallo family mess.

My computer lies on my bed while I stand in my en suite, guilt-tripping me without saying a word. It must have learned that from my father. I ignore it as I apply the last bit of my minimal makeup. Tamayo wanted me to be fully bare-faced, but I refuse to step foot in the lion’s den without any armor at all. My crewneck sweater collar sits on my clavicles, my Gallo necklace hanging bright red and gold, and along the column of my throat, Marcus’s fingerprints shine dark purple with hints of green. It hurts to turn my head or brush a finger down the skin.

All the better to garner sympathy with.

I throw my computer a grimace. “Later. I promise.”

I know I’m close—Mother confirmed as much with her reaction to the Gachico properties. And the Birdwatcher’s offerfor better information hangs like the most tempting worm on the end of a hook. I have options.

But half my options require betraying Tamayo.

I slip out of my room and down the stairs, meeting Pat at the garage door. We’re quiet as they start the car and navigate us out of the neighborhood and into the city to meet up with Tamayo and Darius at the mediation. I don’t know if Pat senses my mood or if they’re stuck in their own, but I can’t stop chewing my lip as I consider that the easiest, most effective path to toppling my parents’ stonewall refusal cuts straight through Tamayo’s family.

A path of my own forging.

I struck a deal with the Birdwatcher. I struck a deal with Tamayo. Both put Tamayo and her family in harm’s way. What’s worse is that I’m not sure either deal can truly lead to the outcome I want—my family pulled up and out of dire straits, the Accardis cut off by the balls and just as impotent, and my fake betrothed largely untouched by the dangers of my desperation. After almost a month, the only thing I’m sure of is that I would rather swallow razors than marry Marcus Accardi.

Now I just have to convince the Council to do more than stand back and let the chips fall where they may.

Pat pulls up outside Casa Nostra, and I do my best to focus on this moment. I promised Tamayo and myself that I’d play my part well. I can’t be distracted. And I definitely can’t gouge Marcus’s eyeballs out of his head like I want to.

The valet takes the keys as Pat and I climb the steps into the gentleman’s club. It’s mid-afternoon, but inside is just as dark as when we visited at night, the only light from the low lamps. We don’t step inside the lounge, though, striding directly to the staircase leading to the upper level. The man standing guard unhooks the velvet rope and waves us up.

I pause outside the designated room and pull in a steadying breath. Pat waits, not asking nor rushing. When I walk through this door, Marcus Accardi will be waiting inside. His fingerprints on my neck throb with each beat of my heart, and with it, my desire to carve my name into his pretty face grows.

I can’t do that. Not here. The next best thing I can do is reveal him and his family for the back-dealing scum they are.

“Okay.” I roll my shoulders back, straighten my spine, and enter the room.

Five men and one woman stand when they see me—Jimmy and one of his men, Marcus and Alonso, and Darius. And Tamayo. She offers me the chair beside her at a long table that doesn’t match the rest of the decor. A canopy bed stands on the far right wall, a chaise lounge under the large picture window scattering muted, gray light across the room. Two stuffed chairs sit against the wall, as if someone moved them out of the way.

I press a kiss to Tamayo’s cheek and settle into my seat as she pushes it in for me. I don’t spare Marcus or Alonso a glance, taking Tamayo’s hand tight in mine as if I need her strength in order to face my attacker.

Really, I need her to hold me back from climbing over this table and throttling him.

“Let’s begin.” Jimmy gestures for the Accardis to sit.

Darius stays standing against the wall, Pat beside him. On the opposite side of the room stand two other men with their hands clasped in front of them and their guns poking out from under their jackets—Accardi guards.

“Zarina Gallo has leveled a complaint?—”

“Accusation,” Alonso snaps.

Jimmy ignores him. “That, on October thirty-first, Marcus Accardi attacked her and attempted to kidnap and forcibly marry her. This occurred during a Council sanctioned event inwhich sacred hospitality was invoked and subsequently violated. Miss Gallo, is this summary accurate?”

“Yes.” My voice is clipped. I know Tamayo wants me to play a frail woman who is broken after an assault, but the thought makes me gag. I didn’t grow up watching death and dismemberment, enacting violence when necessary—and sometimes unnecessary—to act like I didn’t for the sake of a man’s ego. These aren’t my first bruises. And they won’t be my last.

Jimmy looks to me. “Do you have evidence to submit to uphold your claims?”

I press my hand to my chest, just below my collar. “The bruises on my neck.”

Marcus rests his chin in the crook of his thumb, half his fingers covering his chin, and looks at his handiwork with a sardonic brow. “Those look more like you and Andrea got a little… carried away in the bedroom.”

I squeeze Tamayo’s hand tighter and resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I raise a finger. “Pat.”