Page 80 of Sapphires and Snakes

“What?” I frown at them.

Path rolls their eyes like I’m being dense. “You two need to talk, Zarina.”

Okay, maybe I am being dense. They’re not wrong. I know that. “But now? Tonight?”

Pat doesn’t press this time. They help themself to a mug of tea, skipping the liquor, and lean against the sideboard beside me in quiet support. Their shoulder brushes mine, and I lean against them. Everything is so new, it makes me incredibly grateful that Pat, our friendship, our dynamic, remains unchanged.

My gaze falls on the crown again. Its spires peak out from the box, rubies shining in the stark sunlight. Then my gaze catches on the corner of the note beside it, and I scoff again. “Calls me a queen and a princess in the same breath. Fuckin’ ridiculous.”

Beside me, Pat coughs, but I know it’s to hide a laugh.

“We don’t have the security,” I reason. With Pat. With myself. With the room. “How would we even get there safely?” The last time I left the house, three Accardi SUVs followed us through the city, boxed us in on a deserted side street, and almost ran us off the road into an office building. The only reason they didn’t is Pat’s quick thinking and stellar getaway driving skills.

Pat sucks in a breath and scrunches their face. “Angie’s still here. She came with an escort, which?—”

“You’re kidding me.” I pull away from them, mouth gaping.

“No. I’m not.”

“Tamayo sent anescort?” I snap.

Pat grins, sipping their tea. “It’s almost like she cares, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.” I shoot them a glower meant to cool their tea and the blood in their veins. All they do is keep grinning back at me, unaffected. I huff, striding over to the box and slamming the lid back down atop it. The note flutters with the force of it, and I snatch it up. Tamayo’s handwriting is horrendous, her words barely legible. I scowl down at it, a line of the note unread by Pat.

I miss you,she wrote.Your knave, Tamayo.

Goddamnit.

TAMAYO

My stomach is a pit of snakes, hissing and snapping and writhing. Angie texted when they left the Gallo estate half an hour ago and then when they crossed the perimeter into our territory, confirming they met no problems along the way. I should feel relief. I should feel a smug rush of power that the Accardis wouldn’t dare move on my family, even as they protect Zarina Gallo.

But all I feel is anxiety.

The crown, the note, the calling in of the favor, it was a high-risk gamble. Zarina could have easily refused the gift, ignored the note, shunned my poorly disguised invitation. I wouldn’t hold it against her—a fact she likely knows.

The sound of the garage door rolling up echoes through the house. I push off the chair, wiping my palms on my pants and shoving them in my pockets to stop from fidgeting. The living room is lit with candles, the coffee table taken out to leave open space. I thought about rose petals, but it felt too presumptuous. Zarina is as likely to throw the crown I gifted her in my face as she is to hear me out.

And in moments, she’ll have the chance to do either. I have no idea which Zarina will walk in here. The mafia princess withan angry mouth, the savvy gangster boss who took her throne by blade and blood, or the woman who asked for a hug before she faced the father who betrayed her. I hope it’s all three.

Because all three make up Zarina Gallo, the woman I love.

Heels click across the floor. I straighten, keep my shoulders loose despite the tension gripping me tight. My fingers brush the rings in my pocket, the rubies scraping against my skin. I close my fist around them.

Fuck, I hope this goes well.

Zarina rounds the corner, stepping through the archway in the exact same gold dress she wore when I knelt before her in Saint Christopher’s and asked her to fake marry me. Her hair falls in soft waves, lips painted red. And atop her head, glinting in the candlelight, sits the crown I gifted her.

My queen.

She stops, taking in the room lit with too many candles and me, somehow both over and underdressed before her. “What’s all this?”

I don’t answer at first, not sure how to say all the things bubbling over my tongue. “You liked my gift, then?”

Zarina touches the crown where it sits on her head, like the mention of it reminded her of its presence. “It’s ostentatious.”

I duck my head. She doesn’t like it.