Page 50 of Unforgiving Queen

I shook my head. “I can’t. My venue for the show got canceled. I have to go scout some location options, or I’ll have to cancel my fashion show.”

It was the perfect excuse and the truth. Of course, Iforgotto mention that I’d be paying Maestro a visit now too.

“We can go with you,” she offered.

Isla sauntered in just as Phoenix started signing her answer, her wild red hair pulled up into a slick bun.

“Where exactly are we going with Reina?”

“Nowhere,” I answered quickly. “After I visit a few potential venues, I’m meeting Darius at the training center. So no, you can’t come with me.”

“Ah, there it is.” Phoenix’s expression was of annoyance. “It’s like you’d rather hang with him than us.”

When I blew an exasperated breath, Isla shot me a sympathetic look. “You prefer to spend time in that stinking center than have fun.”

“I have fun learning self-defense,” I protested. “It makes me feel stronger. Safer.”

It was the truth. The fact that I survived Angelo Leone was a miracle beyond sheer luck. I’d be ready if there ever came to be a “next time.”

“Maybe you should start up sessions with your therapist again,” Phoenix suggested, crossing her arms and staring me down.

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. And it’s not like I can tell her what happened.” I gave them both a pointed look. “This works and I’m sticking to it. Don’t make Raven and Athena wait. Go have dinner, then have fun out. I’ll be home when you get there.”

“I think you’re lying to yourself, claiming you’re fine,” Isla protested, her tone soft. “Three years is a long time to pine after someone.”

I averted my eyes, having a hard time denying it. I knew everything with Amon was history—long gone, never to be repeated—but it still hurt just as it had the first day he uttered those words.

You and me against the world.

I could deny it, but I was still as much in love with Amon Leone today as I was back then. The boy who destroyed me.

I turned my face to the wall and stared at the empty canvas while my mind replayed images I wanted to forget. The two of us dancing under the lanterns. Swimming in the clear blue sea. I would never love anyone the same, and no amount of rumination about the wrong kind of love worked. I was obsessed with him.

I returned my gaze to the two sets of eyes that watched me warily and I inhaled shakily. “I’m working on it. Self-defense classes are helping. Focusing on my career is helping too.”

The girls didn’t seem happy with my decision, but they accepted it. Twenty minutes later, we exited the Hermès building. Isla and Phoenix went right, and I went left.

Much later in my life, I’d realize it was that day that steered me back into the underworld.

18

AMON, 26 YEARS OLD

Trieste, Italy.

I watched the city buzz with life as the sea washed against the shoreline. It was picturesque and soothing to everyone but me. This was never my home, despite the fact that I was born here.

My muscles burned and sweat dripped down my forehead, blurring my vision as I continued slamming my fist into the mannequin’s face. I unleashed my anger, taking my training to the extreme. It had become my only sanctuary. The smell of sweat perfumed the air as my mind whirled in a hundred different directions.

I wondered whereshewas at this minute, what she was doing, whether she was happy, content. The temptation to look her up was so fucking great that after an hour of pummeling the mannequin, I finally caved.

I toweled the perspiration off my face and made my way to my laptop, flipping it open. Throwing the towel into the laundry basket, I grabbed a water bottle and began typing into my surveillance program.

I pressed several buttons until I located her. Yoga class. She still attended regularly. Did she still get panic attacks? She’d also started taking self-defense classes with Darius. I should have demanded Kian watch over her—he was three times her age. Not that blond pretty boy with long hair who took a shine to my… Fuck, she wasmynothing.

Motherfucker.

It took me a couple of minutes to ease the fire mounting in my chest. It was pointless; I could never manage to extinguish this possessiveness when it came to Reina Romero. I debated hunting down Darius and snapping his neck. It would be one way to end their weekly rendezvous.