Page 13 of Rubies and Revenge

“So Zarina uses us as a shield. Fine. We’ll use her as a stepping stone to everything we’ve been working toward: A family powerful enough to keep our people safe no matter what.” I can’t let my story become theirs. I just can’t. “They deserve safety and stability—a real family.”

Darius stares down the neck of his bottle, swirling the light beer before taking another drink. “The deal with the Falcones will help us, too.”

If it even happens, I think. But I don’t say that aloud. “Peanuts compared to the gold that is Zarina Gallo.”

“And if she fucks us over?” he asks.

“Oh, I expect she will—she’s a Gallo.” I sip my drink and refuse to imagine her dress, her skin on my tongue.

Darius sets his drink down hard on the bar. “So, we beat her to the punch.”

“Exactly.” I raise my glass, and we cheers. The Gallos, the Accardis, the Capones, the Falcones—each Cardinal Family is as untrustworthy as the last. They run Louredo as if they built it, brick by brick, when in reality they infiltrated it in the dark of night and took what they wanted. Power. Money. Control.

The same things Zarina wants. The same things I want.

And for the first time since my parents forced me out of their house, since the Gallos kicked me out of their family, since I opened the doors of Den of Inequity, I can see my goal within my grasp.

Darius turns and leans back against the bar, elbows on the edge as he shakes his head. “Her parents…”

“Yeah.” I clench my jaw, memories unwilling to be forgotten threatening to slither out of the shadows of my past.

“And to Marcus?” Darius’s brows furrow, and his jaw grinds.

“Yeah.” My own face darkens. The most poorly kept secret among the Cardinal Families is the bruises Marcus leaves on his capos, on his own mother, on the sex workers who have the misfortune of catching his eye. Zarina said her parents loved her, but if they are willing to pair their only daughter with the barbarous Accardi prince? Questionable, at best. Outright cruel, at worst.

“I feel for her,” Darius says.

I blink at him. “You do?”

He shoves my shoulder. “I’m not heartless.”

“Just emotionally unavailable,” I tease.

He stands straight and smooths out the lapels of his jacket asif they’re not already impeccably ironed. “We all have our hangups.”

“Except most of ours aren’t out flouncing around in Gucci and glitter.” I leave out the part where he explicitly banned me from ever being a dick to said “hangup.”

He yanks at the sleeves of his undershirt with too much force, shooting me a glare. I roll my eyes and push off the bar. Whatever. He can hide from his ex all he wants.

He changes the subject. “The Accardis won’t take this lying down.”

“I know.” I stand at the wall of windows, the mirrored glass showing the club floor below fuller than when we arrived. Angie mixes drinks behind the bar with a glower, and the DJ skips to the next song too quickly. I rub the pad of my finger along the rim of my glass.

“And,” Darius continues behind me, “this might fuck up the Falcone situation even more.”

“I know.” I scan the bar rail, strobe lights from the dance floor flashing in sporadic bursts. Orange blares here and there, but never a dress. Never paired with hair almost as dark as mine and blown out in waves.

“You’re sure we’re ready?” he asks, voice softer than it’s been all night.

I don’t turn to him, don’t acknowledge the vulnerability lest he withdraw back into himself like he so often does. I straighten to my full height and square my shoulders. “We’re at a precipice. We can either scrounge for scraps, beg them to deign to deal with us, and endure more Antonis, or—” Orange burns in the middle of the swarm of bodies, and I still, watching. Zarina dances with her hands above her head and her hips as inexorable as the sunset, carving arcs with each sweep. I squeeze my glass tighter. “Or we can walk out on the knife’s edge and take what we want. Zarina Gallo is our knife’s edge.”

“And it’s not just because she’s a Gallo?” Darius’s voice is a few feet behind me now.

The tattoo on my shoulder itches again. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Darius stands beside me at the window, but I don’t avert my gaze from Zarina dancing. “The family deserves better than personal vendettas,” he says.

“I know.” But this is so much more than that. At this point, seeing the Gallos hanging from a noose of their own making is a sweetener compared to everything else we could achieve. They created their own worst enemies. Zarina, the daughter they betrayed. And me, the gangster they made. Plus… “Her parents wouldn’t cut this deal if they weren’t desperate.”

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