Page 15 of Rubies and Revenge

And then Tamayo steps back.

Her touch leaves me, my body scorched where the heat of her kissed it. My clasped hands behind her neck break apart and fall to my sides as my jaw clacks shut before I can let out a huff. She stands with lazy confidence, black hair hanging in her eyes and suspender buckles shining in the black light. Annoyingly unruffled.

“As my fiancée, I think it’s time you went home.” Tamayo looks over my shoulder and nods to someone behind me. I fuel as much disdain into my glare as my short frame can hold, but she doesn’t react. “Can’t have you dancing with other people.”

“Maybe I’d like to make you jealous.”

She grins wider. “You shouldn’t.”

I can feel the hulking presence of Darius behind me, ready to effectively strong-arm me out of the club at Tamayo’s signal. Pat materializes at my shoulder with a soft rustle of their jacketagainst my elbow. The crowd gives us a wide berth, an island of stillness in an ocean of movement.

I cross my arms. “And what about you?”

“I have a club to run.” She stuffs her hands in her pockets.

“You have people for that.”

“Be a good fiancée, hm?” Tamayo’s eyes are shining with something like mischief, and despite knowing she’s pressing my buttons on purpose, anger churns inside me. “Wait for me at home while I take care of business.”

I raise my chin. “And if I choose to stay?”

Tamayo remains so very unruffled that I get the same urge I had upstairs to wipe the expression off her face, to do anything to force a reaction. “Then I cannot protect you when you choose to go. My people are available now or not at all. It’s up to you.”

Except it’s not an actual choice. Not really. Not when my parents or the Accardis will find me without Tamayo’s shield to keep my presence hidden until I’m tucked away safe.

And she knows that.

I shake out my hair and close the space she put between us with steps as slow as the beat she danced to with me. She follows me, eyes sharp and teeth sharper. I rest my hand on her chest, just above her heart. Our skin touches where her shirt lies open, and it sears my palm.

I rise on my toes and speak into her ear. “You’re my fiancée now, too. Don’t forget whose power you’re trading on, Tamayo.” I press my lips to the mole below her eye and scratch my nails across her collarbone as I stride away. “Keep your hands to yourself or lose them, hm?”

TAMAYO

My knee throbs, a bone-deep ache pulsing up to my hip and lower back. I yank on my compression brace, knowing it won’t be enough—it never is—but it’s better than nothing. The house is quiet and still so early in the morning, as if no one exists in the world but me. I breathe in through my nose and wish I had a cup of steaming coffee and no obligations for the day.

Unfortunately, those days are few and far between in this life.

I pull on my clothes, gritting my teeth when I have to balance on my left leg. Each twinge cues up another memory previously buried in a shallow grave. I’ve spent years visiting their headstones, paying respect to the revenge they demand, but never digging under the surface.

I stomp on their undead talons raking through my mind. There’s no use in excavating them. Not today, not ever.

Footsteps patter down the hall. I frown, checking the clock on my nightstand as I tame my hair. Darius will already be in the gym. No one else lives here. The guards are relegated to the perimeter, and the capos to the inner houses.

Except we have guests now.

The memory of the silk of Zarina’s skin under my fingertips, her hand on my chest, her hair against my cheek, tingles through me. I snatch up my Rolex and my suit jacket and slip into the hall. The pain in my knee fades to background noise as I stride across the wood floors of the hallway and down the stairs. I force my feet to slow as I pass the dining room, the den, and then round the corner into the kitchen.

Darius stands at the counter, pouring coffee from the carafe into two mugs. He glances over his shoulder at my entrance, but I’m checking the breakfast nook, the hallway, the deck. No one else is here. When I turn back, Darius is sliding a mug of coffee across the black, leathered granite island to me and shaking his head.

“Eager this morning,” he teases.

“Can’t I look forward to seeing you?” I toss my jacket over a bar stool and slip on my watch, clicking the clasp shut.

He levels A Look at me over the rim of his mug. “You can.”

I lift my own to my lips—“But you don’t,” he says—and almost inhale my coffee with a snort.

“Would be nice if you did.” He replaces the oat milk in the fridge with an exaggerated sigh. “I deserve more than grunts in the morning.”

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