Page 42 of Rubies and Revenge

“Right!” He snaps his fingers. “David’s nephew. Such audacity, you might as well have worn his balls for your own.”

I shrug. “He was getting handsy at coat check and wouldn’tstop.”

“You rendered him infertile.” Jimmy shakes his head.

“Weak boys like him have no business procreating.” I sniff. The insult is for them, not me. If I could tell the truth without losing the smallest bit of respect they’ve shown me, I’d tell them Billy Fawkes was a rapist and deserved worse than he got. If I were speaking plainly, I would tell them I was aiming for his gut, aiming to kill, but my hands shook and fumbled and the knife tilted wrong. But I can’t say that. Not me, Zarina Gallo, mafia princess and soft woman in a den of ravenous wolves.

Tamayo rubs her nose over my shoulder and pulls me closer as if I’ve slid too far down her legs. “Your ferocity is exactly what I love about you.”

“Careful it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass,” Jimmy warns with a dangerous grin.

Tamayo matches him tooth-for-tooth. “Might be fun.”

Everyone laughs, Jimmy and Logan and their men and Tamayo. I sip my drink.

Logan wipes at his eyes despite no apparent tears falling. “Only someone as crazy as you would take on the Accardis and the Gallos.”

“A fool for love.” Tamayo’s hand leaves my legs to raise her glass.

“A fool, indeed.” Jimmy crooks his finger, and a man with two bruised eyes, the skin mauve tinged with yellow, peels himself off the wall. He shuffles forward with his head hanging low until he stands before us. “Antoni, I believe you’ve met Andrea Tamayo.”

Tamayo sips her drink, but her grip on my waist tightens and her gaze narrows on Antoni.

“Yes, boss.” Antoni nods without looking up.

“Well?” he prompts.

Antoni turns, chin pressed to his chest, and clears his throat. “Ma’am—sir—Tamayo, please?—”

“Do it proper.” Jimmy’s voice has lost all warmth.

“Boss—”

Jimmy kicks out the back of Antoni’s knee. I snake my arm behind Tamayo’s neck, sneaking a glance at her face. She remains impassive, wearing that annoyingly unbothered mask she dons when she doesn’t want anyone tosee. I wish I could study it closely now that she’s aiming it at someone other than me; mark the tension in her jaw, the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, the set of her brow. But this is a show, performed by Jimmy to be viewed by Tamayo and me for god knows why, and to ignore it would be tantamount to slapping him in the face.

I lift my chin and look down my nose at Antoni on his knees.

His hands shake where they rest on his thighs, and his voice is strained as he speaks. “Tamayo, please forgive me.”

“For what, Toni?” Her voice rumbles in her chest, limned in violent threat.

He glances at Jimmy who arches a brow. “Mr. Falcone, um, he didn’t order me?—”

“No.” Tamayo sets her drink on the side table and lets herhand fall on my naked thigh. The cold condensation from the glass beads up between our skin, and she draws patterns with the droplets. “For what am I forgiving you?”

Antoni frowns, which makes him wince. “I don’t understand.”

“What did you do, Toni,” she asks, “that requires forgiveness?”

He gulps. “I double-crossed you.”

“Hm.” Her fingers trail further up my thigh, and only now does it hit me, full force with her knuckles teasing the hem of my skirt, that the last time I was in this position—sat on Tamayo’s lap as she touched me—was Saturday, when I begged her to fuck me. Red burns across my chest, up my neck, and I try to hide it with the raise of my glass and a gulp of my drink.

Tamayo’s touch slips just under my skirt. “And what will you do to earn my forgiveness?”

Antoni glances to Jimmy, who doesn’t offer an iota of help. “What do you want?” he asks.

Tamayo sighs, as if the question is loaded and there’s any way this won’t end in screaming. And with the way her fingers won’t stop drawing paths of condensation over my skin, I’d very much prefer my screaming to Antoni’s. She doesn’t spare me a glance, though, staring at the man on his knees. “I want what all men want—respect.”

---