Page 45 of Rubies and Revenge

My grip tightens around my glass.

Jimmy settles further into his chair, the leather ready to swallow him whole, fully relaxed in this place that has always welcomed him. “How’re you holding up?”

“We’re fine,” I lie. There’s no way to answer honestly without yielding something—the way we’re spread too thin, the properties we own, the length of our reaching fingers. I’ve spent years buying up plots of land and commercial property under various shell companies to keep the Cardinal Families ignorant of my movements. Especially the Gallos. They can’t know the way we’re creeping into their territories, choking their income streams in a slow, imperceptible stranglehold. Not yet.

“‘Fine.’” Jimmy ruminates on the word, studying me. “That’s one way to put it.”

I glance to the archway leading into the hall—still empty.

Jimmy heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Zarina is fine.” His voice is on the edge of a snap.

I adjust my body to give him my full attention, knowing I am here by the grace of his invitation.

“You need friends, Tamayo. That’s why I invited you here.”

I rest my drink on the arm of my chair, fingers loose around it. “What are you proposing?”

“Business, of course. The only sacred thing left to men like us.” He gestures at Logan and then me.

I hum, barely withholding a snort at the irony of my being man enough for business but not man enough for much else.

“The Accardis are reaching too far, digging too deep.” His voice is low, meant to be heard by Logan and me only. “And with the way Marcus and Alonso can’t keep their dicks in their fucking pants, war is too likely for my taste. I need guns. And you need legitimacy.”

“Isn’t that why I’m marrying a Gallo?” I ask.

He shakes his head before I finish speaking. “That might be enough if you were a man. It was for Ricci.”

Irony strikes again. Not man enough to marry into a Cardinal Family. Unlike Riccardo, who married Alessandra Gallo and took on the role as don without an eye batted.

“If you can call him a man.” Logan pulls a face in disgust. “Would you do the same, Tamayo? Would you take the Gallo name?”

If it were another name, I might. If it weren’t the family that broke and abandoned me. My knee twinges, the ghost of an old pain pulsing deep in my bones. It hurts when it rains. It aches after a long day. It swells if I pivot too quickly. All thanks to the Gallos.

I ignore Logan’s question and look to Jimmy. “So, you want to cut a deal.”

His lips twitch, fighting a smile. “I do.”

“And what do I get in return?” I drag a finger through the condensation coating my glass.

He snorts. “My money.”

“Seems unbalanced to me.” I lift my drink and hold Jimmy’s gaze over the rim. “If the war you believe so inevitable breaks out, you could use my own guns against me.”

He shrugs. “The deal is the deal.” He says it like it’s inscrutable. Like selling him the very weapons that could spell mine and my family’s destruction if the mockery of my engagement is revealed isn’t the exact definition of absurd. A few days after the Council meeting and already we’re dealing with vandalism, assault, harassment, robbery, and trespassing. And he distills that into a shrug, unbothered because he doesn’t have to be.

Angie’s words during our phone call earlier echo in my ears.The Den is supposed to be a place for our people to be themselves, to feel safe, and it’s theirs as much as it is yours… So take it the fuck back.

I set my ankle on my knee and consider him. He’s worried about the Accardis, about their too-greedy hands digging into dirt not meant for them. It’s been a quarter of a century since the Russos fell, but it seems Jimmy hasn’t forgotten what led to boundaries set in blood-soaked asphalt. He wants me to bear the brunt of the oncoming storm while he sits safe in his shelter.

I’m here to tear the shelter down.

“You’re right, Jimmy.” The compliment releases the smirk ready on his lips. “I need friends. I can’t do this alone.”

He nods, pleased with himself. “I knew you were smart.”

“But I need more than money.”

His smirk tightens into a frown.

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