Page 80 of Rubies and Revenge

I scrunch my nose and drink the last of my champagne. The bubbles sit in my gut, glomming together to become one, big, uncomfortable super-bubble.

“Oh my god. I need to knoweverything.” She pauses and glances to Mais and Jaime, who are whispering to each other and probably not paying attention to us. Still, she raises her full glass of tequila soda to talk behind it. “Spill, bitch.”

“Not here.” I crane my neck for a passing server. I need something other than champagne or I might fill up with air and float away.

Sally clucks her tongue, disappointed. “At least tell me it was good.”

I raise a finger to a server, and they nod, making their way through the crowd toward us. The kids are still not paying attention as I meet Sally’s expectant gaze and hold it. “Better than good.”

A knowing grin slinks across her face. “I’d expect nothing less of a kinky sadist like her.”

“Sally,” I playfully scold her.

“So, why are you staring longingly? Why aren’t you getting—”She stops herself, glancing to Jaime and Mais. “Having a private party?”

I order a drink with the server—vodka Collins, because Tamayo got me hooked on it—and avoid answering Sally’s question. She knows more than she should already, which is almost everything. Over the past few years, I’ve spent too many nights lying on her couch while she sews or sketches or drinks with me, sharing deep thoughts about ourselves, our queerness, our gender expression. We talked about things that I could only trust with Pat before I met Sally. She’s always been one of the few people in my life who was so authentic, it demanded authenticity in return. Something I have always been happy to give to her.

When I came to her for our engagement party, it took all of three probing questions for me to spill part of the truth—my parents tried to force me to marry a man, so I got engaged to a woman. Tamayo. But Sally doesn’t know about the mafia politics, about the violence Marcus threatens with his very existence, about my family’s precarious position on the edge of extinction. And I don’t want her to know.

“You’re engaged.” Sally nudges me with her hip. “Eat the cake.”

I nudge her back. “Trust me, I did.”

“So, why not again?”

I pull in a deep breath. Why not again? Because I didn’t strike a deal to fuck around. I did it to buy time enough to figure out why my parents wanted to sell me to the Accardi prince in the first place. And all the information I’ve gotten is thanks to the Birdwatcher more than myself. Fucking waste of a mafia princess, I am.

“There’s a really nice spot behind the bar.” Sally’s voice drips with sensual suggestion. “If I orchestrate a distraction, you could…eat a snack.”

I shake my head, accepting my drink from the server andthanking them. I speak out of the corner of my mouth. “You’re such a slut.”

She winks, the movement exaggerated by her makeup. “I’ve got a plan?—”

“A plan for what?” Jaime asks, all cute naïveté and boisterous excitement. Like a puppy.

Sally leans forward like she’s telling a secret, her voice a stage whisper. “Zarina wants to surprise her betrothed with a gift.”

“That’s so sweet!” Jaime claps.

Mais nods along. “We want to help!”

I shoot daggers at her. That is not what I want. Not now, not later. In fact, I don’t know what I would do if I had five minutes alone with Tamayo.

Images of my skirt thrown up, out of the way; of my lipstick smeared across my cheek; of Tamayo’s breath hot on my ear as she says the dirtiest truths in that low growl she has flash through my mind.

Okay, yeah, I absolutely know what I’d do, and it makes anticipation and guilt blow the already-too-big bubble in my gut even larger.

Sally completely ignores me and my inner battle as she speaks to the kids. “We need a distraction, dears. To help them sneak away for their private moment.”

“When?” Jaime’s brows are furrowed, like this is of the utmost seriousness and they intend to do their absolute best to create the most effective distraction. Which I can imagine includes them making an unruly fool of themself.

Sally arches a brow at me, basically asking how much longer I can wait before I’m railed in a back room. Like I’m so thirsty I can’t wait until we get home tonight. I glance over Sally’s shoulder to Tamayo speaking with Darius, the two of them facing opposite directions. Her jaw is tight as she sips an oldfashioned, and why the fuck does that send a trickle of heat directly to my core?

“Five minutes,” I say. Damnit, I am that thirsty.

“What should we do?” Mais asks.

Sally rubs his shoulder with a smile, already endeared by him and his adoration for her. He was a gooey, mumbling mess when I brought him over to meet her. Behind the three of them, Alonso Accardi pushes through the crowd, making a beeline for me. His high collar makes him look like Dracula, and his disgusted face like he just drank poisoned blood.

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