Page 50 of Sapphires and Snakes
I look to Pat in horror. They frown at the screen. It’s a video call, unexpected and inappropriate. They take the phone from my hand and accept the call, not showing myself or anything more than the booth behind them.
The image that greets us forces me to stifle a gasp.
Rita Pollard of Pollard Properties Corp. and director of Alphabet House and pseudo-mother figure to Andrea Tamayo sits in a chair in her office. She glares at whoever holds the phone, her hands gripping the armrests so hard her knuckles could cut through her own skin. And beside her, smug and smirking, is Marcus Accardi.
Holding a gun aimed at her head.
“Patrizia,” Marcus drawls Pat’s full name. A curl hangs down his forehead as he stares into the camera, entirely too pleased with himself. “May I speak with Zarina, please?”
I don’t allow Pat to answer. I snatch the phone out of their hands. “What the fuck are you doing, Marcus?”
“Hello, my love.” His smirk widens into a ruthless grin, canines sharp and threatening.
Alarms ring through my body. I freeze, knowing what that smile means. Marcus is not just a cat with a mouse caught by the tail, he’s a lion lazing in the Saharan sun after gorging himself. Comfortable in his victory, because he’s already got what he’s wanted, already reveling in the fear leaking out of every pore in Rita’s skin.
“What the hell is going on, Zarina?” Rita’s voice trembles, though she tries hard to tamp it down.
My heart lances with pain alongside its current ache, but my pissed expression doesn’t change. And I don’t answer. Not whenit could give Marcus more leverage. Not when he already has too much.
“That’s precisely what I’m wondering,” I grind the words through my clenched teeth.
Even the way Marcus is standing is disconcertingly nonchalant, like he’s waiting in line at the fucking grocery store rather than holding a civilian at gunpoint. “I’ve decided to give you one last chance.”
“To what?” I want him to spell it out in fucking crayon.
“Marry me. Seal the deal. Accept your fate—however you choose to phrase it. And if we cannot come to an… amenable agreement, then who knows what I’ll do.” He switches the safety off, and Rita visibly shudders, her eyes watering despite the force of her glare.
“Where are the kids?” I ask.
“They’re fine,” Marcus answers. “Don’t even know what’s going on. For now.”
All the wine in my stomach sloshes into a solidified ball that threatens to crawl up my throat. He stands in Rita’s office, holding her hostage, while Mais, Jaime, Harriet, all of them, sit upstairs, in the rec room, the library, and think they’re safe from the horrors of their past. Each of them arrived at Alphabet House searching for acceptance, for the love their family’s withheld.
And now a monster walks among them.
I look to Rita. “Is that true?”
She gives a curt nod. I still tap the table, and Pat immediately dials Mais.
Marcus moves to stand behind Rita’s chair, gun rounding to her right temple as he brushes his fingers over her collarbone, up her carotid, along her jaw. Rita flinches, but doesn’t pull away. There’s nowhere for her to go. He’s all around her, a maliciousspecter invading her office like noxious gas. “You know what will happen if your gangster shows up, don’t you?”
“You should be more worried about what will happen if I show up,” I growl.
“Either way…” He rounds Rita’s chair to lean against the large desk, as whoever’s holding the phone adjusts their position to keep him and her in frame. He rests the gun against his thigh, finger poised over the trigger, and stares the camera down. “Any hint of a rescue mission and the bitch dies.”
Rita’s eyes widen. “Zarina?—”
Marcus backhands her across the face. Her body twists with the force of it, blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. And he stands there, hands clasped as if he didn’t move an inch.
Rita breathes hard, clutching her cheek and blinking at the floor like she’s forcing back tears. I freeze every muscle in my face to keep the furious glare in place and bury the concern and guilt lest he use them against me. Against her. Rita straightens, leveling a glare of her own, and spits blood at his feet.
Marcus shoves the tip of the gun into Rita’s forehead hard enough to force her to yield to the pressure. He holds her glare as he speaks to me. “Look what you made me do, Zarina. This didn’t have to involve anyone but you and me, but you’ve ignored my other methods of persuasion. And I’m out of patience.”
“Persuasion? You mean your pathetic attempted kidnapping?” I snap.
He smirks at me as if he thinks we’re flirting, like this volley of insults is foreplay before I fall to my knees in submission. “Careful, baby, you don’t want to force my hand.”
Behind my phone, Pat holds up their own with a note in large font.The kids are okay. Mais is taking care of them.The tiniest sliver of relief rolls down my spine, quickly replaced by bright panic. They’re only okay so long as I keep Marcus happy.
