Page 61 of Sapphires and Snakes
Darius checks his watch, a new one I bought him from Cartier. “We’re gonna be late.”
I let a grin slink over my lips as I hold the woman’s eye. She blushes and ducks her head, glancing back up. Coy. Almostdemure, despite the plunging neckline of her dress and heavy diamonds in her ears.
It only makes me wish for the opposite. For a woman with fire on her tongue and confidence in her spine. Forher.
I shake off the thought before it can show on my face and instead drag my gaze down the woman’s hair, to her chest, to her hand resting on the stem of her wine glass. “We need to be seen,” I murmur to Darius.
He fiddles with his cuffs and sighs. “Seduce the girl already.”
“You think I’m gazing across the room at wet paint?” I snipe.
“Lesbians.” He shakes his head and drains his beer. “All you do is yearn from afar. Thank god I’m a gay man. I think I’d die without Grindr.”
I laugh, letting go of the woman’s gaze to toss Darius an arched brow. “Millennia of repression and control does that to a gender. No need to rub your privilege in our face.”
He snorts. We’ve had this conversation before, both of us ribbing the other. “Admit it, you’d be on Grindr in a heartbeat if women would use it.”
I hum in agreement and turn my attention back to the woman. She flips her hair over her shoulder, drags her fingers down her neckline, but she doesn’t find my eyes again. “But women wouldn’t use it. And dating apps are only as good as their sea of fish.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waves off my point, which I’ve made many times before, and checks his watch again. He hasn’t worn another since I gave it to him last week. “Three minutes.”
I throw back the rest of my drink, rounding my total intake to one and a half, and push off the bar to approach the woman. She leans back in her seat, a smile tugging at her mouth, as I pull on one of my many masks, fit it snug around my body. My feet are sure, my gait full of swagger, and my face confident in the answer I know I’ll receive to this question. I slide in beside her,elbow on the bar, arm across the back of her chair and caging her in. I lean in without touching her, whispering near her ear, “Care to join me for a drink?”
She blushes, ducking her chin and looking down at her hands. So damn coy. “So long as it’s upstairs.”
I smirk like that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. And it is. Just not for the reason she thinks. “I like you.”
“I’m Sandra.” She smiles, her teeth covered in obvious veneers, and steps down from her chair. Directly into my chest. I let her. I let her and try not to gag.
But the urge grows as I slide my hand to the small of her back and lead her out of the lounge then up the stairs. I introduce myself, ask her if she has Christmas plans, do my best to cover up the disgust building under my skin. Darius follows a few steps behind as we enter an open room. Sandra heads for the bar cart as I tug my phone out of my pocket. It’s vibrating, but it’s not a call.
“I have to take this,” I lie as I back toward the door, hand on the handle. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Sandra reaches for the zipper along the side of her dress and holds my eye with what I assume she believes is a seductive stare. “I will.”
I can’t bring myself to react with more than a simple nod as I raise my phone to my ear and leave the room, closing the door behind me. I hold a one-sided conversation, wandering down to the end of the hall and speaking in low tones. A private call in a semi-public space. The other doors in the hall are either open to empty rooms or closed for meetings—whether clandestine or business remains unknown. Except for one.
I glance back to Darius. He nods at the top of the stairwell, and I slip into the last room on the left. I glimpse Darius post up outside Sandra’s door before I shut mine with a soft click behind me.
“You’re late.” David Capone stands before the fireplace, flames burning bright behind his legs.
“By one minute, David.” Jimmy Falcone sits spread out in a chair on the other side of the room. There isn’t a bed in here, only chaise lounges and overstuffed chairs. I wonder if it’s meant for business rather than sultry trysts.
David scoffs and sips his drink. “Why are we here? And with so much hullabaloo.”
I stride into the room with the same assurance with which I approached Sandra. Half the game in business and dating is confidence. Knowing that you’ll walk away with what you want. Even when my insides are actually churning with anxious uncertainty.
“The wedding is in a few days.” I tuck my phone into my pocket, leaving my hand there. “You can’t tell me either of you are happy about it moving forward. Not when it means the Gallo-Accardi family will outstrip you both in one fell swoop.”
David scrutinizes me like he can’t decide if he respects me or detests me. We’ve made deals, he’s treated me fine, but I know my sex and sexuality paired with my status as a gang boss disturbs him. I don’t have time to care, and he seems to agree.
“We can’t stop it,” he says.
Jimmy, on the other hand, delights in the chaos Zarina and I have wrought. Which makes me trust him about as much as I do the weatherman. He does what he wants within the bounds of the Council’s rules, but maybe once a week, it’s what I expect of him. Never more. That once a week will be tonight, I know, because Jimmy Falcone will take whatever chance he has to stop the Gallo-Accardi merger.
And I’m that chance.
“But that’s what you’re proposing.” He cocks his head, the ghost of a too-pleased smile twitching over his lips. “Isn’t it?”
