Page 78 of Sapphires and Snakes
That answer, more than anything, eases my worry. My lips twitch toward a smile. “When you’re ready for business, call me.”
“And if I deleted your number?” She sniffs.
I let my smile loose. “I’m sure Pat can get it for you again.”
She shakes her head, pursing her lips like she’s fighting off a smirk. “It’s time for you to go.” She sweeps her arm to the door, showing me the exit. “We have a lot to do, and you’re making my men jumpy.”
I nod, catching Darius’s eye. He nods, offering Pat his hand in a show of respect I’ve not seen him give anyone except me. Pat frowns at it, seemingly recognizing the rarity before them. And then they take it. They shake it with a half-smile, saying thanks and goodbye.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” I offer my own hand to Zarina.
She blinks at it, amusement coloring her face. “Ask me again when I see you next.” She reaches out to clasp my hand with hers.
The moment our skin touches, a spark ignites in my veins, traveling to my chest and lighting an ember that’s been cooling since the moment Zarina broke into my office. “Hopefully sooner than later,” I breathe.
She releases me, pressing her palms together like she felt that spark ignite under her skin, too. “Stay smart, Tamayo.”
“Keep safe, princess.” I count it as a triumph when Zarina doesn’t scowl at the name. Instead, she smiles, small and fond,making my heart clench in my chest as I stride past her and out the door.
And hope we can start as clean as the pure white snow coating the city.
ZARINA
Iherald in the new year at Father’s bedside. He’s recovering well, but can’t lift anything yet, including himself. The family is worse off. A chunk of our ranks deserted after our fall from grace. I offered to house whoever stayed loyal in our home, unwilling to lose more of our number to Accardi retaliation.
Of which there has been plenty.
With us holed up on the estate, most of their ire has been aimed at our patrons, the people and businesses we’re meant to keep safe. Unfortunately, we can’t. So whoever refused to align with the Accardis received a beating as a warning and one more chance to switch loyalties.
Until Tamayo swooped in. Time and again, she’s shown up to protect the patrons we no longer can without demanding anything in return from them or us. The proud part of me is pissed—nobody asked for her help—but another, softer part of me that I refuse to give voice to is pleased. Like she’s stepping up for me in my absence.
Which is kind of true, seeing as I’m the boss now.
It happened the day after New Year’s. I’d spent the week prior doing everything my parents refused to do for so long—I shored up our defenses (Christmas Day should never have happened), set meetings with the other dons (not the Accardis) to renegotiate our agreements, and focused efforts toward profit streams that are already performing well. Add in the absolutely ridiculous rumors of what happened that day flying through the ranks—a soldier asked me point-blank if I ripped Danny’s tongue out of his mouth with my bare hands; I almost said yes—and it became a perfect storm of opportunity to call a vote of no confidence. Father’s consigliere, Jerry, agreed.
I might have pushed him to do it, but it didn’t take much convincing. Especially with Father backing my play. I’ve kept them both on as advisors. Though I won’t be keeping Jerry around longer than I have to. He’s a stodgy, traditional asshole and smells like tobacco. Ew.
Mother, on the other hand, has been frozen out. She wanders the halls, talking to the men. They all bow their heads in respect and then try to escape at the earliest convenience. I’ve issued strict orders not to speak to her lest they’d like to be thrown out of the house to face the Accardis’ wrath alone. So far, it’s been threat enough.
I lean back in the desk chair in the library and rub my eyes. The blood has been cleaned out of the rug and the armchair; the foyer is in the midst of being restored despite our diminishing funds. I couldn’t let it stand in disrepair, not with the Gallo name as wrecked as that damned room.
A knock sounds a moment before Pat steps inside. They close the door with one hand, the other holding a large, blue box. A very specific blue that is synonymous with diamonds and luxury.
“Happy birthday!” Pat grins like there’s something to celebrate.
I scowl at them. “I told you we’re not acknowledging the passage of time this year.”
“And I toldyouthat’s stupid.”
It’s not about age. I’m honestly happy to be older, to bealiveandfree. It’s about the state of affairs right now. We don’t have time to celebrate or lose focus. Every move and moment matters as we go through so many changes in such a short time. If I make even one mistake, we’re fucked.
And I can’t be the mafia princess that messed up her shot at queen.
Pat closes my laptop for me, setting the box down atop it. “Plus, there are gifts.”
“From who?” I eye the silver Tiffany logo with trepidation. I don’t think Pat would be as eager if this gift was a taunt from Marcus Accardi. Which means?—
“Angie dropped it off.” They push the box toward me, the thing about to topple into my lap.
