Page 53 of His Queen

“I want you to pay for killing Felix,” he seethes, and I slam my fist against Maximo’s SUV, reverberations of impact rippling through me as a dent appears on the side panel.

“He tried to rape my wife!”

“She wasn’t your fucking wife! You lied. All of you.”

“Let her go!”

“You know the best part of this is the fact that I can exact my revenge, and there ain’t shit anyone can do about it.”

“Oh, there’s plenty I’ll do about it, like tear your motherfucking heart out.”

Nunzio scoffs. “You lied, Nicoli. Your marriage is fake, which means I’m allowed my pound of flesh for the murder of my cousin. Retaliate, and you risk losing the support of others.”

“You think I care about that?”

“You should. I would if I were you. I mean, your wife is gorgeous, but I don’t think any woman is worth risking everything for.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Let her go, Nunzio. She has nothing to do with this,” I say, trying my hardest to control myself.

“Of course, she does. You know—” I hear a scratching sound, imagining him rubbing his fingers along his jaw “—let's pretend for a moment that your marriage is legit and that wedding license isn’t bought. I’d have myself a double whammy here. Both a Tirelli and a Del Rossa rolled into one hot piece of ass.” He sucks air through his teeth, and I’m overcome with a rage that makes me want to claw out of my skin.

“Two families my family has been at war with for decades.”

“Then why don’t you come here so we can fucking end it?” I challenge.

“All in due time,” he says with an amused lilt. “But first, I thought we could have ourselves a little game.”

“What game?”

“The one that’s about to start.”

The line dies, and I squeeze the phone in my hand, crushing the glass beneath my fingertips before throwing it with a violent jerk of my arm. “Motherfucker!”

Maximo rushes up to me, his eyes wide and face contorted. “Did he hurt her?” I let out a breath, and he grabs my collar, pulling me close. “Did he fucking hurt her?”

“I don’t know,” I snap. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Jesus!” He curses and lets go of me.

“He knows,” I start and give Alexius a knowing look. “Nunzio knows that Mira and I got married the night I killed Felix.”

Maximo roughs a hand through his hair. “What does he want?”

“He wants to play a game,” I tell him, clasping my hands behind my head. “But I don’t know what that means.”

Maximo’s phone rings, and when he answers, I can see by the look on his face that it’s not anything I’m going like. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up and stomps to his car. “There’s a package for us at the gate.”

“I’m coming with you,” I say, opening the passenger side door and sliding into the leather seat. Caelian jumps into the back just in time when Maximo kicks the gas, tires spinning on the gravel as we speed down the driveway.

The second we stop at the gate, I’m out of the car, a brown box settled by the guard’s feet. “Who delivered it?”

“Courier.”

“Be careful,” Caelian says over my shoulder. “We don’t know what it is.”

I crouch down, pull out my Espada pocketknife, and slice its blade easily through the tape. The stench hits me as I lift the flap and look straight into his eyes. It’s the priest who married us—the priest Alexius paid to lie for us.

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