9. Zarina
ZARINA
A lot can happen before the bell chimes twelve.
I could lose more than a shoe. I could lose my best chance at taking the power I crave. I could lose my hand in marriage to a man. Or I could lose my clothes in one of the VIP rooms if the whispered words of the woman at my back are true. Of the three possibilities, I’d much prefer the latter. And if there’s nothing to be done but wait for Tamayo’s decision to come down from her throne room on-high, then by all means.
The woman presses us flush together from knee to shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to step away. I don’t wish for her hands to leave my body as soon as possible, don’t feel a yank in my stomach to heave up its contents. I’ve snuck into clubs, pushed women up against locked bathroom stalls, even gone so far as to rent hotel rooms. But it was always under cover of shadows and poorly concocted pseudonyms. Never in the open as Zarina Gallo.
The DJ switches the song, and my partner quickens their rhythm. Their breasts press against my back. Their hands trace my arms up to my shoulders. I grind closer and entertain the thought of kissing them on the dance floor where anyone in the club could see. It’d be a first. It’d be a reclaiming of myself.
And then they disappear.
I stagger backward as the anchor of their hips leaves me unmoored in the sea of bodies. They left me. My lip hitches in a growl, offense and annoyance burning my cheeks. And then a new hand grips my elbow and slides up my forearm. I turn, frowning, and am stopped by lips at my ear.
“Dance with me, princess?”
And even though I only heard the voice for the first time tonight, only met its owner once, I recognize immediately who it belongs to: Andrea Tamayo.
Goose bumps pebble across my skin as she bands my arm across my waist and pulls me into her orbit until we’re dancing flush together to a slow, sensual beat that ignores the manic build of the house music. The fingers of her free hand trail up my thigh, catching the hem of my dress in their wake before they trail across my hip, over my arm, under my chin.
“Enjoying the Den?” Her breath is hot on my ear, her nose a hair’s breadth from brushing my temple.
I tense every muscle inside me to halt the shudder her voice threatens to release. There’s no way I’m about to show how much she affects me after practically begging her— on my knees —to be my fake fiancée. Especially not when she hasn’t yet accepted my offer. I release each limb, each finger and toe, until my body feels as loose as water in a storm.
“I think you are.” Her nails trace the line of the teardrop ruby resting against my sternum. “I think you hate how much you love it here.”
“And why’s that?” My mouth runs without my permission.
Tamayo tucks my hair behind my ear so her lips can graze against its shell. Goose bumps I can’t stop race down my neck. “You’re free here.”
I twist in her arms, and she lets me, her hands falling to my hips as I clasp mine behind her neck. My lips brush against her ear, and I think her fingers twitch tighter, her knee slipping between my legs. I scrape my thumb up the short hairs at the back of her neck. “Free for now.”
Tamayo pulls us to a halt, the two of us pressed chest-to-chest in a swath of writhing bodies rising and falling to the beat. She straightens until she’s holding my gaze, her hands tight, her jaw stern. The mole under her left eye draws my attention, small and brown and beautiful on her high cheek.
Tamayo curls her fingers under my chin, gentle but firm. “You have three months to take it for good.”
My breath catches in my chest, stuck between an inhale and exhale. “Does that mean you accept?”
Her thumb strokes my bottom lip, the nail scraping over the sensitive skin. I lick my lips and raise my chin. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. She leans in, breath caressing over my cheek, and my eyes close of their own accord.
“A million times yes, princess.” Her voice tickles my ear.
And then Tamayo steps back.
Her touch leaves me, my body scorched where the heat of her kissed it. My clasped hands behind her neck break apart and fall to my sides as my jaw clacks shut before I can let out a huff. She stands with lazy confidence, black hair hanging in her eyes and suspender buckles shining in the black light. Annoyingly unruffled.
“As my fiancée, I think it’s time you went home.” Tamayo looks over my shoulder and nods to someone behind me. I fuel as much disdain into my glare as my short frame can hold, but she doesn’t react. “Can’t have you dancing with other people.”
“Maybe I’d like to make you jealous.”
She grins wider. “You shouldn’t.”
I can feel the hulking presence of Darius behind me, ready to effectively strong-arm me out of the club at Tamayo’s signal. Pat materializes at my shoulder with a soft rustle of their jacket against my elbow. The crowd gives us a wide berth, an island of stillness in an ocean of movement.
I cross my arms. “And what about you?”
“I have a club to run.” She stuffs her hands in her pockets.
“You have people for that.”
“Be a good fiancée, hm?” Tamayo’s eyes are shining with something like mischief, and despite knowing she’s pressing my buttons on purpose, anger churns inside me. “Wait for me at home while I take care of business.”
I raise my chin. “And if I choose to stay?”
Tamayo remains so very unruffled that I get the same urge I had upstairs to wipe the expression off her face, to do anything to force a reaction. “Then I cannot protect you when you choose to go. My people are available now or not at all. It’s up to you.”
Except it’s not an actual choice. Not really. Not when my parents or the Accardis will find me without Tamayo’s shield to keep my presence hidden until I’m tucked away safe.
And she knows that.
I shake out my hair and close the space she put between us with steps as slow as the beat she danced to with me. She follows me, eyes sharp and teeth sharper. I rest my hand on her chest, just above her heart. Our skin touches where her shirt lies open, and it sears my palm.
I rise on my toes and speak into her ear. “You’re my fiancée now, too. Don’t forget whose power you’re trading on, Tamayo.” I press my lips to the mole below her eye and scratch my nails across her collarbone as I stride away. “Keep your hands to yourself or lose them, hm?”