16. Tamayo
TAMAYO
I ’m drinking a vodka Collins again. Orange prickles across my tastebuds, but despite its tang, despite the heavy pour, it’s not enough to burn away the memory of Zarina’s cum sitting heavy on my tongue. Even multiple mouthwashes haven’t erased the taste of her. All I can think about now is giving in to the overwhelming urge to capture her lips in mine the next time I see her.
Kissing is not a good idea.
Hell, the Gallo princess coming on my thigh like it was a goddamn throne made for her pleasure was not a good idea, either. Not when I can’t get the taste of her out of my mouth, the smell of her off my fingers. I let a sip of my drink sit on my tongue, trying to burn away the memory of her.
A knock sounds on the office door. I call for them to come in, and Darius steps inside. He arches a brow as if drinking before Sunday mass is somehow more condemnable than all the other sins we commit. I scowl at him and take another gulp out of spite.
“We need to increase security around the shelter. Rita will hate it, but she’ll get over it.” I don’t turn to face him as I speak. “ Same with the Den. Tell Angie to suck my left big toe if she complains.”
“Both are already done.” He lowers himself into one of the comfy chairs in front of my desk as I mumble thanks.
“We need to discuss Casa Nostra later, too. And the properties in Gachico.”
He hums in affirmation, staring at me.
I frown at him. “What?”
“Are we just not gonna talk about it?” he asks.
“About what?” I turn back to the window, because I know perfectly well what he means.
Apparently, he’s out of patience anyway. “About you fucking the Gallo princess in the back of the car.”
“Jesus.” I fumble my glass and almost drop it.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t think he has anything to do with it.”
I set my drink on the desk, rolling my eyes and swiveling around to face him. He spills out of the chair, all limbs and muscles, and tamps down on the teasing smile threatening to form on his lips. I wipe vodka Collins off my hand on my very expensive trousers. “We didn’t fuck.”
He snorts. “Semantics.”
I rest my chin on my palm, fingers on my cheek, and breathe in. Nope—they still smell like her. Like she came on them moments ago and not on the other side of a layer of fabric a night ago. I grind my teeth. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”
The amusement coloring Darius’s expression sloughs away. “And if it brings us to the edge of implosion?”
“Don’t worry.” I wave him off. “It didn’t mean anything.” And it won’t. Not with both of us using the other, whether it’s to forget the pain caused by our parents or protection or power. Feelings have no place between us. But fuck if I wish clothes had no place between us, too.
“Not yet,” Darius mutters .
I raise my glass with a shake of my head. “Ye of little faith.”
“Me of vast experience and observation.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and stares at me with that stupid, blank face he wears when he’s worried because he doesn’t want me to know that he’s worried but is unwittingly blaring loud and clear that he is, in fact, worried . I sip my drink and wait. Because there’s no making Darius say it, there’s only giving him space to.
His brows scrunch. “Andy.”
“Darius,” I mimic his serious tone.
He groans, falling back further in his chair. “How does this bring us closer to the goal? The fake engagement, the fucking, the stupid business deal—it’s all window-dressing.”
“I’m not explaining it again,” I sigh. “You were there.”
“And I still don’t get it.” He spreads his arms as if to encompass the lack of logic filling the room, his navy suit stretched to its limit across his chest and arms. “Get the princess out of town and take the meeting with Falcone.”
I set my glass down too hard. Despite being mostly empty save for the ball of ice and the orange twist, liquid spatters over the desk. “Do you think we’d have this invitation without her? Do you think Jimmy Falcone would even speak to me if I wasn’t engaged to Zarina fucking Gallo?” I rein in the glare I want to aim at Darius—this isn’t about him. It’s about the futility of years of plotting and battling my way to this exact moment, only to have the daughter of the family I swore to tear asunder, brick by brick, be the reason I finally achieve it. And worse, it’s about the way that same woman has sunk into my skin like a goddamn perfume, no soap strong enough to erase her.
I scrape my hands over my face and let them drop to the arm rests. “Don’t be purposefully dense. Zarina was right—her family name, as much as I fucking hate it, brings us respect. The most we could have expected from Antoni’s idiocy was a meeting with another capo, not with the don.”
Darius wrinkles his nose. “You don’t know that. ”
“It’s what I would have done.” I slump back and stare at the ice melting in my tumbler, wishing it was full again so I could gulp it down. I push out of my chair and grab the belt and waistcoat I hung up earlier, unwilling to be so restricted while I pouted into my drink.
Darius crosses his arms. “There’s nothing keeping her here or from crossing us.”
I yank on the deep-violet waistcoat over my collared shirt. “Except the threat of a forced marriage to a savage prick?”
He scoffs like that’s not so big a deal as to make Zarina run away from home and strike a deal with a gangster she’d never met. I want to smack him upside the head. But he speaks before I can reach him. “And after all this is over?”
He means after Zarina is gone.
I clamp my mouth shut, eyes on my fingers buttoning my waistcoat. When the Accardis and their cruel son are no longer a threat, Zarina will leave. With less territory and more information on the Tamayo Family. Which means Darius isn’t wrong—she has no reason to stay, to keep our secrets—and that’s infuriating. Even more so because I don’t have a back-pocket solution that will solve this problem. And that’s unacceptable.
I push it down into the well of my brain where it can steep longer in the muck until a solution will rise fully formed. “A lot can happen between now and then.”
“That’s what worries me,” he sighs.
I button my cuffs. “Not much we can do about it now.”
“You could not fuck her and make her hate you?” he snaps.
My hands pause, and I turn to study him fully. He fidgets with the ring on his right pointer, twirling the diamond around and around. He watches his fingers, eyes unfocused and brows furrowed.
I speak softly. “Not all relationships end in heartbreak, Darius.”
His shoulders bunch as if bracing for impact. He forcibly relaxes them, his hands falling to his lap and his face fumbling for unaffected nonchalance. “So it’s a relationship now?”
I let him change the subject and pull my jacket off its hanger. “Didn’t you hear? She’s my fiancée.”
He groans, his head rolling back on his chair. “You know what I mean!”
“You’re a worrywart,” I tease as if I’m not at all.
“Yeah, I’m fucking worried!” He shoves to standing and crowds in front of me. “I’m worried Zarina will fuck us over, and I’m worried your need for revenge will push this too far, and I’m really fucking worried that you’re not worried at all!”
I stuff my hands in my pockets and stare at him with all the anger of a woman willing to murder and steal and deal her way from broken in a back alley to the inner sanctum of Louredo’s crime families. I didn’t get here by being an idiot, by miscalculating. Darius knows that. He’s been with me since before the beginning. My best friend, my right hand.
And sometimes he thinks that allows him certain privileges. Like insulting me.
“It sounds like”—my voice rumbles through my chest—“you think I’m being careless and stupid.”
Darius has the good sense to back the fuck up. “Andy?—”
“The goal is the same as it’s always been, Darius.” I prowl forward as he stands completely still, muscles tense. “Whatever it takes to become a don, to become a family with a seat at the goddamn table, to protect our people and give them a piece of the pie. We will use Zarina Gallo as a stepping stone to more territory, more power, more respect.” I roll my shoulders back, breathing through my nose and dialing down the simmering boil in my gut. “We’re already set to make good on respect, now it’s about garnering the other two. I can’t do it alone—I need Zarina.”
Darius takes my jacket from where it’s tucked between my arm and hip, shaking it out and holding it open for me. An olive branch, which I accept. I thread my arms through, and he smooths down the sleeves as I adjust my wrist cuffs.
His hands fall away. “And the revenge?”
My knee twinges at the mention. “What’s more demeaning than watching your only daughter and appointed heir defy your orders, run away from home, and marry the head of a gang so far beneath Zarina’s station that her parents are threatening to stop the wedding before it can ruin their reputation?”
“I know you, Andy. That’s not enough.”
“No, it’s not.” I grab my handgun, double-checking the safety before slipping it in my waistband. “They left me broken. I plan to do the same.”
“How?” he asks.
“Mine Zarina for every bit of affluence I can while ruining her for anyone else, especially anyone considered powerful enough for the Gallo name. She’ll always be my castoff, always be the weak, spoiled princess who couldn’t close a simple deal with Louredo’s only lesbian gangster.” And by the time this engagement is over, that will be true. We’ll be more than a gang. We’ll own a true piece of this city and keep growing, swallowing up streets and buildings until we’re as fat and powerful as the Cardinal Families sitting at the top of their towers not noticing the foundations are rotting beneath them. Not noticing I’m eroding them like water, slow and steady. “The shame of her failure will infect the Gallo Family, hanging them by a noose of their own making. Even the Accardis will refuse to deal with them.”
Darius snorts. “You’re an idiot.”
“What?” I whip around to look at him.
He shakes his head with amusement. “You really believe you’ll be able to use her and leave her?”
“I’ll do what’s best for the family,” I snap.
He sucks in a long-suffering breath. “Idiot.”
“Don’t make me shoot you,” I growl .
Darius giggles—actually giggles. “I’m upping my bet.” He grabs a pen and sticky note off the desk and writes it out. “A grand says this implodes before we see a foot of territory.”
I smack his hand away with a scowl. “I’ll do it. You’ll see.”
He crosses out the number to write a new one. “Five grand.”
“Get out.” I stomp over and yank open the door.
“Don’t spend my money.” He tucks the paper into my breast pocket, and I catch his wrist, twisting it back, but he breaks my hold easily.
“Out.”
He pulls down his sleeve. “I got my eye on this watch at Cartier?—”
I kick at his ankles until he dances into the hall to evade me. He’s laughing as I shut the door behind us, turning the key to lock the deadbolt and shaking my head. “Moving on .” I punch his kidney without much force. “Casa Nostra.”
We walk down the hall past the bedroom doors to the top of the stairs, and I have to work to stop my gaze from drifting to Zarina’s door, my mind from wondering what she’s doing, where she’s at, how she is.
Do you want more?
I don’t know.
“When do we infiltrate the devil’s lair?” Darius rests his hand on the banister as he descends the stairs.
I stretch my jaw. “Wednesday.”