Chapter 33 Tamayo
TAMAYO
My stomach is a pit of snakes, hissing and snapping and writhing.
Angie texted when they left the Gallo estate half an hour ago and then when they crossed the perimeter into our territory, confirming they met no problems along the way.
I should feel relief. I should feel a smug rush of power that the Accardis wouldn’t dare move on my family, even as they protect Zarina Gallo.
But all I feel is anxiety.
The crown, the note, the calling in of the favor, it was a high-risk gamble. Zarina could have easily refused the gift, ignored the note, shunned my poorly disguised invitation. I wouldn’t hold it against her—a fact she likely knows.
The sound of the garage door rolling up echoes through the house.
I push off the chair, wiping my palms on my pants and shoving them in my pockets to stop from fidgeting.
The living room is lit with candles, the coffee table taken out to leave open space.
I thought about rose petals, but it felt too presumptuous.
Zarina is as likely to throw the crown I gifted her in my face as she is to hear me out.
And in moments, she’ll have the chance to do either.
I have no idea which Zarina will walk in here.
The mafia princess with an angry mouth, the savvy gangster boss who took her throne by blade and blood, or the woman who asked for a hug before she faced the father who betrayed her. I hope it’s all three.
Because all three make up Zarina Gallo, the woman I love.
Heels click across the floor. I straighten, keep my shoulders loose despite the tension gripping me tight. My fingers brush the rings in my pocket, the rubies scraping against my skin. I close my fist around them.
Fuck, I hope this goes well.
Zarina rounds the corner, stepping through the archway in the exact same gold dress she wore when I knelt before her in Saint Christopher’s and asked her to fake marry me. Her hair falls in soft waves, lips painted red. And atop her head, glinting in the candlelight, sits the crown I gifted her.
My queen.
She stops, taking in the room lit with too many candles and me, somehow both over and underdressed before her. “What’s all this?”
I don’t answer at first, not sure how to say all the things bubbling over my tongue. “You liked my gift, then?”
Zarina touches the crown where it sits on her head, like the mention of it reminded her of its presence. “It’s ostentatious.”
I duck my head. She doesn’t like it.
“And unnecessary.” Her voice softens.
The change brings my head back up, hopeful.
She smiles softly. “And I love it.”
Relief soothes my shoulders. “Good.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“You’re welcome, princess.” I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. Any other name for her feels wrong in my mouth, tripping and twisting the vowels into knots. She might be a queen, might be a gangster now rather than heir to a Cardinal Family, but she’s a princess to me. Always.
She scowls down her nose at me but doesn’t correct me.
I take it as a small victory as I drink up her presence.
The candlelight flickers up her legs, gilding her skin.
She looks so different than the last time I saw her, covered in blood with her enemy held at gun- and knifepoint.
An avenging angel clad in a fluffy robe.
Now she stands wrapped in gold from head to toe, dripping in rubies. All I can think is that she truly has ascended to queen. And I’d gladly bow at her feet.
“You never answered my question.” Zarina breaks the too long quiet between us.
I force my hands out of my pockets to hang empty and open at my sides. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right. The way she deserves. “All this is an apology.”
“It looks like a proposal.” She takes in the forty-eight candles I lit myself, the rearrangement of the living room, the two glasses next to the bottle of champagne on ice waiting in the corner.
Probably good I forwent the flowers, then.
“Zarina.” I clear my throat and shift my feet. “I failed you in so many ways—”
She steps forward, reaching for me as if to grab my arm and stop me. “Tamayo—”
“Let me say this.” I hold her eyes, the gold flecks in them somehow brighter in the lowlight.
She takes a deep breath, clasps her hands together, and nods for me to continue.
I lick my lips, trying to organize the words into something coherent instead of the cascading garble of syllables currently stuck in my throat.
“I failed you,” I start. “In ways that have nothing to do with our agreement. We started as unlikely allies, a business deal that erred on the side of personal. And then, living with you, learning you, watching you…”
Emotion burns the back of my eyes, and I try to blink past it. All the ways Zarina surprised me, showed me who she is and what she values, scroll through my head. Each one reminds me how much I fucked up. How much I failed.
And how much rides on this moment.
I continue, “I fell back on the deal, because it allowed me to absolve myself of my responsibility in all this. It allowed me to ignore my feelings and the honesty those feelings required of me.”
“What feelings?” Her voice is barely audible.
“Darius knew the night you showed up at the Den.” A half-grin crooks up the corner of my mouth for the space of a breath before it falls again.
I frown at her, appalled at my past actions toward the woman I love.
“I think I got my first inkling, though I didn’t want to admit it, the night you held a knife to my throat on the way to Casa Nostra. ”
Zarina snorts as I recall the moment I slid into the car and she rested her knife against my jugular.
I had spent the week convincing myself and Darius that only lust and respect lay between Zarina and me.
But I caved too easily, let her come to Casa Nostra without much of a fight.
If I didn’t want her there, I would have stopped her. And I didn’t.
“Before I say it,” I continue, “I need to apologize. You were forced to give up so much—of yourself, of your power—to hold on to your freedom. I should have helped. I should have done something, even if it meant sacrifice.”
Zarina’s eyes shine, and the sight drills a hole through my ribs, directly into my heart. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Zarina.” I infuse sincerity into the shape of each letter. “Truly.”
She blinks, like she’s trying to clear the tears before they can fall. The urge to go to her, to comfort her, rises so acutely I almost give into it. But I promised myself she’d set the pace, the tone, and I don’t want to shade my next words with anything other than the blunt intent of them.
“And it’s worse, I think.” I squeeze my hands into fists and release them along with the need to control the outcome of all this. It doesn’t work very well. “Because I love you.”
Zarina’s breath hitches, her face wide open.
“And if I love you,” I whisper, “then how could I fail you so spectacularly? How could I stand by and let you face so much alone?” Shame and guilt overtake me, my gaze dropping to the floor. “And how could you ever forgive me for it?”
My confession hangs between us, waiting for Zarina’s reaction. Right now, it’s neither an exploding bomb nor a calming salve. It just is. And the ambiguity is killing me, though I refuse to raise my eyes to meet hers for fear of what I’ll find there.
I don’t expect a return in sentiment. More than anything, I expect her to sneer at me, to snap that there’s no way she can forgive all I’ve done.
On my worst days, I replay her words in my head, and I believe them.
You’re just the same—no, you’re worse. Worse than the men who sold her, trapped her, used her.
Worse than the system that invalidates and erases us. Worse than all of it.
She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right, either. And I hope to god she lets me prove it.
“What is the favor that you’re asking of me?” Zarina’s voice is hesitant, like my answer to this question matters more than I realize.
I frown, raising my eyes to hers. “Your presence here tonight.” She didn’t even owe me anything, deal or no deal. “I demand nothing else from you.”
“You could have asked for anything,” she murmurs.
I shake my head. “I don’t want anything else.”
“Because you love me.” The words fall slowly, carefully.
“Yes.”
“You love me.”
“Yes.” I’ll say it over and over, as many times as she’ll allow me. As many times as she requires of me. “To be clear, I don’t expect you to return the feeling.”
“And if I don’t?” she asks.
“My next question remains the same.”
“You have another question?” Her hands are still clasped tight together, her voice still soft and uncertain. I nod in answer, and she takes a bracing breath. “Go ahead, then.”
I suck in my own bracing breath, and my echo of her action releases a flood of fondness into my chest. Which helps me say my next words. “Would you do me the honor of dating me? Let me prove my feelings, right my mistakes, treat you the way you deserve.”
“You want to demote me from fiancée to girlfriend?” she pouts.
The fondness bubbles to overflowing, and I can’t help the eye-crinkling smile that spreads across my face. Zarina fights one of her own, the tension crumbling at the edges with her cheeky reply. She’s always so good at that.
I hold her eyes. “Either way, you’ll be my queen.”
“Smooth,” she teases.
But she doesn’t answer yes or no. We breathe in the seconds, Zarina’s face falling back into a frown as her eyes focus past me. Her brain is working overtime, and I wish I could see what’s going on. I want to ask, press for an answer. But I know it will only hinder.
Her gaze finds mine again. “You said you didn’t know how I could ever forgive you?”
I nod, noting this isn’t an answer, but willing to ride her train of thought.
“I think…” She swallows. “It sounds crazy, but I think I’m halfway there already. The way you’ve shown up for me, for my family, without expectation of recompense these last weeks. That you stormed into my house to save me—”
“Should’ve known you’d have it covered,” I mutter.
Her red lips stretch into a wry grin. “And that, too. That you don’t discount me, my ability, my instincts.
” She finally releases her hands, half-moon marks dug into the skin like she was holding them too tight.
“And the pain of it all. It wouldn’t have hurt so much, the betrayal, if I didn’t care. ”
“I’m so sorry—”
But she holds up a hand to stop me, and I snap my mouth shut. “It took almost losing everything for me to set aside my own ego and sign over those properties to you,” she says. “Will you be able to do the same? To forsake your pride to protect me, to love me?”
I chance a step forward. The gap between us is the smallest it’s been since she walked out of this house over a month ago. I try to wrangle in the hope unfurling inside me, but it’s slippery in my hands. “I’d like the chance to show you I will.”
Zarina mirrors my step forward, and then there’s no longer feet between us, but inches. Something inside me untangles from the knot it was twisted into, and the release shudders through my body. She raises her hand, and despite how slowly it comes to rest on my shoulder, it’s steady and sure.
Zarina sighs, like us finally touching has loosened something in her, too. “I think I’d like to give you that chance.”
I drop my head forward until my nose brushes hers, my hands finding their home on her hips. “Can I kiss you?”
Zarina’s hand grasps my neck, her fingers playing with the hair she so loves. Her breath fans across my chin. “Please.”
I drop my mouth to hers, and after weeks apart, the purgatory that’s been roaring inside me, demanding blood and violence, finally falls to background noise. I dig my grip into her hips, suck in her lip, and bask in the moment I never thought would come again. Zarina here, with me, kissing me.
She pulls back, finger brushing under my eye as she leans her forehead against mine. “I missed you.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” I press in again, capturing her lips like I might starve without another kiss. “It’s not gonna be easy. The Accardis aren’t finished with you, with us.”
“I know.” She tucks herself into the crook of my neck, and I almost melt to the floor right then and there.
Instead, I close my arms around her back. “And while the lines might have been re-drawn, the Cardinal Families are nowhere near confident in me or you.”
“Obstinate old men,” she sniffs.
“Are you sure this is worth it?” That I’m worth it.
She leans back to meet my gaze, hands on my chest as she pins me with a serious look. “I’m no longer willing to pass up any chances at being happy. And I think you can make me happy.”
The smile that splits my face is as forceful as the love churning inside me. “I’ll spend whatever time you give me doing exactly that, princess.”
She arches a brow, teasing. “I thought I was your queen.”
“Somehow, you’re both.”
She sighs dramatically. “I guess I’ll tolerate it.”
“As if you don’t adore it.” I trail my hands up her spine, into her hair falling softly down her back.
She presses a finger to my lips as her eyes crinkle with the force of her smile. “Hush, I’m kissing my girlfriend.”