SWNOVELS His Queen: Chapter 13
“He’s hiding her.”
“Of course he is.” I watch as Caelian lights a cigarette. The flame springs up, and a soft hiss escapes the burning tobacco. The smoke is thick and pungent, curling up lazily in the air as it trickles from the corners of his mouth.
Caelian sits back in the chair, clutching the cigarette between two fingers. “Vera knows the rules, the consequences of her betrayal. If Nunzio wants to keep her, he knows he needs to hide her.”
All the girls know that once they become the property of the Dark Sovereign, there’s no leaving. The moment they accept our offer of security and protection along with a life where they want for nothing, there is no going back. There is no trading this life for another, which is made clear to them before making any decision. Living under our roof and in our world exposes them to inside intel. They know how we do business, and they hear the discussions of many. A betrayal by them means we risk having our trade secrets land in the hands of others—like Nunzio Ferrero. And with his intentions of starting his own adult clubs around town, we already know what damage he could do with the info Vera feeds him.
“I’m not surprised that Vera pulled this shit.” Caelian leans forward to tip his ash into the ceramic ashtray. “She always had a thing for you and Alexius. The Del Rossa twins with unicorn dicks.”
“Whatever, man.”
“I’m serious. Vera’s been sulking ever since you two decided to take the moral high ground by giving your dick exclusively to your wives. Why do you think I stopped fucking her?”
I roll my eyes. “Do tell.”
“Because I was getting sick of hearing, ‘Will your brothers be joining us? When are we doing a Del Rossa gangbang again? Oh, please tell the twins to come wreck my pussy.’” He mimics a whiny feminine voice that’s more like nails on a chalkboard. “I was getting sick of it, so I stopped fucking her, too. And Isaia never really had a thing for her.”
“Isaia’s never had a thing for anyone besides Leandra.”
“I’m telling you, Vera’s sudden insanity is due to withdrawal from her Del Rossa cock addiction.”
I snort a laugh. “It’s a possibility. But whatever her reason for leaving, she has to be taken care of. We can’t afford a wild card like her to be out there spitting out information about us. There’s no way to be sure what she knows, what gossip has been making its rounds.”
Caelian’s expression hardens. “I agree. But if we’re right, and Winslow is working for Nunzio, that means he has Vera, and he’ll be hiding her where we won’t be able to find her—at least until he no longer has a use for her.”
“He’ll kill her when she’s told him everything she knows.” I shrug. “It’s what I would have done. She betrayed the family who cared for her for years, giving her everything she needed. She can’t be trusted, which means there’s not a chance in hell he’ll keep her alive.” I intently study Caelian as I say, “He’ll probably use her as bait at one of those primal hunting parties he hosts.”
“He’ll probably make her a target to one of those psychotic motherfuckers who kills and then fucks.”
I place my elbows on my desk, pinning my gaze on him. “How come you never told us about these parties?”
He shrugs. “Why should I have? It’s not of importance to anyone in this family.”
“Nicoli Del Rossa!” Mira’s voice explodes down the halls like a motherfucking sonic boom. Even the hair on my arms raises with alarm.
Caelian lets out an amused laugh. “What did you do?”
I drag a palm down my face, groaning in response. “Murdered her childhood pony, by the sound of it.”
My office door flings open, revealing a red-faced Mirabella with green eyes that glow with angered flames that are two seconds away from burning me alive.
“You promised me, Del Rossa!” Her voice is pure venom. “You promised you’ll make it right.”
“Baby, what are you talking about?”
“You swore to me that if I backed out of the Carrington-Winslow wedding, you would fix everything you fucked up.”
“I did. Caelian, leave,” I snap when my brother’s grin spreads from ear to ear.
“Do I have to? I feel like shit’s about to go down, and I really want to see it happen.”
“Out!”
“Okay, okay.” He stomps out of my office, but not before flipping me off from behind Mirabella’s head.
“Fucker,” I yell, but Mira’s slamming of the door kills the echo.
“You promised.”
“What the hell is going on?”
Her cheeks are two shades lighter than the scarlet belted trench coat she’s wearing over a tight, black mini-dress and knee-high boots. Add the fire of hell all around her, and I have myself a wife I’m dying to fuck so I can feel her devil claws tear through my skin.
“I just got a call from a frantic bride who managed to slip in a few fucks between the multiple meltdowns she’s having because the florist delivered lavender roses instead of blush. You promised you’ll fix it, Nicoli!”
“And I did. The moment you agreed to drop the project, I ensured that everything was taken care of. The flowers, the dresses, the dessert, the flower girls.”
Mira’s expression freezes. “The flower girls? What about the flower girls? Did you kidnap them?”
“Jesus. No. What kind of man do you think I am?”
She narrows her eyes.
“No, Mira. I did not kidnap the flower girls. Don’t you think that would be front page news already if I had three girls kidnapped?”
Her curls bounce softly around her face as she strides toward me in those fuck-me boots. “I don’t know, Nicoli. You and your brothers seem to get away with just about everything. Don’t think I don’t know how far your influence stretches around this city.”
“Relax, would you? I did what I promised. Besides, why the hell is she phoning you? Does she not have a new wedding planner who can deal with this? It’s no longer your problem.”
“When it’s my husband who tried to sabotage her wedding, it has everything to do with me.”
I reach out to her cautiously, and she flinches at my touch. My hands slide along the fabric of her trench coat before they find her hips. I pull her toward me until our faces are close enough for me to feel her warm breath on my skin, her anger licking my flesh. “I didn’t sabotage anything,” I say softly. “I made it right just like I promised.”
“Well, clearly, you didn’t.”
“Mira.” I attempt to lean in for a kiss, but she thrusts her hands against my chest before I can make contact, widening the distance between us. Her eyes are hard, unyielding, and even more exquisite with embers of rage.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she growls.
“And what am I doing?”
“You’re trying to distract me from this by seducing me.”
My mouth twists into an ironic smile. “And it’s clearly not working.”
She takes a deep breath then steps into my personal space again. “I promised her that everything was in place for this wedding. I swore to her that I made all the arrangements and finalized everything for her, which is why she chose not to hire another wedding planner.” Her voice rises before falling at the end of the sentence.
“Okay,” I start, a flicker of impatience tingling along my tongue. “The fact that the wrong flowers were delivered now sounds like a her problem. Not an our problem. I told you I fixed everything I had a hand in, and I did. I have no reason to lie.”
“Fine.”
“What do you mean, fine?”
“It’s fine, Nicoli. I’m done arguing about this.”
Words have never scared me more.
Mira takes a step back and tugs on her coat as if trying to anchor herself amid the chaos of our conversation. “I’ll talk to you later.”
As she moves toward the door, ready to leave without another word exchanged between us, I catch her wrist and pull her close again.
“You’re still upset.” It isn’t a question but more of an observation. “I’m not letting you walk out there while you’re still upset.”
“Of course I’m upset. Not only did I drop this poor woman two weeks before her wedding to ensure my husband doesn’t fuck it up, but now it seems it was all for nothing.” She takes a step back and moves away from me, and I don’t like it. Not one little bit.
“I told you, I fixed—”
“I gave this all up, Nicoli. Something I was truly excited about. Something I really wanted to do, because you asked me to and gave me your word.”
“Which I kept,” I growl.
“Clearly, you didn’t,” she snaps.
“Why is this such a big deal for you?”
“Because I know what it’s like to dream about a big, romantic wedding that’s perfect in every goddamn way and then have it be the exact opposite!”
Her words slam into my chest harder than a speeding train.
Tears start to well up in the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t have the wedding I’ve always dreamed of. I didn’t have the dress, or the church, or the romantic Sunday afternoon reception. Instead, I had a last-minute bogus ceremony while wearing tights, with my hair in a hideous ponytail, a groom who looked completely miserable, on a night I almost got raped, and in front of a bribed priest!”
A single tear slips down her cheek, and with it, a heavy silence breaks out around us. The look in her eyes drops a weight of disquiet in my stomach. I’ve hurt her so many times in the past. The look of heartache and despair is something I can instantly recognize on her beautiful face. But what I’m seeing now is something different. Almost like the night we went to Nunzio’s club, when she stepped out on the front porch looking like sin on heels. It’s a fusion of profound sadness and dark defiance—a lethal mix of emotion I can’t stop.
Guilt washes over me as I watch her struggle to keep herself composed. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before—the pain and disappointment that hides beneath the layers of her beautiful exterior. By loving me, she’s been forced to give up so much, and being a part of this family taught her only one thing. To grin and bear it.
“Mira, I’m only going to say this one more time,” I start, trying to reach for her again, but she jerks out of reach. “I fixed everything just like I promised. The fact that the wrong flowers got delivered is not because of me, so I refuse to stand here and let you accuse me of something I’m not guilty of.” It’s only at the end of my sentence that I realize the stern tenor that suddenly erupted from my words.
“And I refuse to stand here and listen to my husband lie to me.” Mira’s gaze resolutely avoids mine as she opens the door, and I watch her retreat, feeling her anger like a fire that I can’t seem to put out. It’s like a dive into icy water, realizing my wife doesn’t trust me, that she thinks I wouldn’t keep my promise.
As the door closes behind her with a loud click, I take a deep breath and slowly exhale, letting my eyes drift shut. My mind starts racing—a million thoughts rushing through as if competing to be heard first. I have no idea what the fuck just happened, whether the devil just pissed all over my day or if he took a dump on my entire goddamn week. Who knows how long Mira is going to look at me like I’m the spawn of Satan.
I pull out my phone, speed-dialing Maximo.
“Nicoli,” he answers.
“You said you had the Carrington-Winslow wedding sorted.”
“And by sorted, you mean…?”
“You know what I mean. You had everything fixed?”
“Yeah. For sure.”
“The flowers, too?”
“Yes. Why? Do we have a problem?”
“Apparently, the wrong flowers got delivered this morning.”
“Mira, where are you going?” Maximo shouts in the background. “Get your ass back here.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, shutting my eyes. “What is my wife doing now?”
“Let me deal with her.”
“Maximo, she can’t—”
He hangs up.
“—leave,” I say, staring at my phone, unblinking. I already know what she’s doing, or rather…what she’s about to do. She’s about to go to that wedding.