Marcella met her mother’s gaze and something only women understand seemed to pass between them because Aria touched Luca’s arm and after a few whispered words, they all disappeared into the living room, giving Marcella and me privacy.
Marcella began to descend the stairs, her eyes locked on mine.
I shook my head as if trying to wake from a dream, and her smile widened as if she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
I walked toward her when she reached the last step, impatient to be close to her.
“They won’t know what hit them when they see you,” I told her, kissing her, not caring if I got lipstick all over my mouth. “You are absolutely breathtaking, Snow White. Sometimes I still wait for the moment I wake from this dream and you turn out to be a figment of my imagination.”
“I’m very real, now more than ever.”
“You are still perfect in every sense that matters. The marks don’t change you.”
“Oh, but they have,” she said.
“They only made you stronger.”
“I guess we’ll see today, right?”
“Today won’t be easy for you, I know. People will watch your every step and your decision to take me with you only makes things harder for you.” I’d seen the headlines from the tabloids in the last few days. All of them had speculated about Marcella’s first appearance and her mental state, some even speculating that she was suicidal or had a social phobia from trauma.
She smiled grimly. “They want to see me cower. They want me ashamed because of the video, ashamed for my ear and tattoo. They have been waiting too long for that moment to come.”
She was her father’s daughter, with a backbone of steel and endless pride. She was a queen who didn’t need a crown to rule, but it was all the more fitting that she’d crowned herself by destroying the last sign of my uncle that remained.
“And they’ll have to wait another lifetime,” I growled.
Marcella nodded. She was trying to hide the hint of anxiety in her eyes. Social events had been her territory, a place she felt perfectly at home, her turf over which she’d ruled for years. Now she needed to prove herself again and maybe for the first time in her life, she feared she wouldn’t prevail.
I cleared my throat and pulled out the earpiece I’d bought for Marcella. I hadn’t even thought of wrapping it up nicely, instead I now had to present the piece of jewelry in my palm. “I know this probably isn’t worth half as much as the earpiece you’re wearing right now, but when I saw it, I had to buy it for you because like this phoenix you’ll rise from the ashes and burn all the haters.”
Marcella’s eyes widened as she regarded the phoenix ear cuff. She removed the diamond piece from her ear and put my present on. The tail of the phoenix curled over the place where her earlobe should have been and the rest of the creature snaked along her ear and it reared its head at the top. The tail and the wings were adorned with red gemstones while the rest of the creature had jade, topaz, and onyx gemstones all over its body and head. It had cost me most of what had been left of the money I’d found but seeing the look of awe on Marcella’s face as she admired herself in the mirror above the fireplace in the foyer was worth so much more than all the money in the world.
She swallowed as she met my gaze in the mirror. “Thank you.”
I nodded, overcome with unwelcome emotions. “Let’s go burn some haters.”
“Will you ride with me?” she asked. I usually took my bike and rode ahead to make sure the roads were safe. I’d never sat in the car beside her.
“Of course,” I said, squeezing her hand. “I’m at your side. And if you need me to kick some fancy lady’s fat ass, I’ll do it too.”
A grin flitted across her face, banishing her anxiety for a moment. “I wish you could. I wish it worked that way, but this is a fight that can’t be won with violence.”
“I’m fairly sure you’re wrong. There isn’t a fight that can’t be won with violence.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s why you should get along with Amo, Matteo, and Dad. You all love violence too much.”
She was right, but unfortunately, we’d spent years being violent to each other. That made the bonding experience a bit difficult. Luca fucking Vitiello and I grudgingly got along right now. Whenever he and I ran across each other at meetings of the Enforcers, he treated me like he didn’t hate me quite as much as he used to, which was a step in the right direction I supposed.
My own feelings toward the man were still far from gentle either, but I didn’t always feel murderous around him anymore, so that was good. He didn’t trust me yet, nor did I trust him, but we worked together and we tolerated each other because of Marcella. Did she even realize how much power she held in her perfectly manicured fingers?