“Sit,” Rosie commands, but I hesitate. “Sit. If I wanted you dead, you already would be.”
“I know.” As much as it pains me, she’s right. She could have killed me multiple times over the last ten years. She could have killed me the night of the raid on her house or last week at the gala. I, unlike her, was someone of a sitting duck with my public persona and my active roles in Newtown. All it would take was a well-timed bomb, a talented sniper or a staged mugging gone wrong. If I wasn’t at the top of her list, and if she wasn’t so desperate to get her hands on me herself, I would already be six feet under and she’d be sitting on top of my grave, on her throne, wearing the crown she’d stolen from me.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I take the seat opposite her. Sliding the glass of wine she poured closer, I ran my thumb up and down the stem as I tried to weigh out my options.
She flashes me another dangerous smile. “Exactly, so why play games?”
Despite my earlier resolution to not drink too much too quickly, I swallow the wine in two large gulps. I assume that it must be safe, since she’s drinking it too. “I thought this was all just a big game to you?”
She shrugs, as she stands. “No. It’s about revenge. It’s about reparations.”
“So, you aren’t enjoying yourself?” I scoff, with a frown as she reaches across me to pour another drink. Rosie took too much pride in her ‘gifts’, in the carcasses she left behind for it to be solely about revenge.
Placing the bottle down she moves away but I grab her wrist and hold her in place, leaning close to her. Her skin is soft and warm beneath my hand, and there it is again, cherries and cinnamon. She watches me carefully, and this close I can see the flecks of gold and grey in her eyes, the thick long lashes framing her larger eyes, the steady swipe of eyeliner on her eyelid. She’s a carefully constructed honey trap, and my mouth goes dry as I wonder about how that would taste in the moments before the inevitable betrayal.
“I enjoy getting a rise out of you,” she whispers, angling closer until her words skim against the shell of my ear. “But I wouldn’t exactly describe my gifts as fun…”
“Then stop.”
She chuckles softly, her breath tickling the skin on my neck and I swallow a groan. “I will, when everyone has paid their debt.”
“When I’m dead then,” I say calmer than I feel. It’s not like I didn’t know what awaited me. I’ve known it every day for the last ten years. I’ve lived with that knowledge, carried it around like a rock in my pocket, trying to ignore the way it weighed me down. “I’m your end goal Rosie, let’s not pretend otherwise.”
“I’m saving you for last. I want to savor every moment. Every touch. Every scream.” With the last word, Rosie nips my earlobe and I resist the urge to lean into her despite her track record with my appendages. The scar on my hand tingles as I tighten my grip on her wrist. Why did she make death sound positively carnal? “You are mine.”
“I know,” I murmur. I have always known it. It’s the reason I can’t kill her. The reason I wait, and watch. I tell myself it’s because I’m a fair leader and I want to give her the chance to repent, to return to The Family but somewhere deep down I know it’s because the more I learn about Rosie Gambino, the more I want. The more she intrigues me. “Both of our lives changed that night.”
“You became a Prince, Julian. Then you became a King. Don’t act like you know what I went through.” There’s an edge to her voice, and I know I’ve hit a soft spot. If I put pressure on it, she’ll cut my throat without even blinking, plan be damned. Everything else is fun and games, but not the bitterness lurking beneath the surface.
Needing to deescalate the anger I can feel festering, I pull her a little closer so we’re practically cheek to cheek. “You were always supposed to be mine.”
“I was supposed to be a Queen.” The words sound hollow, and it takes me straight back to that night. To the girl in the pretty dress, sitting on the bench looking lost. To the star-gazers who knew nothing about the real world and what waited for them. “Nothing else mattered. Our marriage was an unwanted side effect.”
“It didn’t need to be. We could have been partners.” I trace small lazy circles on the inside of the wrist, offering her comfort, reassuring her that there doesn’t have to be bloodshed between us.
The corner of her mouth tugs up into a slow smile and I flinch. It’s cruel. It’s another mask, a wall she’s putting up to keep me out. “I’ve always been aware of my place, Julian. And it was never under you.”
Except it could be. And on top. And beside me.
What was I doing? I need to stop her, not fuck her.
“Empty. That was your life Rosie, you said it yourself,” I remind her gently, trying to reach the young girl I know is still buried deep down inside. “And now?”
She flicks her tongue over my skin, making me shiver. “Angry.”