Queen of Hearts

“Of course.” Elijah tosses his croissant back down onto the plate with a frustrated grunt, throwing his hand in the air with an eye roll. “Of course, he’s one of your supporters.”

Rosie sips from her mug and says nothing. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail today and I have to push away thoughts of wrapping her long blonde locks around my hand and dragging her onto the table and making her deep throat me while I stand at the head of the table. She takes another mouthful of her tea and my eyes follow the length of her throat as she swallows. God. How was she having this effect on me?

I look away, and that’s when I notice it isn’t just me staring at her. Elijah doesn’t look at her like he wants to fuck her, but he’s definitely not disinterested enough for my taste.

Leaning forward on his elbows, Eli asks, “Do you have a magical cunt? Is that what this is? Everyone just wants to fuck you and if they do, you own their soul?”

Rosie licks her lips as she reaches across the table for some pancakes. Winking at him, she teases, “Why sweetie, want a taste?”

They lock eyes and it’s like the room comes to a standstill as the tension crackles in the air. My Left Hand wasn’t used to being challenged and the Queen of Hearts was having too much fun taunting him.

She doesn’t cave, staring at him like he fascinates her. It was almost beautiful, the expression on her face, except I knew what was really going on in her head. In her mind she was weighing him up, dismantling him piece by piece like he was nothing more than a machine. An obstacle in her life. It was how her father raised her after all, I’d seen his notes on her training when his office had been ransacked in the aftermath. She wasn’t just a woman; she was a weapon.

She blows him a kiss and his lip curls in response. “You sure you don’t want to?”

Folding my newspaper, I slam it down on the table, relishing the way neither of them flinch, but they both tense. Trained killers wary of me, the arguably weakest player in the room. Good.

My irrational jealousy rears its ugly head as I grab her chin and force her to look at me. “Let’s not play with fire before lunchtime, Rosie.”

She flutters her eyelashes and sticks out her bottom lip, she was having fun baiting my man and I’d just put my foot down, ruining her entertainment for the morning. The cuteness she’s giving me is a mask, and I won’t entertain it. “Behave.”

She bows her head, submitting to me and that makes my dick hard, even though I know her submission is only temporary while she’s a guest in my home.

Eli grins, voice smug and satisfied. “Yeah, Rosie.”

Flipping him off before finishing off her tea, she retorts, “Only he can call me Rosie, asshole. It’s Rosalyn.”

Mimicking her tone, Elijah replies, “Only he can call me Asshole, Rosalyn.”

Rosie laughs, brandishing a knife as she spreads butter on a croissant. “I think we’re going to get on just fine Creed—when you pull that stick out of your ass.”

It’s only a butter knife, but Elijah had already seen the damage she could do with a poisoned hairpin and while he doesn’t shrink back, he does eye her warily. He doesn’t trust her, not in a million years and it shows because it’s making him nervous.

“I doubt it, Queen of Hearts,” he sneers at her, “Unlike Jules, I don’t play house with killer Queens.”

She shrugs, cheerily, ponytail swinging. “That’s because you’re a sore loser, who’s intimidated by my reputation.”

I watch them both with my brows raised, wondering what fucking alternative universe I’ve landed in this morning where sassy and sarcastic is the main meal of the day. Pulling my phone out of my waistcoat, I fire off a quick message to Anoushka Volkov. I have a favor to ask, and if she wants to keep me happy and ensure I invest in her family’s gun trade, she will be more than willing to help me out.

“I highly doubt that, I’ve probably killed more men than you’ve had cock.” Creed pulls two more pancakes from the stack onto his plate, trailing hot butter everywhere. “And I ain’t saying you’re a hoe, but I’m willing to bet you’ve had a lot of dick.”

I tense, waiting to see how she’ll react. She wanted to play this morning, and if you piss off the Left Hand, this is what you get. Creed isn’t like us, he doesn’t give a shit about manners or social graces. He does the dirty work because he enjoys not having to reign himself in.

Placing her mug down calmly, Rosie scowls at him. “Spit out the pancake, Creed. I don’t feed mouthy little boys who talk trash because they want to puff out their chests and play with the professionals. Spit. It. Out. Before I make you.”

“Nope.” Eli grins, wiping syrup from the corner of his mouth in a large exaggerated motion.

Before either of us can react, she lunges across the table and punches him square in the throat, forcing him to spit out his mouthful just so he can try and breathe.

As he slams his hands down on the table, face turning puce as he sucks in huge gulping breaths, she snags his whole plate away. “Naughty boys don’t get pancakes! Or croissants!”

When he’s finally in control of his own respiratory system, he waves his hand at her and glowers at me, as if to say ‘What the fuck is this madness? Make it go away!’

“Oh sit down, I did warn you.” She rolls her eyes as she crosses her arms.

“And that makes it okay?” he hisses, reaching out for the serving plate of pastries but she’s quicker, pushing it out of his reach before his fingertips can even brush the edge of the plate.

“How about a wager, Creed, slayer of many millions of men?” She chuckles to herself. “Starting today we keep a tally. The score gets calculated the next time we run into one another. Winner gets bragging rights; loser shuts the fuck up.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed into slits as he took his seat again. “You’re a forked tongue liar, how will I know if you’re telling the truth.”

Tilting her head, she looks young and innocent with her large blue eyes and oversized clothing. “You won’t.”

Grunting, Eli crosses his arms and mimics her pose. “Cheater and a fucking liar, that how you roll Rosalyn?”

“Take the wager and I’ll let you eat breakfast,” she says, tempting him by lifting the plate and giving it a little wiggle.

“Give it a rest, children,” I warn as I pour myself another coffee from the carafe brewed earlier. They both watch me, and it feels strange to have them sitting at my table so relaxed. Strange but not uncomfortable. Rosie pushes his plate back towards him in silence before returning to her mug of tea.

“So how are we doing this?” Eli asks as he carries on stuffing his face and takes a deep inhale of the meat Rosie’s slow roasting in the oven.

I don’t know why it surprised me, the last few days, to learn that Rosie was obsessed with baking and cooking. Her mother, although not of Italian descent, was very similar to The Family wives in the way she was very hospitable, always making sure everyone had a drink or enough to eat. The Welsh heritage meant she wasn’t shy with her measurements or portions either, and as I eye the pile of croissants still left, I wonder if I even own a Tupperware container with a lid. I guess Rosie hadn’t been able to spend much time in a kitchen like this over the last ten years, since her family was killed. Revenge isn’t really a dish that requires a preheated oven and sprinkles.

A text comes through from the female Volkov twin and I smile, glad that something is going my way for a change.

“The Volkov’s are allowing us to use one of their warehouses down at the docks for the interrogation. They say that they’ve also caught a little rodent of their own they think we might be interested in.”

“Two for the price of one?” Eli grins. “How like the Volkov’s.”

Rosie gets to her feet and loads her mug into the dishwasher, checking on her beef joint before coming back to the table. “You don’t think they’re actually fucking, do you?”

I raise my hand to stop Eli answering, since I know what he’s going to say anyway. “He’s bitter about being turned down by Anoushka, so he’ll tell you yes.”

“I am not bitter.” He huffs, pulling out his phone, likely to tell a few of the men on his security team to meet us down at the docks.

“You could have always taken Alexi home, he likes it rough.” Rosie shrugs, turning pink when she catches my unimpressed glare. “Or so I’ve heard…”

“Lotta dick,” Eli coughs, not-so-inconspicuously, whining when I kick him under the table, fed up with his antics.

“Let’s be serious about this,” I demand, and I tap my fingers against the table. We had never worked together before like this, Rosie and I. We were always playing cat and mouse with one another, but we were never on the same team.

“You should question Daniel first. Then you should let me in,” Rosie offers, an earnest expression falling into place. “It will undo Daniel.”

To my surprise Elijah nods, as if her plan makes sense, as if it was already the foregone conclusion. Had he already forgotten who the head of this Family is? Or like the others, was he defecting now that she’d managed to beat him twice? I rolled my eyes at my own thoughts, Eli was loyal. I would bet my life on that. But…wouldn’t I have said the same for Daniel too only days ago?

“You can’t kill him,” I say, my voice firm as I remind them who I am. Daniel is my employee. I hired him. I trained him. I trusted him. I was in control here until Rosie stood over my dead body, my crown clenched between her bloody fingers.

“He’s a traitor,” Rosie states simply and the cool look in her eyes makes the hairs on my arms rise. This. This was the Rosie the others knew. This was the Queen of Hearts, no compassion, no mercy, only revenge and punishment. She sat back and crossed her arms, waiting for my response.

“He betrayed me,” I remind them both. I understand what he’s done if he’s guilty. I know what is expected of me if he is a traitor. The rules of The Family were ruthless, we couldn’t afford to let people like Daniel get away with spying and disloyalty. Who knows what was compromised or who else he’d exposed or put at risk? “But it should be my decision, because this is my playground and these are my rules.”

The corner of Rosie’s mouth twitches. “And if he’s behind the shit with the church, he attempted to frame me. I demand retribution.”

“I will punish him accordingly,” I say calmly, but I don’t miss the way she and Elijah share a look, sending a shiver down my spine.