Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

I turned to face Cristiano. “The doctor was here? What’d she say?”

His eyes twinkled. “That I’m cleared for almost everything.”

A flush made its way up my chest. “I’ll have to hear that from her mouth.”

“You would’ve if you’d been by his side,” Tasha said behind me. “Where were you?”

Gardening suddenly sounded unimpressive, but spending time in the Badlands was much more than that. Without Max, Cristiano, or even Alejandro to talk to, the residents had issues to be resolved, and I heard some of them while helping out around the chapel.

I turned to Tasha. “Handling business. Teresa was showing me some things.” I held up my left hand before adding, “She’s the goldsmith who made my wedding rings.”

Tasha checked her manicure. How it was still perfectly intact after the last couple weeks was beyond me. “Ten cuidado, Cristiano. You should be careful,” she said. “When a mafioso falls, there are always vultures lying in wait.”

Cristiano pushed back from the table, rose, and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Are you suggesting I’ve fallen?” he asked.

Tasha wet her lips. “You will if you don’t take control of this situation. Word is spreading.”

She’d indicated something similar before, when she’d first arrived. Before I could ask her to clarify, Alejandro opened the door to the kitchen, holding it for Jaz to pass through.

“How many places should I set for dinner, señor?” Jaz asked.

“Set it for five,” I answered. “Pilar will be joining us as well. Will you get her, Alejandro?”

“Of course,” he said, nearly jogging off in the direction of the library where Pilar had been spending most of her time.

As Jaz distributed silverware and napkins, and filled glasses with red wine, Cristiano moved to the head of the table, walking almost as if he was back to normal. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still in pain, though.

I linked my elbow with his and lowered my voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than ever,” he said without looking at me.

“Tasha said word is spreading. Does that mean people beyond Belmonte-Ruiz are beginning to learn the truth about the Badlands?”

“We’re not discussing this now.”

“But—”

“I said no.”

Tasha and Jaz quieted, looking at us.

“It’s not a topic for dinner.” Cristiano grabbed one of the elaborate candelabras from the center of the table and thrust it toward Jaz. “Get rid of this. Nobody can see each other with these malditas cosas in the way.”

My mouth fell open as he cursed something as stupid as candlesticks. Even though he and I had argued since his return, it was the first time he’d snapped at me. I wasn’t even entirely sure what the topic was, but it was obviously a sore one.

Pilar’s laugh floated in before she did with Alejandro. He’d clearly said something to amuse her, but when her eyes landed on Cristiano, her demeanor shrank.

Cristiano hadn’t left our room much since he’d been confined there, which meant . . . this was the first time Pilar had seen him—at least while he was conscious—since our wedding. She wrung her hands in front of her, her nerves palpable, even from across the room. “Wh-where should I sit?”

“Anywhere but in Natalia’s seat,” Cristiano said, standing behind his chair at the head.

Pilar’s eyes darted around. Since we rarely ate at the table, she had no way of knowing whose seat was whose. “Here,” I said, holding out a hand for her. I led her to the chair next to mine. “Alejandro, you sit opposite her.”

Cristiano pulled out my chair but spoke to Pilar. “I take it you’ll be staying with us a while.”

Pilar glanced at Alejandro as she tucked a napkin on her lap. “I . . .”

“The fiancé won’t be bothering Pilar again,” Alejandro replied for her.

“Good,” Cristiano said, gesturing for me to sit.

I stayed where I was, feeling suddenly out of the loop. “What are you talking about?”

“Whose fiancé?” Tasha chimed in.

“Siéntate.” Cristiano ordered me to sit, waiting as beads of sweat formed on his upper lip. Knowing he wouldn’t relax until I did, I obeyed. He helped scoot me under the table and asked, “What kind of food do you like, Pilar?”

I gave her an encouraging smile.

“Traditional,” she said.

“Traditional what?” Cristiano asked, taking his seat at the head. “Traditional Vietnamese? Do you like pho? Indian? Chicken curry?”

“You know what she means,” I told Cristiano. What was his problem? Whatever nerve I’d hit earlier, it was obviously still tender. “Most people count their blessings after a near-death experience—you just come out even grumpier.”

Pilar shifted her horrified stare to me. In her world, women didn’t go around calling dangerous kingpins grumpy.

Cristiano paused in the middle of unfurling his napkin into his lap and looked at me. “You haven’t seen grumpy yet, mamacita.”

“She has a point,” Alejandro said from across the table. “Maybe it’s because you stopped the painkillers.”

“When?” I demanded.

Cristiano sat back in his seat, massaging the bridge of his nose with a hefty sigh. “Days ago.”