Chapter 10 - The King and His Queen
Six months later.
The Velvet Lounge was exactly as I remembered it—smelling of stale beer and bad decisions. But the sign outside now read Closed for Private Event.
I sat at the bar, tracing the rim of a martini glass, wearing a diamond on my left ring finger that was heavy enough to double as a weapon. The door swung open, and Marcus, my old boss, walked in carrying a crate of top-shelf liquor. He stopped dead when he saw me, nearly dropping the box.
“Clara?” Marcus gaped. “Jesus, kid, where have you been? The cops came looking for you, then some scary guys in suits...”
“I’ve been busy, Marcus,” I smiled, taking a sip of my drink.
Behind Marcus, the door opened again. Two massive enforcers stepped inside, holding the door for Julian. He wore a perfectly tailored midnight-blue suit, his silver-tipped cane long gone, exuding a power that sucked the air out of the room.
Marcus turned pale, backing away slowly.
Julian walked up to the bar, ignoring Marcus entirely, and sat on the stool next to me. He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. “Is this the place?” he asked, looking around with mild disgust.
“This is it,” I said. “The alley is out back. It’s where you bled on my favorite shoes.”
Julian chuckled, a deep, rich sound. After the siege, the Rossi Syndicate had purged the remaining traitors. With the Bratva leadership decimated, Julian had consolidated his power. He was now the undisputed King of the West Coast. But more importantly, he was mine.
“I bought the building,” Julian said casually, signaling one of his men to hand Marcus a thick envelope. “You can bulldoze it, turn it into a charity foundation, or keep it as a monument to the night you saved my life. It’s yours.”
Marcus scrambled out of the bar with the cash, leaving us alone in the dim light.
Julian turned my chair so I was facing him. He took both of my hands in his, his thumbs rubbing over my knuckles. “I asked you once before, and I’ll ask you again. You can have anything, Clara. You can walk away from this life. I’ll make sure you’re protected, wealthy, and safe. You never have to see the blood again.”
I looked into the slate-gray eyes of the mafia boss. I had seen the darkness in him. I had seen the monster. But I had also seen the man who cried into my chest because he was terrified of losing me. I had seen the man who would burn the world down to keep me warm.
I slipped off the barstool, stepping between his legs, and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“You’re stuck with me, Julian Rossi,” I whispered against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere. The King needs his Queen.”
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Julian smiled, a genuine, blinding smile that reached his eyes. He pulled me flush against his chest, claiming my lips in a kiss that tasted like power, survival, and forever.
“Long live the Queen,” he murmured.
