Page 65 of Fierce Monarch

Or she would’ve been if my father had survived.

My father’s family had been in charge of Chicago longer than the Marcosas had ruled Seattle. It was part of the reason my mother had married Mario in the first place, to unite the two families and expand his reach across the country. Despite how young she’d been, my mother was a smart woman. Without my father, my position as heir had been tenuous at best. I had been too young to rule and too ornery to care about it. She’d tried to hold on to the seat as long as she could, but eventually, another family came in with an offer she couldn’t refuse. The Lords of Chicago, the ruling faction at the time, let me live as long as I denounced any possibility of coming back for my position. I could live here, grow old here, and die here, but I would never rule.

Amnesty deals were few and far between, so my mother took it. One of many.

I helped Mari out of the car, careful to keep myself between her and anyone else until Grey boxed her in on the other side. She stiffened immediately, not liking being guarded so closely. But we were in unknown territory, and even if my mother held her husband’s leash tightly, I wasn’t risking my girl for anything.

I’d leash her myself if I thought I could get away with it.

The door opened before we knocked, and my mother filled my vision.

Lucia Ricci was nearly sixty and looked half her age. Only the faint wrinkles at the sides of her mouth and her eyes betrayed her secret, and no one who looked that hard at her would care. Her sheath dress was new, just like the diamond necklace at her throat, and only the kitten heels on her feet told me she was dressed up with nowhere to go.

No less than three-inch heels would do for leaving the house. Mama Ricci’s rules.

She hadn’t always been so put together, but after my father was murdered, she fell into the routine of being a mafia wife. Always on, always perfect.

I missed the woman she’d been before. When she’d just been my mom, not Lucia.

“Dominic.” Her wide-eyed expression went from happy to worried the second I shifted to the side and Mari stepped forward, holding out her hand to shake.

“Lucia. It’s lovely to see you again.”

Mother shook it robotically before her eyes flicked to Grey and then beyond us all to the street, though it was impossible to really see from here. “Why don’t you all come in?”

I could see the calculations in her eyes, wondering if I was bringing trouble to her door, while also trying to make sure the neighbors didn’t get a good look at who was coming in. Most likely, she’d spin a story that I was some billionaire wanting to put his money into politics to help Doug’s career.

“We’d love to.” Mari stepped in first, casually looking around as she did. “You have a picture-perfect home.”

It was not a compliment. The inside looked like a magazine and felt about as warm as a hospital room. Even our place at the Celestine was more comfortable than this.

“Tea, coffee? I think we’ve got some of those butter cookies you like, Mari. They’re Dominic’s favorite too, so I keep them in the cupboard.”

They were my favorite because they were Mari’s, and from the sly, sweet look on her face, she knew it too. “No, thank you. We’ve just got a few questions, so we won’t take up too much of your time.

“We were going through some of Mario’s things recently, and we came across your name mixed with an…adversary of ours. Considering his history, we wanted to get the story from the source.”

“Adversary?” Mother asked, but she knew. Her hands crept to her throat, clutching the necklace there with shaking fingers and a firm grip.

“Cash Beckstrom.”

The name felt like dropping an atom bomb in the middle of the room. My mother’s face twitched but didn’t move, and that alone told me she had more history with Cash than I wanted her to. Fear soured my stomach, and I prayed like I never had before that he hadn’t hurt her. He was already a dead man for what he’d done to Mari, but if he’d attacked my mother too, there wouldn’t be enough pieces to identify his remains.

Lucia’s eyes flitted around the room, barely stopping on one thing before moving on to the next. “I’m sorry, I don’t?—”

“I should’ve been more clear,” Mari said, leaning back in the cushions as if to show how comfortable she was. “We aren’t leaving until you give us everything you’ve got on him.”

My mother’s eyes flicked to mine. “Dominic.”

It was a plea, a desperate, bone-deep cry for help, and I couldn’t give it. “Tell her, Mother.”

A long, tense moment passed, during which the only thing breaking the silence was the roar of the wind outside. The house was sturdy, but it creaked and moaned as all old houses did. My mother stared into the empty fireplace, tracking the marble like it would give her the answers she wanted.

When she spoke, her voice was barely loud enough to hear. “We had an affair.”

Christ. “You and Cash?”

“Yes.” She turned to us then, eyes brimming with tears. “You have to understand, I didn’t want to marry Mario.”

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