Page 64 of Consort of the Crime Queen

There's plenty of time for that. And I don't want to connect the invasion of Elysium with what should be a happy moment.

The happiest of her life, I hope.

CHAPTER 31

Aurora

SIX MONTHS LATER

A whole half year has passed since the failed attack on Elysium, and Hadria and I are living in a hotel on the Gold Coast that overlooks the water. The extravagant hotel is owned by the Bianchis, and Juno Bianchi has given us—along with the rest of the Styx Syndicate members who needed it—an indefinite free stay while Elysium is rebuilt. I asked Hadria when we first arrived if she was certain we could trust the Bianchis, considering we still don't know who was behind those mysterious stiletto killings of Syndicate members. And because of the fact that when Johnny the Gentleman returned to New York, the killings conveniently stopped.

But Hadria had smiled. "My little Sherlock Holmes. Well, I wondered that myself, as you know. But no, Sunshine. I asked Johnny flat out, and he convinced me he had nothing to do with it. He had no reason to kill our people. I was already interested in talking to the Bianchi Family, and he knew that. And despite everything that happened while he was here…I really do think he was just here for a vacation." She'd seen my furrowed brow and added, "Besides, his killing style is—was, I suppose—quite different."

I'd looked it up after our conversation, despite the fact that I should have known better. Johnny the Gentleman got his name because he always spread a white handkerchief over the faces of his victims out of respect for the dead.

"And in any case," Hadria had gone on, more seriously, "the killings also stopped after the invasion of Elysium. If the killer was one of our own, someone who died that night, it would also explain why the murders stopped."

She had a point. But Hadria and the Bianchis have commenced doing regular business together now, which makes me think it's very convenient for her to believe them innocent. I know I should stop second-guessing our allies, but a sliver of doubt lingers in my mind.

I've learned the hard way that not everyone is what they seem in this world.

But I'm content to let Hadria be Hadria, and make the decisions for the Syndicate. I know my role, and I'm relieved it's not hers. I don't think I could carry that burden as well as she does.

Still, I'm delighted that Hadria seems lighter and freer these days now that she's dealt with Nero and her father. I was quietly astonished she didn't kill Don Imperioli, given everything he's done. But Hadria has changed—we both have.

The cold modern mansion at Elysium was razed to the ground and the new house being built in its place has a far warmer, more welcoming design. I made sure there was a library, and Hadria gave me a blank check to restock it with whatever books I liked. And it was Hadria who insisted that a conservatory be built onto the house—made of bullet-resistant glass, just in case—so that I can indulge in my passion for gardening even in the depths of winter.

That's how she put it: "your passion for gardening." I told her she couldn't make me sound more boring if she tried, and she just laughed. "Am I wrong? Do you have no interest in plants anymore?"

Of course she wasn't wrong. Bringing things to life, tending to them, caring for them...that's what I was put here on earth to do, and not just with plants. With people, too. And so I'm thrilled that we're constructing extensive new accommodations on the grounds for any Syndicate members who wish to live onsite. My mother is one of them, in fact. She finally left my abusive father, and Hadria went herself to speak with him and explain that he would never have contact with either of us ever again…if he wanted to keep his tongue.

Right now, Mama is living in the cozy gardener's cottage that Mrs. Graves used to live in, and she loves it. I think she'll probably stay there—after Hadria and Mrs. Graves hashed things out, Hadria insisted on building Mrs. Graves the house of her dreams when she agreed to return to Elysium.

I'm so happy that they've reconciled. Lyssa is too, though she would never say it outright. She's recovering well from her injuries during the attack, and Ricky is, too. The Syndicate has changed a lot, just like Hadria promised. She's less autocratic these days. Now, when the Syndicate gets together for meetings in one of the function rooms here at the hotel, or at the Chesterfield Club, for which Juno Bianchi sponsored our membership, there's more of a family feel. Or, I guess, a Family feel. Hadria suggested changing the name, even floated an informal vote, but everyone raised their hand to keep the name. They were Styxies through and through, Mario told me afterward, and that was one thing that would never change, no matter how much everything else might.

Speaking of Mario, he was appointed a new lieutenant for his valor and leadership on the night of the invasion, which is so well-deserved. Hadria told me privately she wants to appoint a few more lieutenants as well; she's biding her time to see who might be a good candidate.

And as for me, I've settled into my role supporting everyone however I can, through the smallest acts of kindness and compassion, to speaking to Hadria on their behalf if there are issues—since people are still a little afraid of her. Syndicate members often come to me just to talk and say I brighten their days. Knowing I can spread a little light feels wonderful.

Tonight, Hadria and I have just arrived back at the hotel after a luxurious dinner at an exclusive restaurant, and we're alone in our suite overlooking the moonlit water of Lake Michigan and the glorious Gold Coast. As I stare out at the glimmering cityscape and waters, Hadria comes up behind me and slides her arms around my waist.

"What are you thinking about, Sunshine?" she asks, nuzzling my neck. Her breath is warm against my skin.

I smile and lean back into her embrace. "Just feeling so grateful to be here with you, like this. My whole world has changed so much."

Hadria turns me in her arms to face her. The adoration in her storm cloud eyes steals my breath away. After everything we endured to be with each other, I know this powerful woman would walk through fire for me. "I want the whole world to know you're mine," she tells me, and I feel that happy curl of desire in my belly as she smiles her wicked smile. "I want to make sure I leave my claim on every inch of you."

"You already have," I tell her, brushing my lips over hers. "But I'd be delighted to start again from the top."

Her lips curl in a smirk. "Strip."

I do. She watches me undress, eyes feasting on every inch of my body as it's revealed to her, as though she sees me anew for the first time. When I’m naked before her, she twirls her finger, and I obediently turn in a circle, giving her a full view.

"Lovely," she sighs. She reaches out to turn on the nearby floor lamp, flooding me with a soft yellow spotlight, and then turns me, pressing me up against the full-length feature window that looks over the Gold Coast. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asks, her hand sliding between my legs from behind. "Our kingdom, stretching out before us. I want you to look at it while I make you come."

“Someone will see,” I whisper, but it’s not a protest.

“I hope they do,” she says, her fingers opening up my slit, teasing and taunting my entrance. "I want them to know that you belong to me." Her confidence sends sparks running through me as she sinks her fingers into me, finding my most sensitive place inside with precision.

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