Page 76 of Merciless Queen

Zeno makes a low noise, which I feel over the nape of my neck. And just when I think his touch might explore more places, and I wonder if my distraught mind will remember to push him away, Zeno removes his hands and nudges me off his lap.

He helps me stand, his eyes staring over my shoulder rather than my face. His expression seems cooler than before, and the ice evaporates amidst the water’s temperature.

“Glad you’re back to the land of the present.” He turns for the shower’s door handle. “Finish up in here. I’ll get you fresh clothes.”

He’s gone before I can thank him. Gone before I can finish rationalizing why he was in here.

Because I was breaking down. Or processing, as he called it.

I brush my hands over my face, wiping away my temporary insanity, as though that’ll be an easy feat and move beneath the shower’s spray again. To remain in the present, I recite all the important details I’ve learned while shampooing my hair.

Papa raped and impregnated a woman, who happens to be Zeno’s mom. That makes the child, Serafina, my half-sister. Papa’s not a good person, which is no new fact, and Zeno’s family is understandably seeking retribution.

The more I repeat them, the less shocking they become. The more I’ll be able to function. Now knowing why I’m Zeno’s target explains some of what’s happening here. He’s claimed he won’t be killing me, and by now, my Elite should be getting closer to arriving.

Everything’s fine. Manageable. Now that I’ve “processed,” I’ll never be as vulnerable as Zeno just found me. It was a one-off, similar to the few anxious moments I had in my own shower at home during the initial few months of leadership.

I finish up, suddenly more eager than ever to get out ofhisspace. Hell, eager to get out of Italy altogether. I got my answers so there’s nothing I need more than freedom and to return home.

And Zeno?Just this morning, I was prepared to end his life once my army arrives. This time, when I shoot the gun, I won’t miss and it’ll guarantee this feud with the Cosa Nostra ends. But now…now that thought feels wrong.

Like I’d be no different than Papa if I followed through.

Maybe my breakdown isn’t over; it’d explain these irrational thoughts. Zeno tricked me with the intention to murder me, so shitty family history or not, there’s no reason to keep him alive. Feeling sorry about actions done to his mother can’t save his soul, not when it’s my own is also on the line.

As I bundle up in a fluffy towel hanging on a nearby rack, I question if my thoughts and actions will cooperate, or if they toowill find themselves at war come the time when Zeno is pleading for mercy.

My mind remains a roadblock,preventing thoughts to slip through because surely I’ve lost my fucking ever living mind to have gone into the shower and helped Vanessa through whatever mental prison she locked herself inside.

Vanessa realizing the precise actions her father took against my family is everything I wanted. To feel the impact and how her father abandoned her in more ways than their own shitty history.

When I entered my bedroom, I half-expected her to be sharpening more weapons, or tying bedsheets together to propel herself from my window—only after she breaks it open—but instead she was gone. I followed the water sounds to my ensuite, expecting another one of her games.

Instead, she was curled in a ball against the shower wall, shaking and mumbling nonsense to herself, and completely missed me yelling her name. There was a vulnerability to her I suspect few—if any—have seen.

Why I stepped inside is beyond me. Why I held her, cared for her, I can’t understand. She might soon be my unwillingbride, but it’s a political scheme and nothing further. Nothing involving pesky feelings that’ll allow her to creep inside me. Being shackled to me will be a punishment, so she can have all the breakdowns she wants.

Because I don’t, and can’t, care.

My wet shoes slosh down the hallway, and they’re another reminder of my idiocy because now I’m soaked head-to-toe. I walk down the stairs and toward the back entrance, not slowing down on my way to the pool where Nero and Serafina were hanging out earlier.

Venus glances over from where she’s stretched beside Serafina, who’s sitting poolside, her legs dangling in the water. If Serafina, her rightful owner, wasn’t around, the dog would happily greet me, but I’m the second choice when she’s here. It’s been like that since the day she adopted Venus from a local shelter. Madre didn’t want a large dog in a place with such a small backyard when the Mancini property is a better option, so she’s been raised here and visited by Serafina.

Nero sits up from the lounge chair he’s occupying, watching as I stride by. His brows spike when he takes in my soaked clothing, an amused smirk pulling up on one side of his mouth.

I ignore him and tell Serafina, “I’m borrowing clothes for Vanessa from your closet.”

She hikes her sunglasses to her forehead, peering up at me with a flattened expression. She’s really good at pretending to be calm, but the storm swirling in her blue eyes claims otherwise. It reminds me of the woman inside my bathroom, and I hate comparing them. She jerks her legs from the water, startling Venus as she scrambles to stand.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Zeno.” The use of my full name implies her fury.

“It’s clothes, Sera. Deal with it. I’ll get you more.” But I know that’s not why she’s angry.

She shoves her hands into my chest, unable to knock me back a step with her much weaker strength. “That’snotwhat I meant, and you fucking know it. You left out some pretty convenient information when you texted asking me to go to your room. Didn’t even have the decency to prepare me forthat.”

I level my stare at her, heart pounding faster, but needing her to say the words. “What isthatexactly?”

She blanches, hands tossing into the air with her typical dramatic flair. “You’re fucking serious, right? Look, I get you’re trying to protect me. Hell, it’s all you ever do, but she’s?—”

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