Page 43 of Coerced Queen

“I don’t need you to save me,” she says, looking down her nose at me.“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m saving myself.”

With that, she walks from the shop.

I wait a good five minutes before I go over to the bar where Livy sits in a black trench coat with a black scarf around her hair and oversized sunglasses on her face.

She lowers the cappuccino she’s been sipping.“Will she come through?”

“Yes.”I frown.“I hope so.”

“Good.”She hops from her seat.“That was kind of boring.I was hoping for more action.”

“More action?”

“It’s a pity I never got to use my gun.”

ChapterSeventeen

Saverio

The sound of feminine laughter reaches me where I sit hunched behind my desk, combing through my assets for money I can salvage from God only knows where and finding too little.

I turn the left side of my face toward the door and prick up my ear.

If I concentrate hard, I can distinguish Livy’s voice but only because she’s uncharacteristically loud.Before, I would’ve been able to nail the identity of each visitor by their intonation alone.Now, I can’t even make an accurate guess of the number of bodies in my house.

Livy must be talking to the men doing the night rounds.She always takes them a flask of hot chocolate and home-baked cookies before she goes to bed.

I check the time.It’s after eight.I’ve been holed up in here for most of the day.Livy brought me dinner.The food sits untouched on my desk, cold now.I haven’t seen Anya since they got home.I reckoned she’d be busy with feeding and bathing Claire, and the workout I challenged myself with while blasting music loud enough through my ear to damage my remaining hearing served as a distraction to prevent me from sticking my nose in where it wouldn’t be welcome.

Making a conscious effort, I go back to perusing my fixed assets.

Maybe I should sell the house.

No.Anya and Claire need a safe place to live.Besides, putting the property on the market will tell my enemies exactly what I don’t want them to know—that the business is in financial trouble.That the territory I inherited from Luigi is at stake.

The Corvette will definitely have to go.I wince at the idea of parting with that particular toy.It’s not as much a fast car as a token of my success.I bought it to reward myself for obtaining my goals.I guess it’s fitting that I sell it to recognize my failure.

I sit back and rub a hand over my face.My fingertips brush over the patch.The presence of it still surprises me even though I should be used to it by now.It’s like getting used to the loss of an eye.I don’t think I’ll ever grow accustomed to it.

I underestimated Raphael.That one is on me.This mess is my fault, and I’ll fix it no matter what it takes.Even if it means sacrificing myself.

Another bout of laughter rises from the back of the house.This time, I discern the pretty, demure sound of Anya’s voice that calls to me like a siren.

Fuck it.

Irritated with my life, my limitations, and my inability to concentrate, I shut my laptop, take my crutches, and follow the animated conversation to the kitchen.Only, it doesn’t come from the kitchen.It comes from the backyard.That’s when I smell the smoke.

I yank open the back door, expecting the grass or something to be on fire.There is a fire, but it’s not what I thought.

Anya, Livy, and Nicole sit in camping chairs around a portable fire pit on the lawn.A small bonfire burns in the pit, the flames licking the air and sending sparks into the night.Anya wears a knitted beanie, a puffy jacket, and jeans tucked into Uggs.Livy is decked out in a camo ski suit with snow boots, looking as if she’s about to hit the slopes with a fleece headband covering her ears and ski goggles with yellow-tinted, one-way lenses obscuring her eyes.What surprises me the most is finding Nicole there.She’s wrapped up in an enormous faux fur coat with a matching hat, her high-heeled boots sticking out from under the hem of the long coat.

The women each have a glass in their hands—wineglasses for Livy and Nicole and a tumbler for Anya.They have their legs stretched out, warming their feet around the fire.

“You’re not going home now,” Livy says.“We’re having another one.”

Nicole holds up a finger, slurring slightly when she says, “At this rate, no driver will let me into a taxi.”

“Don’t worry.”Anya chuckles.“We have spare bedrooms.”

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