Page 4 of Queens and Monsters

Dario was first and foremost the capo dei capi of Kansas City. He was also a man of strong beliefs. While his family disapproved of him bringing me and Josie into his home, he was a man of his word—and was to this day.

He was also a collector of fine things.

Dario’s influence was evident in my choice of twin majors at Barnard College in New York: history, particularly the Renaissance, and archaeology. I was currently on semester break of my sophomore year. While I thought I’d enjoy the freedom of a college campus, I’d yet to experience any. As Dario Luciano’s responsibility, even at the age of twenty years old, I had my bodyguard to protect me at all times.

It wasn’t easy fitting into the student life with a large and intimidating man constantly in my shadow. While I longed for a regular life with freedom of choice, I was caged by the awful memories of what life could be like without Dario’s overprotective influence.

I laid the sleeping kitten on the blanket and quietly exited my bedroom. The stillness of the night buzzed in my ears, sending my senses into overdrive. I’d walked these hallways since I was seven years old, knowing each turn and what was behind every door. The simple life we’d had when I was a child was now replaced with more.

More people.

More noise.

More responsibilities.

It wasn’t only that in the last few years Dario had become the capo dei capi of the Kansas City Famiglia, making his office on the first floor a place for meetings that brought dangerous people into our home. The last few years had also brought Catalina, Dario’s wife, and Ariadna Gia, their beautiful daughter, into our fold. Dario’s marriage was the fruition of an alliance between the Kansas City Famiglia and the Roríguez cartel.

The dangers I’d been raised to avoid were present at every turn.

At first, I had my doubts about their arranged marriage, but Catalina was a great match for Dario. Her open and loving heart balanced Dario’s more reserved personality, making us a family. Because of that bond, tomorrow our home would be filled with members of the Kansas City Famiglia and the Roriguez cartel, includingel Patr?nhimself.

I shivered at the thought.

Making my way down the staircase to the first floor, I quietly entered the kitchen. I expected to find one of our bodyguards, Armando or Piero, keeping watch. To my surprise, the kitchen was empty, the hum of the refrigerators and lingering aromas of Contessa’s cooking in preparation for tomorrow night’s feast filling the dimly lit room.

The light from within the refrigerator was blinding as I reached for a water bottle. The clock on the microwave told me that it was past midnight,officially Christmas Eve. I couldn’t pinpoint why I wasn’t tired, but I wasn’t.

Perhaps I needed to push away my fears of the first snow.

My bare feet padded down the hallway toward the living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows beckoned me closer like a giant movie screen of the season’s first snow. The city lights combined with the ambient light and white falling snow cast a gray illumination throughout the room.

Taking a drink of my water, I spun to a noise. Almost choking with my pulse now racing, I saw a man I didn’t know standing before me.

“Who are you?” The wavering in my voice threatened to give away my unease. The small hairs on my neck rose to attention and goose bumps materialized beneath my pajamas. This was my home.

Why is he here?

Quickly, my gaze darted around the room, searching for Piero or Armando. My thoughts were fragments trying to make sense of his presence. There was something about this man, an air of danger and power. Muscles with tattoos bulged from beneath the sleeve of his dark t-shirt. While there was a holster over one shoulder, this man didn’t need weapons: he could maim or kill with his hands.

I’d heard Catalina’s brother was visiting for the holiday. I knew Em. This wasn’t him.

Despite my recent drink, my mouth went dry as the man walked toward me, each step of his boots echoing on the marble tile. His jean-clad long legs reached me ina few steps. With the closeness came a better view of his handsome face, prominent brow, and defined jaw covered by a trimmed beard. His chest seemed wider, and his height dwarfed mine.

His dark hair was short on the sides and longer on top. The scent of sandalwood and leather permeated my senses. Securing the cap on my water bottle, I set it on the windowsill. Straightening my neck, I stood tall, feigning strength, as I tried to put together the pieces. “You’re from the Roríguez cartel.” It wasn’t a question and at the same time, it was.

“Sí.”

Was he one of their guards? A soldier wouldn’t move with the confidence he emanated. The way he moved was graceful as if he’d choreographed a dance—perhaps a tango. No, I was wrong. His steps were predatory, a lion approaching his prey.

I took a step back.

He was close enough that I had to raise my chin to maintain my view of his almost fully black orbs. Another step and I would collide with the cool glass of the window. I held my ground

“You’re Jasmine.”

He pronounced my name in a way I’d never heard.Jazz-mean.

I nodded.

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