Page 8 of The Queen
She stops, not turning around. “Back at you, baby.”
Eliza carries on walking, and I narrow my eyes at her. She didn’t say it back, but I know she feels it. She’s just too scared to admit it out loud, fearing she’ll lose me and us.
But she should know by now that no one fucks with me.
The heavy thump at the door makes me frown, but I cross over to yank it open, hand on the hilt of my knife.
“Drago,” I murmur. “What the fuck do you want?”
“The other half of my pay.”
“You didn’t do anything for it.”
“Deal’s a deal.”
“Grenville is gone.”
“Which means my pay cheque went with him.” He glares at me, slamming his massive hand on the door, I assume in case I get any ideas.
“So, what do you want? Pay or a job?”
Drago’s eyes narrow as he assesses me. “Both,” he growls, his voice as rough as gravel. “I’ve got nothing to lose now.”
“Neither do we,” Tarquin cuts in from behind me, his voice deceptively calm despite the fact he is about to lose his shit on the asshole who had him in a chokehold. Oliver and James flank him, a united front against this new threat—a threat that just might become an asset.
Eliza’s voice drifts down from the top of the stairs, “Let him in, Raphael. He’s right; deals are deals.”
I step aside, but not without glowering at Drago, whose massive bulk barely fits through the doorway. The air shifts, charged with the potential implications for our operations.
“We can offer you a position,” Oliver says once Drago is inside. “But it comes with conditions. You play by our rules—the Queen’s rules.”
Drago’s sharp gaze flickers towards Eliza, who stands at the top of the stairs like a goddess made flesh—her will is law within these walls. “And if I don’t like these rules?”
“You’ll like them less being dead,” James remarks flatly. The look in his eyes is dark and cold.
Eliza descends the stairs with purpose and authority, etched into every step. Her presence grips the room, and even Drago seems to feel her power as she approaches him.
“You work for me now,” she declares without hesitation or doubt. “You get your pay when you prove you’re worth it. But double-cross me or mine,” her green eyes flash dangerously, “and you’ll wish I stabbed you just a bit harder and a bit to the right so you could bleed out.”
My dark soul fills with a satisfaction so fulfilling, I didn’t think it existed. If I weren’t already kill-for-her in love with her, I know I would be now.
“Done,” Drago says with a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”
He gives me a death stare as he leaves, and I slam the door behind him. “This a good idea?”
“He’s scary as fuck,” Eliza says. “And built like a brick shithouse. He had Tarquin on the ropes in an all-out fight. He’s an asset.”
“Hey,” Tarquin barks out. “He caught me off guard.”
Eliza and I share a grin. “Sure he did, little bro. Sure he did.”
He gives me the middle finger and, with his dignity in shreds, hobbles up the stairs and past Eliza to lick his wounds.
“He’ll be okay,” I tell her as she bites her bottom lip with concern. “Go and get some rest.”
She nods and gives us a ‘peace out’ sign before she returns to her room, and I lean back against the front door with a sigh.
“This is only going to get tougher.”
