Page 101 of Unforgiving Queen
Yeah, maybe I was a tad bit on edge. The fucking circus of this rehearsal. Wedding plans. My scheming. Reina’s “my kind of man” Instagram post played in my mind.
Yes, I stalked her social media platforms. Fucking sue me.
And then there was the little disturbing fact that this bartender looked like the type.
Irritation crawled up my back remembering that fucking post and Darius’s smug face. No matter though. She was destined for me, and nobody could keep us apart. Not her father. Not Dante. And certainly not this fucking prick.
I bent over so I was eye level with the guy who thought himself worthy of a shot with someone like Reina. My queen.
“Get lost before I break every bone in your body.” I shoved him out of the way. “Delete her number. If I see you anywhere near her, you’re a dead man.”
He scurried away like a mouse released from a trap. I turned around to find Illias and Marchetti standing behind me. Marchetti’s eyes were trained on Reina and her friends, who were all sloshed, and from the looks of it, ganging up on Dante. It was actually quite entertaining to watch. Plus, it was nice to know I wasn’t the only one causing a scene. I shouldn’t have been surprised; this crowd of people didn’t exactly operate in dignified circles. My run-in with the bartender was likely a blip on their radars.Good.
“This has certainly been an interesting rehearsal dinner,” Marchetti remarked. “Thank fuck I didn’t have one.”
My eyebrows climbed as I studied the way he watched his wife, an uncharacteristically soft expression taking over. Even a blind man could see that Isla had him wrapped around her little finger.
“It seems your wives are the only sober ones,” I pointed out. “Tatiana’s pregnant. What’s Isla’s excuse?”
Marchetti flicked a glance my way, then returned it to his wife. “She said Reina is always the one responsible for getting them home safely,” he finally explained. “Isla decided to be the designated walker tonight, I guess.”
“As if they’re walking anywhere,” Manuel snickered.
“Where in the fuck did you come from?” Marchetti said.
“Looks like Romero and Dante are having one hell of a time,” Manuel remarked dryly, ignoring Marchetti’s question altogether. He was right though. The girls had turned their attention away from Dante and were now gesticulating wildly in Romero’s face.
Reina’s grandmother made her way in front of us, wearing a floor-length lilac dress and looking like the star of her own life. Her husband jutted his chin in greeting while her cold blue gaze flicked over us with disdain. Until her eyes landed on me. She paused, her lips thinning with displeasure before she resumed walking.
“Damn, man. That look… The dragon woman lovesyou.” Manuel was so helpful with his observations tonight. “I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you.”
We all watched Romero’s mother-in-law stroll over to the speaker and yank the cord out of the wall, putting a stop to Reina’s music.
“This party is over,” she announced, her voice loud enough to rattle the silverware.
“Well, damn. It was just getting good,” Raven complained, her voice a slur.
Reina mouthed something that made them all snicker.
“Reina Amora Romero!” I watched her freeze, then slowly turn around, meeting her grandmother’s eyes across the room. “You’re better than this.”
She closed her eyes, her long blonde eyelashes resting on her cheeks. When she opened them again, they flared with stubbornness. “You’re right. Hence the reason for making a statement.”
“Reina, this behavior is unacceptable,” Romero hissed.
She didn’t seem troubled. “I agree. Marrying off a twenty-one-year-old in today’s day and ageisunacceptable.”
Her friends nodded furiously in agreement. Athena even lost her balance and had to grab Raven’s hand or risk falling over.
Reina yanked another glass from a passing tray, but before she could bring it to her lips, Dante grabbed her wrist.
I’d seen enough.
I was next to him in my next breath. “Take your hand off her.” My voice was unnaturally calm, my face now inches from his. He held her wrist, her skin turning a shade paler from the loss of circulation. “Now,” I gritted.
The air stilled, the battle of wills between us calm and deadly. My gaze coasted over her. Wild blonde curls. Smooth ivory skin. And so much pink—pink heels, pink dress, pink fingernails.
“Or what, brother?” The amused breath he let out told me he knew I slipped up, but it was too late to retract the words. I was done with standing by.
