Page 58 of Corrupted Queen

“Patrick, I have been a model partner, but I warn you not to cross me. I will make what I did to your father look like a mercy compared to what I will do to you.”

Patrick lifts his hands to his cheeks. “Oh no. I’m so scared.” With a snort, he adds, “Please, Gabriel. We all know you’re on an even tighter leash than I am.”

“Don’t test me,” I snarl.

“I won’t,” he says. “Not yet. I just wanted to remind you that I’m not the passive rag doll you think I am. I’m a king in my own right, just like you.” He leans closer conspiratorially, though his voice grows louder. “And don’t forget that you need me to help with your little purple problem.”

My eyes flick to his in alarm. How dare he say that here? In public? Patrick claps me on the back and leaves as I look around to make sure nobody overheard him.

Behind me, Alexis is standing rigid with her mouth agape, eyes wide with shock. She snaps her mouth shut when she sees me and turns on her heel, stomping out of the banquet hall.

I mutter every curse in the book as I follow her, juggling a variety of emotions that I don’t quite understand. This is my business. It’s nothing to do with her. Besides, Alexis knows I’m a criminal, this shouldn’t be a shock to her.

So why does it feel like I’ve betrayed her somehow? And why does the thought of her disappointment sting like salt in a deep wound?

I had thought that this fundraiser had the potential to be a little untidy but this—this is a fucking mess.

22

Alexis

“What do you mean it’s not ready?” Debbie screams. I wince and pull the phone from my ear.

“Shh,” I hiss into the phone, worried that Jessica will hear the conversation from the nursery next door, pop music be damned. “Listen, I know I said—”

“You said that you had all the proof you needed! You said you were ready to rock and that writing the article was going to be a piece of piss!” she interrupts, taking liberties with the wording I used in the email I now regret sending.

“I thought I had everything, but it turns out I’m still missing some vital information.”

“Like what, Alexis?” she huffs. “Like the star signs of each of the key players? Am I going to get an article that reads something like,Garrett O’Leary may seem like a tough gangster who cuts off the eyelids of his enemies but underneath it all he’s just another flirty Libra.”

I deserve this castigation, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. I don’t know whether I’m more frustrated with myself for telling Debbie I had everything in the first place or recanting now.

Truth is, Icouldwrite the article now. The most evidence I have, however, is on Gabriel. There’s no way for me to write this article without implicating him, and while that was always going to happen, now I’m wondering if there’s another way.

I want my cake, and I want to eat it too. Sue me.

“I have a plan,” I tell Debbie. “And for the record, Garrett O’Leary may be a Libra, but he was born under a Capricorn moon, so he tends to be an ice queen when it comes to relationships.”

I can feel her glare through the phone.

“Care to elaborate on some of the details of this plan?” she grumbles.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Anyway, I have to go.”

“So help me God, Alexis, you better send me something soon or—”

I hang up, which I know will earn me a slap on the wrist later, but I don’t care. I need to think of a plan, a way to write a great article exposing the mob connections to the purple heroin trade and how it is getting into the city without dragging Gabriel or the Italians through the mud.

The obvious solution is to pin it all on the Irish, and after witnessing Gabriel’s heated interaction with Patrick Walsh at the gala, I have no qualms with that. I might have only caught the last part of the conversation, but I saw the woman at Patrick’s side—the one who’d been harassing Gabriel only moments prior. Patrick needed to pay for his disrespect.

I turn down the pop music, chuckling at myself. Pay for his disrespect? I was starting to sound like a mobster myself.

It has been a couple days since that night, and I haven’t seen much of Gabriel. As expected, he turned cold on me again as soon as we left. Thing is, I turned cold on him too. I knew about the purple heroin before, but Patrick’s comments at the gala gave me an opportunity to react to the knowledge. To show Gabriel how his involvement in such an atrocious practice made me feel.

So I’ve ignored him. And he’s ignored me. And we’ve ignored each other.

Since that tactic isn’t going anywhere, it’s time for me to switch tracks and head in another direction. My best bet for bringing down the Irish is to have Gabriel on my side, to make him my accomplice—knowingly or otherwise.

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