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Tor shrugs carelessly. “You can’t, and it doesn’t fucking matter.” He rises to his feet, standing tall, and looks Angelo in the eye. “But you’re looking at the new capo of Devil’s Cove. You can work with me, or you can work against me, but I promise you, not only am I better-looking than my older brother, I’m also smarter, wealthier, and better connected. You want a war, bring it on, baby.” He swipes a bottle of Smuggler’s Club off the drinks cart and slams two glasses on the table. Liquor sloshes over the rims as he fills them up with vigor. He slides one in Angelo’s direction. “You want to call a truce and help me build Cove back up? Then that’s good with me too.”
He raises his glass and waits.
Angelo glares at him for the longest time, then he swipes up the glass and silently downs it in one.
TheViscontimansionisquiet, save for the whir of mechanical Christmas decorations and the storm battering the floor-to-ceiling windows in the entryway.
“Come in!” Rory calls when I knock.
I poke my head around her bedroom door and am greeted by her tipsy grin and her fluffy dog. “Please tell me you’ve come to join the sleepover?”
I glance at the bed, where long, black hair snakes across a cream pillow. Somewhere under the covers, a small lump is snoring. “Have you swapped your husband out for Tayce?”
She flashes me a guilty smile. “He’s not feeling too well, so he’s been banished to a guest room. I thought it might be the turkey, but everyone except you and I ate it, right? And they’re all fine.”
I study her big, innocent eyes. Either she’s the best liar I’ve ever met, or she just so happened to choose the perfect day to become a vegetarian too.
“Uh-huh,” I say dryly. “Maybe it was the humiliation of dressing up as an elf. Howdidyou convince him to do that, by the way?”
She smiles knowingly. “I was financially motivated.”
I laugh. “Anyway, I brought you a gift.”
Her eyes light up at the Rolex dangling by its strap between my thumb and forefinger. “Is that Cas’s watch?”
“Yep. Thought you might like it after he told you a bag of frozen vegetables and a self-service bar isn’t a replacement for a full catering service on Christmas day.”
“He’s such a snob. As if I was going to make my staff work Christmas day—they have families too, you know?” She swipes the watch from me and holds it up to the light. “I love it.”
Then she drops it in the half-drunk white wine spritzer on her dresser.
“Do you have everything you need?”
I stare at the bubbles engulfing the six-figure timepiece, distracted. “Uh, yeah. I mean, no. Do you have any pajamas?” I skim an eye down her lithe frame. “Ones that might fit me?”
The storm came out of nowhere, power-washing all the fake snow off the windows. Rafe got word that the waters are too choppy to head back to the yacht on the shuttle, so we’re staying here tonight.
We can’t go home, Queenie,Rafe said. His use ofhomefizzled in my chest and burned a hole there.
Rory tosses me an oversized T-shirt. “Be nice to it; it’s my fave.”
I unravel the fabric and read the logo:The Washington State Birdwatchers Association.
I catch Rory’s eye and she grins. “Proud member since I was five.”
We say our goodnights, and I pad down the hall with my new sleepwear slung over my arm. At the end of it, soft light seeps out from underneath the door of our bedroom for the night. Every step I take toward it, my heart beats a little faster, knowing the sight behind it will leave me breathless.
Rafe’s lying on the bed in nothing but ink and black boxers. He has one arm behind his head, and the way his bicep flexes makes me want to sink my teeth into it again.
He regards me with lazy amusement. “Hey, cutie.”
Despite the blush heating my cheeks, I roll my eyes. “Trying out new nicknames?” He rakes his teeth over his smirk and nods. “How about Doom Card? Or, The Unlucky Charm?”
His gaze sparks. “Not very catchy. I’ll stick to Queenie, I think.”
I flip him off and disappear inside the en-suite. Although I’ve had the perfect day, dread washes over me. It’s been coming in unexpected waves ever since Rafe explained why he calls me Queenie.
The Queen of Hearts. The red-haired lady that’ll bring him to his knees. It’s an odd mixture of guilt and frustration that haunts me, and the irony isn’t lost on me, either.
