I’d like to think Daddy would be proud.
We finish our drinks, go over a bit of business, and make some final arrangements for tonight’s party. We’re hosting a celebration at Colosseum – an anniversary party of sorts. Anyone who’s anyone in the crooked underbelly of Tartarus Oaks will be there. Noah’s gone all out with the entertainment – everyone’s favorite fighters will make an appearance, including the return of the Barbarian. I’ve heard he’s even flooding the arena with water to stage a pirate battle.
The Imperators leave, propping the door open so Queen Boudica can slink inside. She settles herself into my lap, purring like the buzzsaw Cali used to chop up the Monaco prince. I stroke my kitty’s back, my gaze turning to the French doors. Outside, Eli’s talking to a willowy dude with a long beard and leather sandals, who’s brought over two pythons he rescued from a roadside zoo.
I watch Eli’s face wrinkle in concentration. The Sherlock-Holmes Orgasm Face strikes again. He bends down to look in the cages, then pulls out his phone and flips through something. I’m about to call out to him when—
—two hands clamp over my eyes. “Guess who?” a deep voice rumbles against my ear.
“Gabe?” I whirl around. He plops down beside me and settles my foot in his lap, sliding off my shoe to massage my feet. “You should know better than to scare me like that. I was about to go for my knife.”
“Please. As if you can reach your knife in your current state.” Gabe smirks. I whack him with a cushion, but I’m too happy to punish him. He’s been doing a string of shows with Broken Muse on the West Coast for the last two months. I haven’t been able to get away from the empire to see him play. I’ve watched a few shows via live feed, but it’s not the same. I’ve missed him like hell, and now he’s here – my fallen angel came back to me.
Gabriel kisses me, and all the stars fall to earth. No matter how many years pass and how many times his sinful lips touch mine, I still can’t believe this beautiful man chose me.
I pull back for some air, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get home until tomorrow?”
“Our last show got canceled. The headlining band – this bloody excellent metal group from Europe called Blood Lust – had a personal emergency. I think they ran out of groupies willing to let them drink their blood.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I whack him again. “They’re not vampires.”
“Want a bet?” Gabriel lets go of my foot to tick off his fingers. “They’re as pale as death. I never see them outside of their bus during the day time. I also never see them eat. They only ever drink red wine. They don’t have reflections—”
“You’re making that up.”
“Maybe,” Gabe grins. “Butthey do have this strange, hypnotic power over the audience. When they play, they send everyone in the room into this wild frenzy. It’s delicious. Not even my rakishly good looks can compete with vampire magic.”
He tells me more about the tour as his skilled fingers work the knots out of my feet. I lay back in the plumped cushions and think about how lucky we are. I know it’s too much to believe I’ll be able to take things easy as the ruler of a criminal empire, but so far, everything is working out okay.
Tiberius went straight, if you can believe it. He and Ms. Drysdale moved to Scotland so Angel could attend a special school. They both teach at that school now and walk the stark, beautiful countryside on the weekends. Tiberius sends me selfies every now and then. I’ve never seen that monster look so happy.
Malloy Manor is ours, free and clear. After my soldier Selene at City Hall went through my DNA test and paperwork and determined I am indeed Howard Malloy’s daughter, his ill-gotten fortune was transferred to my coffers.
I gave all the money to Eli.
And Eli took that money and made something wonderful.
I offered to kill Walter Hart, but Eli didn’t want that. Instead, he made his dad Cali’s bitch – after all, bodies still need to be disposed of – and forced him to hand over the Everlasting Hart ranch. Eli transformed it from a dilapidated shithole into a first-class wildlife sanctuary. He now spends his days traveling up and down the country, buying mistreated animals from sideshows and private zoos and giving them a second chance at life. Some he’s able to rehabilitate and reintroduce to the wild, but those that can’t will live out their days in luxury at the ranch. The lion has a prairie to wander, the monkey an enormous enclosure. Even Casper is there, delighting visitors with his antics.
Not even Malloy Manor has escaped Eli’s ambition. We renovated the wing of guest bedrooms into a luxurious cat palace. Now, women who are fleeing domestic violence and other bad situations in Emerald Beach can house their cats indefinitely while we help them get to safety, and we also take in strays and abandoned animals and try to find them loving new homes. Eli and Yara run this part of the business. Most of the time, I think Eli’s happier pretending that the other side – the drug shipments, the nefarious deals Noah and I make on the daily – doesn’t exist.
Not me, though. I don’t want to deny who I am. I may not be related by blood, but IamJulian August’s daughter. I have his ruthless streak, his eye for business, his love of possessing beautiful, ancient, rare things. And I have Noah at my side, my loyal soldier. My tribune. I don’t need Eli to be someone he’s not.
“Claws.” Eli taps on the window. “I need a hand with these cages.”
“Sorry. Cat gravity.” I point to the two cats asleep in my lap.
Eli pokes his head through the doorway. “And what about you, Gabe? Your arms look like they work perfectly fine.”
“I’m doing important queen maintenance,” Gabriel murmurs as he slides his hand over my swollen foot, digging the pads of his fingers in just the right places to make me moan.
“I’ll help.” Yara appears at the corner of the garden and heads after Eli.
Yara’s been amazing. I offered her all the money and resources she needed to start a new life anywhere in the world, but she chose to stay here with me. She acts as my personal secretary, managing my spreadsheets and doing all the boring admin stuff I hate. She doesn’t like to get blood on her hands, but she’s a ruthless negotiator and a steady presence in any room.
Gabe casts his eyes to the champagne sitting in the ice bucket on top of the bar, which is now covered in a layer of dust since I can’t drink anymore. Gabe’s not drinking, either. He went into rehab as soon as we took back the city, conveniently missing all the hard work we had to put in to return peace to the streets and get the animal shelter running. It’s been a long road – Gabe’s had to dig deep into his past to deal with the issues that made him want to hide behind alcohol. He was terrified of therapy, thought that if he spilled his darkest feelings to a shrink, he’d have nothing left for his music. Instead, the opposite has been true. Now that he’s back and clean, he’s writing new music every day and his new songs… they’re amazing. They tell the rise and fall and rise of an empire in notes of pure pain and beauty. He’s captured everything perfectly, just as I knew he would.
But no new tours for a while yet. Gabriel Fallen is about to have his hands full as a new daddy. All the guys are.
