But then he stops.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He’s staring at someone, and when the man turns, I recognize him as Zayn Mansur. The new Governor of New York. Being ushered from his car to the entrance.
He and Manuel lock eyes on his way past. Mansur’s lips quirk, and he gives Ivory a subtle nod.
And then he’s gone.
“He issomuch hotter than Russo could ever be,” Ren swoons.
“It’s not difficult to be hotter than Russo,” Byron grumbles.
“Yea, but Mansurisfine,” Will joins. “We’re all obsessed with him.”
I feel my man stiffening at my side, so I slip my fingers between his and drop a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Te amo, Diablo,” I whisper.
And it loosens him up exponentially. I love that I’m able to do it.
That I’m the only one who gets him this way… ThatIwas the one to bring El Diablo to his knees.
The villain ismine, and now we’re a real couple, out in the real world, doingrealthings. The real power is inliving.
Of course, we’re not normal at all, and there will always be tension, being in love with the leader of the cartel. He’s the antihero, and a life will him comes with more drama than I could quantify. But I can finally admit that it’s what I’ve always wanted.
He was right; we’re not meant for normal. And I love it.
What’s the good without a little evil, anyway?
It turns out I got my revenge. Because this little bird reigns over The Ivory now.
And inourkingdom, we share the throne.
El Diablo and his pajarito.
Sitting in the orchestra box, I’m up in my head while we await the start of the show.
I can’t believe Mansur is here.Since when do governors attend random plays in the city?
Could be a publicity move…
Showing up to support the son of the late governor he was obviously going to beat if he hadn’t died. The person whom he’s now going to great lengths to investigate, uprooting everything the dead prick spent decades putting into place.
No matter. These things don’t affect me, so I’m not concerned. Especially now that Alabaster Penitentiary is no more, and the board has been dismantled.
Still, I’m so deep in my thoughts that I barely notice the show has started until music startles me.
“Are you okay?” Angel whispers in my ear, and I nod.
But when he goes to pull away, I slip my hand onto his thigh, hoping to keep him close.
I need his proximity right now. It’s the only thing that truly pacifies me; quells the endless stresses of my life.
The show gets started, and Michelangelo is a revelation. The kid is truly talented, and I’m awed by his performance. Still, it’snot quite enough to draw me away from the tasty little snack sitting next to me.
Mi pajarito, who smells like fresh gardenia and sugar cookies.
