Zacharias was wearing black again–his signature. Pressed, clean, and commanding. The man looked like he owned the world, even with healing scars beneath that perfectly tailored suit.
And the way he looked at me?
Goodness!
If a man could brand a woman with just his stare, I’d have “Velenzi” scorched into every inch of me.
I sat beside him in the glass–walled boardroom, my legs crossed, lipstick sharp, and composure wrapped around me like a mink coat. The board of Colombo Holdings–twelve men in three–piece arrogance–looked like they were trying to decide if they should be impressed or threatened.
He didn’t hesitate. He never did.
“This is Scarlett Royce Colombo,” Zacharias said with that velvet–knife tone of his. “She will act as my co–chair until I’m back in full capacity. Any decisions she makes, I stand behind. Any disrespect thrown her way, you answer to me.”
Silence.
A few choked coughs. One old fossil cleared his throat.
“But, sir… she hasn’t exactly handled corporate-”
Zacharias raised one brow, and I swear the temperature dropped five degrees.
“She handled me,” he said, slow and clear. “When no one else would.”
I didn’t even blink. ! just smiled. A tilt of my head, a flash of teeth, like a panther -lounging in a silk dress.
The meeting adjourned quickly after that.
By the time we got back into the penthouse, the media had already started its storm. My phone lit up with headlines:
THE BLACK QUEEN OF COLOMBO
WHO IS SCARLETT ROYCE–COLOMBO?
ZACHARIAS‘ WIFE TAKES THE THRONE
I stood by the window, sipping my espresso as the city bled into twilight, and Zacharias walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
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“You handled them better than I ever did,” he murmured into my neck.
I tilted my head back. “They looked like they wanted to strangle me with their ties.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” he chuckled. “You looked like sin in Dior.”
I laughed low, then turned in his arms. “You trust me with your empire?”
“I trust you with my life,” he whispered. “This empire is nothing compared to what you gave me back.”
His words. His gaze. His hands.
It was dangerous–how sincere he was.
I kissed him, slow and deep, with the kind of hunger that had nothing to do with power and everything to do with claiming.
But somewhere, far across the city-
Alina was watching.
She saw the headline too.
Saw the boardroom photo. My hand on his chest. His gaze on my lips.
And just like clockwork, she stirred.
***
The Gala of Resurrection
The Royce–Colombo gala was not a party. It was an event written in silk and gold, dressed in envy, and perfumed in power.
The moment I stepped out of the limousine with Zacharias’s hand clasped firmly in mine, the crowd outside the London Royal Pavilion turned rabid with flashes.
Paparazzi bulbs strobed like war, but I didn’t flinch.
I wore blood–red. Not burgundy. Not wine. Blood.
A custom Fioresca gown slit high enough to command the floor and corseted tight enough to make sins out of stares. Diamond–studded straps wrapped around my shoulders like I was carved out of vengeance and victory. Zacharias, beside me, looked like every inch of death and dynasty. A jet–black tux tailored to sin, slicked–back hair, dark eyes like he’d step on glass for me if I asked with a smile.
He leaned down as we ascended the crimson–lit stairs into the hall. His breath grazed my cheek. “I feel like I married a goddess of ruin.”
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I smirked. “And you’ve never looked so devout.”
He kissed the corner of my jaw, slow, claiming.
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Inside the ballroom, we became the axis of the universe. Chandeliers dripped with crystals. Classical music wound around marble pillars. The crowd parted, whispers rippling like silk thrown into fire.
“That’s her.”
“The wife.”
“She’s the one who took care of him through the coma…”
“She runs part of Colombo Holdings now.”
“Shit, she’s unreal in that dress–look at that waist…”
“I heard she came from the Royce bloodline. A scandalous one…”
“Still. I’d kill to be in her place.”
“That’s Zacharias Colombo, and she has his name. His empire. His mouth.”
I could taste the envy thick in the air. Girls in shimmering gowns watched me like they wanted to unzip my skin and step into it.
Men watched me like they knew they couldn’t afford the damage. We glided through the crowd. Zacharias kept his hand on my lower back like he wanted the whole room to know: mine.
Then the music shifted–something older, sweeping, laced with violins and vintage ghosts.
Zacharias turned to me, offering his hand. “Dance with me. Let them all remember who this night is for.”
I took it, smiling with the kind of fire that had no mercy. The lights dimmed as we stepped onto the dance floor.
He pulled me in, slow, his palm pressing against the small of my back. His eyes locked with mine as we moved–flawless, synchronized, like we’d done this in another lifetime.
“You have this effect on me,” he murmured.
“What effect?”
“This… addiction. Obsession. I wake up wanting to kiss your shoulders before I even remember who I am.”
Llaughed, breathless. “Careful, darling. That’s dangerous talk.”
He leaned down, brushing my lips with his. “Then danger’s where I belong.”
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We twirled past a group of women clutching their champagne too tightly. One of them whispered–loud enough for it to reach me:
“Winston Salerno or Zacharias Colombo?”
“The Eastside prince or the black king of empires?”
“I’d let Colombo ruin my entire bloodline.”
I didn’t break stride. Just smiled sharper.
But the second I turned to the right-
She was there.
Alina.
Wearing the near–exact gown I wore to the first gala I ever attended beside Zacharias. Ivory silk, plunging neckline, same hand–beaded details. The difference? It didn’t wear her. She wore it like a challenge. And beside her… Winston.
Winston in his navy velvet suit, jaw set tight, hands behind his back. It was the first time I’d seen him since the wedding.
Our eyes locked.
His gaze flickered down my body–slow, stunned. Then back to my face. He looked… wrecked.
Like every inch of me reminded him of what he threw away. Alina notieed.
Of course she did.
She snapped her head toward him, voice slicing through the music like ice dipped in poison.
“You’re staring again.”
