The Favorite: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance (The Syndicate's Revenge Book 2)

by Mara McQueen

  She didn't plot and crave the role of Crown Princess. She accepted it and, if Raiden wasn't mistaken, was a bit scared of the idea.

  Raiden didn't blame her. If she knew exactly what was coming, she'd probably be terrified. But she couldn't know and he couldn't tell her.

  Because he wanted her safe even if she'd hate him.

  "Have you thought about when you want to take the crown, Raiden?" the King asked, and Raiden hated the hopeful tone. His parents couldn't wait to get rid of their status and heave it on his shoulders.

  He hadn't thought about it. He'd been planning and obsessing over it for a year. He needed to strike at the right moment and make it count.

  He narrowed his eyes at the black and gold crown on top of the King’s head. One day, Raiden would carry its weight, but not today.

  "Our schedules will be full for the next few weeks," he said with all the charm that had been trained into him. Nobody could suspect his insane plan. "First the wedding ceremonies, then the coronation. Give our Brothers and Sisters some time off between formal dinners."

  "How come you didn't invite the Syndicate girl to join us for this one, Your Highness?" Dima asked, his bright beady eyes gloating.

  They were like sharks, these two. Raiden was going to love watching their heads roll at his feet.

  "Why would I? Who cares what she does with her time?" he lied.

  Raiden cared. He cared way too much.

  He would have rather watched Ava sleep than be here. But he hadn't invited her because he was not letting these two snakes near her—and because Ava was learning how to become a Crown Princess right at this moment. May the gods help her.

  Chapter Ten

  AVA

  "Who is coming?" Ava dashed around her new room, trying to find something decent to wear.

  She'd overslept. To be fair, she hadn't known she had an appointment today. A big one, apparently.

  "The best etiquette instructor in all the Capital, Your Grace. Your future lady-in-waiting," Rossen said from the doorway, back turned. His face had reddened the moment Ava had jumped out of bed, wearing nothing but underwear and the one lone T-shirt she'd found in her monster of a closet.

  The Capital was hot and humid. Fine during the day, excruciating at night. Her body hadn't gotten used to not shivering every evening.

  "And she's already here, waiting in the parlor room," Rossen said.

  Of course she was. "Tell her I'll be right out."

  Ava was going to be late for her first meeting with an etiquette instructor. Fucking fantastic.

  So the Capital thought she needed manner lessons. She tried not to let the idea sting too much. Ava really didn't know how this city worked. She'd take all the help she got.

  If she could find her clothes in this mausoleum posing as a bedroom. Her entire room was bigger than the cabin back home. It was large and echoey, no matter how many pieces of fine furniture had been stuffed into it. But the bed. The ginormous bed that felt like a cloud was all Ava's. For now, she thought with a hesitant grin. The wedding was getting closer and Raiden would be moving in. Tick tock. The black and golden sheets, though, those she didn't like.

  She managed to find a dress in her millions of closets and grabbed the first pair of shoes she got her hands on. Red and gold. Again.

  She ran a brush through her hair to at least try and tame it, for once wishing it wasn't so long. That was, of course, insane.

  Ava loved exactly one thing about the way she looked—her dark, glossy, waist-length hair. Raiden seemed to like touching it, too.

  With one hasty look in the mirror—"you look...presentable"—she ran out of the room, down the endless corridors, through so many doors she lost count.

  Her new house was built like a labyrinth and Ava had already gotten lost in it. Twice. It felt more like a cold fortress than a cozy home.

  She squared her shoulders and opened the final door, hoping this was the parlor.

  "Sorry I'm late," she said, a bit out of breath, then stilled.

  An entire line of people greeted her. Half a dozen Brotherhood members, all staring at her. Five of them were carrying intricately carved boxes, one bigger than the next.

  Before them stood a blonde, cherub-faced woman who smiled like she meant it.

  "Your Grace, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Marcella. It's an honor to become your lady-in-waiting," she said.

  This was the instructor? This woman who seemed more like a ray of sunshine than a stern professor? Ava had been expecting a tight bun, a thick ruler, and a stern look, and she got smiles instead?

  And goddamned kneeling. Again. From all of them, with Marcella leaning down the farthest.

  "Please, don't," Ava said before she could stop herself. She'd had enough of pomp and circumstance and Marcella was the friendliest face she'd seen in the Capital. She actually wanted to keep on seeing her, not the nape of her neck.

  Marcela frowned, but quickly recovered. "Your Grace, may I ask you something?"

  God, yes. Nobody but Raiden had until now. Ava had been dying to have a normal conversation. "Sure. Anything. Go ahead."

  Calm down. She gets it.

  "When you become ruler, you swear to give your life for the Clan and each one of its members," Marcella said. "Will you?"

  "Yes," Ava said, confident for the first time since coming here.

  Whether she was ready for it or not, the moment she'd become the Brotherhood Crown Princess, she'd be responsible for countless lives. When she promised something, she stuck to it. She'd been a casualty of bad leadership—may her grandfather, father, mother, and uncle rest in peace, of course. She wanted to break that cycle.

  "You will take our enemies' lives, have blood on your hands and nightmares at night for the rest of your days," Marcella went on with that same smile, which was getting a little creepy right about now. "You will be haunted and you will sacrifice so the rest of us won't have to. We will go on with our normal lives, with our carefree children, knowing you will protect us and them. The least we can do is kneel. It’s tradition."

  Ava fidgeted on the spot. Well, when she put it like that…

  "Let's start, shall we?" Marcella snapped her fingers and the line of people split up, each of them dashing to a corner of the room.

  "Wait." Ava had never had guests over and she wanted to do it right. She turned to the door. "Rossen, could you bring in some snacks for the ladies? Some of those purple cakes, too."

  Marcella blinked. "You don't have to—"

  She did. They'll soon see she wasn't Crown Princess material, the least she could do was make a good first impression.

  Ava rolled her shoulders back and raised her chin. That's what Crown Princesses did when they wanted people to listen to them, right? "I insist."

  Marcella's grin widened. "Very well, then."

  Ava had a feeling she was going to like this Marcella.

  If Ava stretched her right leg two inches to the left, she could trip Marcella. At least make her tight curls bounce a bit.

  Ava rubbed her eyes, willing the image away. She was getting delirious from the hours of etiquette training.

  Marcella really wasn't that bad. She was just doing her job—which was brutal on Ava.

  The woman was a drill sergeant disguised as an angel.

  "Your Grace, please pay attention," Marcella said as politely sternly as she could.

  "I have been paying attention." But her brain had turned to mush right around the moment they'd begun dissecting the royal family tree. Who named their twin sons Plymouth and Pumpernickel?

  "Then you can talk me through the first ceremony." Marcella crossed her hands behind her back, waiting patiently.

  Ava sighed again. She'd been doing that a lot for the past six—seven?—hours.

  First ceremony, because why just have one wedding celebration and be done with it? No, no, the Brotherhood needed to have a pre-ceremony, to let the entire Capital know another one was on the way.

  You had a rehears
al dinner.

  Ava's heart gave a bitter echo. Everyone had been so happy that night. None of them had suspected the massacre. She didn't even know who had survived, apart from her cousins. Was Bianca okay? Lord, Ava hoped so. She'd asked Bianca to take care of the wedding book, maybe she had time to escape.

  Ava swallowed the memories down and straightened, feeling all the knots in her shoulders.

  "In three days, I will make my official debut in the Capital—" Even though she'd been walking around it, for everyone to see, for days. Now she'd have all those eyes on her again. At the same time. The. Joy. "—and Raiden will place the crown on top of my head, officially naming me as the new member of the royal family."

  "Without touching you."

  Yes, heaven forbid her future husband would touch a hair on her head before exchanging rings. Ava almost—almost—rolled her eyes. "Without touching—wait. How small is this crown?"

  Because the ones she'd seen in books and movies were massive. Would she get a crank in her neck and sway on the spot for everyone to see?

  Marcella snapped her fingers. Two of the other ladies swooped to her side, each opening their box.

  Ava sucked in a breath. "That's—that's my crown?"

  "Will be," Marcella said, sounding pleased.

  Ava approached the first box slowly, mesmerized. The crown was beyond beautiful and unlike any she'd ever seen. Tall and ending in seven perfect little spires. Made out of white gold, with pearls all over it, cascading down in two threads that would hug her face.

  Ava didn't care all that much about stuff, but if she had to wear an accessory for the rest of her life—aside from the Syndicate locket with her parents' pictures, which she'd never taken off since grandpa Baron had given it to her—she was happy it was this perfect one.

  "Wow," Ava breathed out and glanced at the second box. She deflated instantly. "Is that one for the weekends?"

  The other crown was...well, it wasn't ugly, but nothing compared to the white one. It was made out of a kind of metal that looked almost copper, like it couldn't decide if it wanted to be gold or red. It was short and stubby and looked like it had barely escaped a fire and just...no.

  Marcella grimaced and waved off her concerns. "That's a relic you don't need to worry about. But you have to learn a lot of new information and I'm very thorough."

  Ava laughed. "Yeah, I can tell."

  Marcella's shoulders shimmied a bit. "Then in the interest of thoroughness, I can tell you that back in the day, the royal family could have more than one spouse. Because of heirs and marriage alliances and all that. The favorite got the pearls, the others got the metal."

  Ava raised her brows. "How far back? Am I going to have two father-in-laws?"

  "Oh, no, no. The royal family abandoned that practice after Queen Amira's five husbands incinerated the palace while they argued over who she loved most. Then King Gregory—"

  "Amira's nephew." Ava grinned. "I was listening."

  "Yes, very good." Marcella nodded. "Anyway, King Gregory's three wives poisoned each other, then him. The Brotherhood figured enough was enough after that."

  Thank God, because Ava was starting to get worried. Her marriage contract didn't say anything about other spouses—it had a damn cheating clause.

  "Now, we need to talk about clothing." Marcella went back into drill sergeant mode. "I'm sure you've noticed we prefer big, bold colors. None of those watered-down pastels for the Brotherhood—"

  "Isn't it time for a break?" a deep, amused voice cut Marcella off.

  Ava whirled around as everyone else bowed around her.

  The Prince had arrived. In a good mood, too, all careless, open grins. He'd been acting like that a lot lately. Whenever he dropped by unannounced to bring her another family heirloom that now, somehow, belonged to her, or when they met out on the Capital streets, which happened a lot lately.

  Ava's heart did a little flip. They hadn't seen each other in two days. Had she missed him? Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

  "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Ava asked pompously before grinning. "See, getting more imperious by the day."

  "Then I need to match, don't I?" Raiden tilted his head to the side, laughter in his eyes. "Would the lady accompany me for an outing?"

  Butterflies, an entire kaleidoscope of them, fluttered in her stomach. "No guards?"

  Raiden raised his brows. Ava liked this playful side of him. "No. Just you and me."

  Ava licked her lips. She knew she'd be spending the rest of her life with Raiden, but she wanted to know everything about him. Right now. Being alone with him sounded...nice. Better than nice. It made her excited and giddy and like she wanted to feel his hands all over her and—

  Ava shook her head. They had an audience. "Where to?"

  "Ah. That's a secret." He took out a piece of green silk from behind his back. "Do you trust me?"

  Chapter Eleven

  RAIDEN

  "If you're taking me to a firing squad, you really shouldn't have bothered with all the bells and whistles," Ava said, following Raiden hesitantly. Her left hand kept jumping to the silk scarf covering her eyes, her right firmly grasping his fingers. "The suspense will probably kill me by then."

  Raiden laughed low in his throat, guiding them further down the rocky path. She was apprehensive—he felt it in every twitch of her palm, every shallow breath—but she didn't back out.

  Clan courage, that, even though she'd never admit it.

  Raiden leaned down and whispered in her ear, "You'll like this surprise."

  Ava gulped, a delicious blush spreading up her neck.

  Ever since she'd come into his life, Raiden hadn't been sure of anything when it came to her. Was she an innocent pawn in the Clan game or a vicious schemer biding her time until he let his guard down?

  Raiden still wasn't sure, but he knew he liked spending time with her.

  After a lifetime of knowing what he'd do or where he'd be every waking moment, the thrill of not knowing what she'd do or say next was intoxicating.

  "Careful." He picked her up by the waist when they stumbled across a deeper trench. Ava's gauzy Crown Princess dress fit her just right, but it wasn't all that helpful for where they were going.

  She felt good in his arms. He liked the way her hands coiled around his shoulders on instinct. Her little surprised gasp. He didn't want to let her go, but if someone saw them, him carrying her around would raise questions. The dangerous kind.

  As soon as her feet touched the ground again, Ava raised her nose high, sniffing. A huge grin split her face. "I remember that smell."

  "Are you sure you're not an assassin hiding in plain sight?" There she went again, making him wonder. She had the senses of a killer and the face of an innocent.

  "Mountain life, remember?" Her head whipped around. She was giddy and she obviously didn't care who knew. "No city pollution frying up my nose."

  If only her upbringing could explain everything. Explain her.

  They passed the fence and stopped in front of a small wooden building.

  Raiden opened the door as silently as he could, already grinning like an idiot. Her excitement was contagious.

  He stepped behind her, loving the way she trembled for the briefest moment when his fingers tangled in her hair. How she leaned into his touch.

  "No peeking." He undid the scarf knot, fingers lingering on the nape of her neck.

  "Yes, Sir." She even gave him an army salute.

  Raiden swallowed his groan. He liked the sound of that. This woman was undoing him without even trying.

  "Okay," he whispered in her hair. "Open your eyes."

  Good thing he decided on bringing her to this secluded spot at night, when all the caretakers had already gone home, because her gasp ricocheted all around them.

  "No way. No way!" Ava bounced into the stable and didn't stop until she reached her precious white mare, Azor.

  She threw her arms around the horse's neck, burrowing her face in its luxurious mane.<
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  Raiden laughed. It had been a pain to find Azor, then negotiate with its new owners—stingy little creatures who'd almost become millionaires off of selling the horse back—then have it shipped to the Capital in as much luxury as an animal could hope for. But it had been worth it to see the smile on Ava's face.

  It was tradition to give your future spouse a gift before marriage. Ava hadn't liked the clothes. Or the house.

  Ironically, the only thing that had gotten her excited had been the favorite's crown, which Raiden couldn't give to her. Yet.

  Until Ava had mentioned Azor, he'd been clueless what gift she'd love. What could you possibly give a woman who seemed like she didn't want anything?

  Happiness, that's what. Raiden planned on doing just that before he'd be forced to break all of Ava's hope and trust in him.

  "I've missed you, too. Oh, yes, I did." She kissed Azor's snout, rubbing her cheeks in its mane. The horse seemed just as thrilled, neighing and beating its hoofs against the ground like an excited puppy. Maybe this Azor would like to meet Raiden's own horse, Shinzan; cause some trouble together. "And I'm never, ever letting you go now."

  Ava looked back at Raiden with a big, open smile. Happy tears were crowding the corners of her eyes.

  "Thank you," she whispered, chin wobbling. "Thank you so much."

  Raiden's heart did an uncomfortable flip. "You're welcome. Now let's let Azor sleep—"

  "Oh, no. We've both been cooped up for a year." She grabbed Azor's bridle, pulling it out of the stable.

  Raiden raised his brows at Ava's ridiculous shoes and dress. "You can't be serious."

  She winked at him over her shoulder. Minx. "Watch me."

  She kicked off her golden platforms.

  "At least wait until we put a saddle on it," Raiden said.

  "We didn't have a saddle back home. And Azor is a her, thank you very much, and she will be addressed as such."

  Before Raiden got one more word out, Ava hiked up her dress, grabbed the bridle like she'd done it a million times before, and hoisted herself up on Azor. She closed her eyes and sighed happily.