Page 27 of Marauding Daddies

“I so love that knife,” she smiled and sauntered closer. “I’ve had it since I was sixteen years old. This little baby,”—she tapped against the handle, ignoring the raw cry escaping from the trapped man— “is the weapon that perfected my knife-handling skills.”

“You’re gonna pay for this, bitch!”

Aria ignored the furious growl as she leaned against the wall. “Correction, fuckface, you’re the one trespassing, so in case you missed the dramatic play in progress, I’m afraid you’re the one in a compromising position. Not me.”

“Haha,” he laughed, but the pain from his impaled hand turned the sound brittle. “But am I, really?”

Aria followed his sideways glance by looking over her shoulder. “Ah, so I wasn’t seeing things. There are three of you.”

“What are you doing, Lester?” The tallest of the two shook his head as he took in the scene. “Ah, no, Principessa, I’m not taken in by a pretty face like Lester. I will shoot you, so I suggested you reach for the rafters. Up with those hands, I want to see your palms.”

Shrugging, Aria did as he instructed. For some reason, the guttural voice behind the ski mask had a familiar ring to it.

“You got me, boys. Wanna talk?” Although she complied, she didn’t relax the tension in her body or the focus on the three men. With the speed and agility that she had perfected over the past fifteen years, she knew she’d be able to disarm both men within the blink of an eye. Since she was curious as to who they were and what they were after, she chose not to act but played the docile little prey.

“Principessa?” Narrowing her eyes, she studied the bright blue eyes visible from the slit in the mask. “You called me Principessa. No one but the members of...” The words drifted off as reality struck. Only the Sanchigo Mafia soldiers called her Principessa, but since she hadn’t told anyone where she was, it worried her that they were here. Scouring her brain, she connected the dots until she finally managed to put a name to the face behind the mask.

“Dante Marino? Is that you?” Aria didn’t need confirmation. Now that she identified him, his entire stance and muscular frame were enough to know she was right.

He spread his arms with what looked like a broad smile. “The one and only.” With a brief glance at his cohorts, he snickered, “See, I told you she was the clever one in the family.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? For that matter, how the hell did you know where I was?”

“Your mother always knows where her children are,” Dante said with a shrug as he smiled grimly. “You’re the hardest to keep track of and have given me many headaches over the years.” He yanked off the mask. His lips pressed momentarily into a thin line before he continued, “Or do you honestly believe she doesn’t care?”

“She never has. To her, life consisted only of leisure, shopping, tea parties, and gambling. Me and the girls were raised by nannies, or did you conveniently forget about that?”

“Be that as it may, but perhaps you should remember that apart from all that, she was the wife of the most feared Mafia Don of all times. Fiorella Sanchigo learned from a young age to always have a backup plan.”

“Excuse my ignorance, but in this particular situation, and with my father dead, what backup plan does she even require? Yes, I was the only beneficiary on Papá’s will, but I gave her and my sisters more money than they would ever be able to spend—against his stipulations in the will, in case you forgot.”

“Money isn’t the only thing that matters. You forget, Principessa, money and power go hand-in-hand. If you want to make a difference, stand out in a crowd, and want to be taken seriously, you make sure you have the one with the other.” Another shrug lifted his shoulders. “She has spent her entire life in your and your father’s shadow, but she was clever enough to see the bigger picture. She knew, with all the outlandish acts your father did before his death, that the writing was on the wall. Why do you think she took all of you to Italy at the time?”

“I don't have time for a sermon, Dante. Just spit it out.” Aria felt a trickle of doom slither down her spine. “What does she want? She hasn’t spoken ten words to me since Dad was killed. She didn’t even attend his funeral, so why did she send you here?”

“She wants you back home. It's time for the Sanchigo Mafia group to embrace change. She needs your support.”

“Not until I have finished what I came here to do. Don’t get me wrong, I have every intention of taking over as leader, but only after—”

“You misunderstand, Principessa. It seems, like so many in the business, you also underestimate your mother. She doesn’t want you home as your father’s successor. Fiorella Sanchigo has already taken over the business. She is now the Comare, our Godmother, the leader of the Sanchigo Group.”

Aria struggled to comprehend what he was saying. Her mother was and had always been a spoiled, rich housewife. She had never mingled in Salvitore’s affairs and hardly paid attention to discussions involving the family business. It didn’t make sense. A lady of leisure like Fiorella Sanchigo didn’t care what her grown-up daughters did or where they went. That was how she had acted all these years. To now hear otherwise came as a surprise, a bitter pill she found hard to swallow.

“So, why does she need me? She has an underboss, advisors, lieutenants, and soldiers at her disposal. I have no interest in playing second fiddle to her as the master orchestrator, Marino, even less to be the one doing the work while she takes all the credit.”

“You’re assuming it’s a request, my dear Principessa. The Comare wants you home, and that’s exactly what’s going to happen. End of discussion.”

Aria cackled a witches’ laugh as she leisurely palmed two knives while clamping three ninja stars between her fingers of both hands.

“And I assume you’re gonna make me?”

“My preference would be for you to come willingly, but we’ve got a directive from Comare to get you back to Sicily by any means necessary... violence included.”

“Then I guess you’re about to suffer some extreme pain.” That said, the four ninja stars sailed through the air. Before either man could react, the sharp-bladed points cut deep into skin and muscle to embed themselves a half an inch from their carotid veins. “I suggest you don’t remove those until you’re at a hospital... just in case I nipped your artery. We all know what the result would be then, right?” She looked over her shoulder when the man behind her yanked out the knife that was imprisoning his hand to the wall. “I’ll leave you intact... well, somewhat,” she said as she pointedly looked at the blood dripping from the open wound in his palm. “One of you needs to be able to drive to the hospital.” With a haughty air, she looked at Dante.

“I will be home when I’m good and ready. Mamá knows better than anyone that I never leave a mission unfinished. Once I achieve my goal, I’ll be on the first plane back to Sicily.”

“Comare isn’t going to be happy about this, Principessa. She has just lost her husband, and she refuses to lose her oldest child. Besides, since she was Don Salvitore’s wife, she believes taking revenge for his death is her responsibility, not yours.”

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