Page 19 of Mafia Princess

From her expression, that was not the answer she had been expecting. I don’t hide my desires, but I certainly do not make them public knowledge. And I know from the lick of her lips she is churning over my words and mentally picturing them.

“You’re serious?” She swallows.

“Deadly.”

She pauses and contemplates my orders.

“We’re at your dorm rooms.” The doors unlock and she is free to escape me. Never did I think I could make Maya Capelli uncomfortable. “Not up for the challenge, babycakes?” I use the pet name I overheard while her fuckbuddy rammed his dick in her ass.

“Good night, Milan.” She throws me one last death glare before folding herself elegantly out of the car.

I watch her saunter up the path, a little sway with each step, and wonder what the fuck I have got myself into.

EIGHT

Maya

I can feel the weight of ridiculous expectations crushing my shoulders. The absurd mixed with the downright ludicrous. I roll onto my right side, forgetting the scuffle the other night at the bar in Hartford. Pain shoots down my entire leg and I wonder if I’ve done some serious damage. It’s been days since I’ve heard from Luca, he hasn’t contacted me and I’ve gone out of my way not to text him. I’m not sure of Milan’s motives, let alone whether he keeps his word.

I run my finger over my fresh tattoo. An addition to my roman numeral tally. Three down, two to go. Visions of a private hell, now long over, play in the back of my mind. The hollow screams turning into garbled groans still haunt me, I hear them every time I close my eyes. My secrecy serves as a breeding ground for vengeance. I put on my public persona like I put on my clothes in the morning.

Always playing the part. Always seeking revenge.

I can’t relax in my bed and decide to get my lazy ass up and make my favorite breakfast to get myself out of my funk. When Mason and I were little, our mom would make us pancakes with sprinkles mixed into the batter. Sometimes, she would use star sprinkles or little car-shaped sprinkles. It’s one of the few fond memories I have of our childhood, back in the days before she would disappear and come back covered in purple bruises. I shake away the memories and focus on gathering my ingredients. Just as I’m about to pour the first scoop into the frypan, a hard thumping sound vibrates through the entry door.

“Hold up!” I shout as I place everything on the bench and go to answer the door. Without thinking, I unlatch the chain and yank the door open in annoyance.

Bad. Fucking. Decision.

Three balaclava-clad fuckers charge me, knocking me on my ass before I can even blink. I land heavily onto my right leg and swallow the groan that tries to escape. The last fucker through the door closes it behind him and stands guard with a handgun pointed at me. Before I can get to my feet, I’m hauled off the ground by my hair, the pain excruciating. I twist as I’m pulled up and land a closed fist into the bastard's jaw. He yanks my hair harder, pulling me into him.

I feel a hard blow to my stomach and the air gushes out of me, winding me instantly. I swing my knee up and try to connect with his balls but miss and manage to knee his thigh.

“Restrain her,” the one at the door orders. His thick Irish accent has my ears pricking up.

I’m twisted and held against a rock-hard chest before I can try to maneuver myself out of his grip, my arms held tight behind my back. For good measure the third fucker punches me in the ribs and I sag forward, coughing up what feels like my lungs.

“Who the fuck are you?” I rasp as I grapple the bastard's legs and try to take him down. He doesn’t fucking move and I don’t know why I even thought I could get the massive prick to buckle; his arms are the size of my waist.

“Tell your brother we are waiting for payment. Next time, we won’t be so lenient.” The one holding the gun lunges forward and pistol whips me across the cheek.

I spit my blood at him. There’s something in his tone, in the melodic twang of his accent that sounds familiar. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to place his voice. His green orbs stare back at me, studying me, and there’s nothing but hostility behind them.

“Tell him yourself.” I snort the blood back up my nose, making an unladylike noise, pool it in my mouth, and spit it in his face.

He shakes his head at me. “They said you should be handling the family business. You’ve got the balls, pretty little princess.” He taps me on the nose.

I don’t see the fist coming at me, I just feel the sharp crack, and then nothing.

_ _ _

Rap.

Rap.

Rap.

Is that the beat of my heart in my head or a ticking clock?

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