Page 32 of Mafia Princess

I try to push Luca away from me, fearful of watching eyes. “Fuck. You can’t be here.”

“Don’t break my heart, babycakes.” He pouts and kisses my forehead. “Don’t stress. We’re all here-Summer included.”

I look up at him. “I’m so fucking confused right now.”

“You look so fucking beautiful right now.”

He melts my cold heart just enough to appreciate the compliment. “I didn’t see any of you during dinner.”

“That’s because you looked as though you were going to murder anyone who looked sideways at you. If you’re going to play the happy fiancé, you need to smile now and again.” He squeezes my waist. “Come on, let’s go dance.”

“No, we can’t. People will talk.” I look up at him alarmed.

“Fuck it. Let them talk.” He grabs my hand and leads me inside, letting go of my hand as soon as we step over the threshold.

I feel the eyes of the guests pinpricking every exposed inch of my skin, their stares judging, and gossiping. Luca doesn’t give two shits, so I follow him through the tables and guests to the dance floor. He grabs my hand and twirls me into him as Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin starts to play. He pulls me into his hard body and presses a possessive hand lower than acceptable for two acquaintances on my back.

“Luca,” I growl up at him and try to pull us apart a little.

“Stop fucking stressing. Your fiancé is busy chatting up that blond waitress over there.” He spins us so I can have a look.

An unexpected and unwanted sinking feeling hits the pit of my stomach. A dreaded feeling that confuses the fuck out of me. Am I jealous? Holy fuck balls, I’m jealous. We begin to waltz around the dancefloor as other couples gawk at us.

“You’re awfully quiet there, babycakes,” Luca chuckles. “Are you jealous of the waitress?” He twirls us so we’re out of earshot of other couples.

I shoot him an icy glare, only because he hit the nail on the head. “For some fucking unknown reason, I am,” I groan.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. It’s only human nature. I mean, I’d fuck him if I was into that shit.” Luca winks down at me, trying to lighten my mood.

“I’ve got a confession. You know, the no lies between us and all that.” I look up at him from under my lashes, hoping and praying he’s not in one of his psycho moods.

“Go on.” His hand presses harder against my lower back, staking his claim.

I lean up so my mouth is closer to his neck. “He got me off with a knife handle and I feel like fucking shit about it.” My heart stammers in my chest.

Luca is silent for what seems like an eternity. “That’s fucking hot,” he finally replies, a mischievous grin appearing from ear to ear. He nods in approval as his mind plays out the scene.

“Oh my god, I don’t deserve you. Why are you so okay with everything?” I let out a breath in relief.

“That’s just how my DNA is made. I’m all for this, but if he steps out of line, I will kill him.” He spins us again and we join the main dance space.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Dante smiling wickedly at me. “May I have this dance?”

“Why certainly, sir.” Luca spins me under his arm so I dance into Dante’s embrace, bowing to us before he leaves the dancefloor.

“Oh my god, he’s such a clown,” I laugh and realize it’s the first time I’ve truly been happy today.

“You better not break that clown's heart, Principessa. You know he’s fucking madly in love with you.” Dante stares down at me. He’s not as good a dancer as his cousin, but his grip on my waist is ten times tighter.

Too late. I think I just did. My heart thuds rapidly in my chest in reaction to his words. I stare up at him, not knowing how to answer. I knew this thing between Luca and I was more than just fucking. We don’t discuss anything to do with feelings; we take it day by day, always being stupid together and never serious. I felt the same about him-I still do-from the moment I saw him at that dumb charity auction. I knew my heart was his. But now, it is betraying both of us.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I whisper, hoping Dante understands the weight of my words.

“I’d kill for my family.” We spin on the spot, not moving anywhere on the dancefloor.

“As would I.” I squeeze his hand to drive my point.

“I fucking hope someone comes and saves us from this dance soon.” His face twists. He’s obviously not enjoying this. It’s comical.

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