Page 5 of Mafia Princess

I push off the wall and give him the filthiest glare I can muster as I strut past him, putting a little extra sway in my hips and waltz back to our table. I seat myself calmly in my seat and breathe slowly to dissipate my brewing anger. My fingers close around my champagne flute, a solid reminder of the life I’m about to be sold into. A life of being seen as an accessory, glittering, and shining next to my husband.

“Maya.” Milan catches my attention. He almost looks sorry for me as he slides across the chairs until he is sitting close to me.

“What?” I throw down the whole glass of expensive champagne. Fuck, if I need a drink each time he speaks to me, I’ll be an alcoholic by the end of the week.

“Cheer up, Principessa. You could do worse.” He pats my hand and I snatch it away from him.

I shoot him an icy glare, one to rival the infamous Ice Man. “Get over yourself.” I stand and trudge off towards the lobby.

I sense Milan following close behind, but I ignore him. I swing the lobby door open and hope it hits him in the face.

“Maya, slow down.” He growls, grabbing my hand and stopping me dead in my tracks.

I spin on the spot and yank my hand from his. “Give me some fucking space.”

He holds his own up in surrender. “Jesus, one would think I’m about to kidnap you.” Milan narrows his eyes at me.

“Pretty much the same thing, if you ask me.”

He slides his dark eyes over me, and I can see the appreciative glint as his gaze connects with mine.

“Like what you see? Take a long hard look because you can fuck off if you think I’m taking part in any prehistoric wedding night Mafia ritual bullshit.”

He takes a leering step and towers over me. “I won’t be the one begging for it.” His eyes turn to slits as his true character shines.

“As I said before, get the fuck over yourself.”

“Principessa, back chatting will get you nowhere.” He grabs my wrist just before my fist can connect with his face. “You like it rough do you?”

“Is there a problem, Maya?” A sweet, melodic voice interrupts us, and Summer waltzes up next to me.

My eyes dart to Milan as he drops my wrist and I throw him a snarky grin, knowing all too well the bad blood between his family and the Russo’s.

“Hi, I’m Summer.” She extends her hand to Milan.

“I know who you are.” His eyebrows furrow and he clears his throat before taking her hand and gently shaking it. His eyes dart past us searching the lobby.

“He’s in the dining hall.” Summer loops her arm around mine. “If you were looking for Enzo, that is.”

“I’ll see you later.” Milan’s eyes dart from me to Summer and back, his interest obviously changing direction. He throws me a shit-eating grin before he turns and strides back through the doors.

“What are you doing here?” I pull Summer into me and wrap my arms around her shoulders.

“You know how it is. Apparently, Enzo’s attendance would cause a stir. So, here we are.” She pulls back and eyes my t-shirt, her perfect eyebrow cocked in amusement.

“I guess I was stirring as well.” I curtsy.

Summer laughs. “I approve,”

“Is Luca here?” My heart thrums in my chest. If Papa knew I was banging the Russo cousin, he’d most likely go on a killing rampage.

“No, he’s not. He’s holding down the fort back in Providence.”

I let out a sharp breath, glad he’s not here to give us away. “Here comes your lover boy.”

Enzo, with his ever so broody scowl, approaches us and wraps his arm around Summer’s waist.

“Nice of you to join us.” I roll my eyes at him.

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