Page 62 of Mafia Princess

“You always did have the best aim,” I say and glance at Tristan.

“Everyone back in the car.” Papa tries to avoid the obvious questions I’m about to bombard him with.

“Storm and Midnight are coming with us.” I whistle to them, and as much as Rico tries to control them, they break loose from his grip and come sit beside me.

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Papa frowns at me and the mess I’ve made of my dress.

“Come on girls, in the car.” I lead them to the door and tell them to sit on the seat next to me.

I watch Papa jump on his phone to organize the clean-up before he reluctantly climbs into the car with me and the girls. Storm naturally growls as soon as he sits but I hush her with a scratch behind the ears.

Mason climbs in and seats himself next to Papa. “What the hell was that crazy bitch talking about?” Mason glares at Papa.

“Nothing to be concerned about. She obviously had a thing for Milan or was ill.” Papa leaves his explanation at that. End of conversation.

“I’ve known her for a while now, I don’t think she was ill, Papa.” I try to get his attention but he’s too busy shooting texts off to God knows who. “Papa,” I say louder and get him to look at me. “What did she mean by they don’t care who puts a ring on your finger?”

“Sweetheart, I have no idea what that delusional girl was talking about. She was obviously jealous of you and wanted to harm you. End of story. Can we move on now and get this wedding over with?” His attention returns to his phone.

“What the hell am I going to tell Summer and Amber. Fuck,” I groan as the bodies around me slowly start tallying up. Now I know what Luca meant when he said he doesn’t have enough skin to mark his victories.

“The truth.” Mason shrugs.

“The truth.” I mimic him and laugh.

Maybe Emma’s crazy was catchy because I’m starting to feel like my world is spinning out of my control and there’s no one in the driver’s seat anymore. I’m dying for another Marlboro but I wouldn’t ever smoke with my babies in the same confined space.

“I love you.” I scratch them behind the ears and kiss their faces as the driver closes in on our destination.

TWENTY - TWO

Maya

Standing out the front of St Patrick’s Cathedral with its large double doors open, inviting me in, and the New York traffic buzzing past, I hear my name being called over the noise of the cars passing. I turn toward the person and spot a dozen paparazzi all lined up behind the red rope, trying to get the best photograph. I smile at them and wonder if this is my life now.

“You look beautiful, my girl. Your mom is here in spirit, always watching over you.” Papa holds his arm out for me to take.

I look at him, like really look at him, and wonder what is going through his head at this moment. I wonder if he thought this was how he was going to give his daughter away. I guess in this lifestyle, nothing is normal, and every day is savored as we’re not guaranteed it.

“Thanks, Papa.” I link my arm in his and lean up to kiss his cheek.

Midnight whines next to me, I know she’s getting impatient and wants a snack. We’ve had to wait for Mason and my cousins to take their positions inside before Papa and I can get this over with.

“Ready?” Papa squeezes my hand that’s holding onto his arm for dear life.

“No, but let's do this,” I sigh, and wish I could text Luca or Summer right about now.

We enter through the large doors and a quiet hush envelops the whole church. I hear faint whispers as the gathered crowd turns to gawk at us walking down the aisle. The church organ starts up, with the traditional wedding march, and I want to groan out loud. Who the fuck picked this shit?

My eyes scan the room and I see smiling faces, hardly any of which I recognize, until they land on him. Milan D’Amico, my soon-to-be husband, standing at the altar looking every part Mafioso. His face is hard, his shoulders fill out his tailored suit like no one I’ve seen before. He is the epitome of a wet dream and about to be mine until death do us part.

I don’t even notice we reach the altar until Papa’s hand grips mine one last time, before handing it over to Milan. I can hear my heart thudding in my ears and my mouth is bone dry, I try to swallow, but it feels as though my tongue is going to get stuck against the roof of my mouth.

“Eyes on me, Principessa,” his voice breaks my concentration and I glance up at him and his cocky smirk. “I didn’t think you’d go through with this.”

“I have a bone to pick with you,” I whisper, and poke him in the chest. Finally finding my train of thought.

“I’ve been waiting patiently for your wrath.” The dark glint in his eyes is back, making me want to poke them out.

---