Page 11 of Mafia Princess

“Leave.” I grab her by the arm and pull her up off the three-seater.

“Oh, you want to role play?” Her fingers curl around my loosened tie and she leans up to kiss me.

“No, Amara. I need you to get your shit and leave. We aren’t doing this anymore.” I push her off me and watch heartbreak crash into her.

I know I’ve let this go on for too long. She was simply a means to fulfill my needs. But to her, this meant a whole lot more. I knew it from the beginning, and I should have put a stop to it long ago. Now her father, the consigliere to my father, will want to have my head staked and on show in his house.

“You’re an asshole.” Her anger plays havoc with her poise.

“Tell me something I don’t already know. Leave your swipe card by the table at the front door,” I take one last look at her, pivot on my leather Oxfords, and leave the library.

“Fuck you!” she screams after me before hurling a pillow at my back.

I smile inwardly at the feisty little bitch and head into my office.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun rises like every other day. But today, it feels as though it’s mocking me, shining brightly over my doom and gloom mood.

I’m carving my own path in my father’s kingdom. A path of casino’s dripping in profit and stake holds in reputable companies. My father still believes corruption wins. I can run his money laundering and racketeering with my eyes closed. After all, I’ve been dealing with his business since I was sixteen, the prime age to step up into the family. I know the ins and outs of every last transaction, and nothing gets the go-ahead without my signature. This leaves all the fun to my father. He still enjoys the old-school style of mob work. Dealing with fists and guns. Making bodies disappear and torturing his enemies. I prefer to keep my hands clean and let my loyal associates deal with that side of this lifestyle.

I stayed up for the entire evening preparing for our next investments with the elusive Nero Construction. Our business dealings are mostly legitimate these days. Gone are the days of pure corruption and embezzlement. Don’t get me wrong, we do have our fair share of profits rolling in from the wrong side of the tracks. Cleaning dirty money is my nickname.

The television is on as background noise, and there is my face flashing across the screen. Fucking paparazzi. New Jersey business mogul out on the town at a Gala in New York. I switch the television off and wonder why I even bothered to think I wouldn’t be on the news highlights this morning. Don’t these reporters have anything better to write stories on? Ever since I bought the failing Stein Oil company, I’ve been splashed across the tabloids. It’s as though the bad fortune of the deceased oil mogul haunts me daily.

I head to my gym and spend the next hour and a half mindlessly blasting the shit out of a punching bag. My knuckles are red, raw, and swollen by the time I’m finished, I long discarded the gloves an hour ago. They were muting the pain I like to feel when irritation burns me from inside out.

I hear my phone vibrating on the floor, but I ignore it, knowing it's my father seeing as I didn’t speak to him after last night's charade. I jump into the shower and get presentable for my flight to Montana to meet with the new manager of my now aptly named oil company Capo Oil.

My driver rolls up onto the tarmac, and my beauty sits shining in the mocking sun, glistening like she’s made of diamonds. I don’t care for materialistic possessions; I own what I own because they all serve me a purpose. My private jet, on the other hand, I decided I deserved, much to my father’s distaste. I bought her when I purchased my oil company to make flying back and forth easier.

The vibration of my phone against my chest makes me groan out loud. Who the fuck is calling me now? I take it out of my pocket and stare at the screen. “Speak,” I bark into the phone and wait for the information. “Perfect time to kill.” I cut the phone call.

I see revenge in black and white. No tones of grey in my line of sight. If you fuck with me and my family, I will fuck you harder. Point blank.

FIVE

Maya

Back on Verona soil, finally. Up until recently, my papa was dead set against allowing me to study here at Verona. That is until I convinced him that being in Russo territory meant I could sift through their dealings and report back home. Only, the real reason I chose to attend Verona was to get away from my papa and the bodyguards he enlisted to not-so-discreetly watch my every move. I have zero intentions of spying on Enzo and his family. Mason doesn’t get the same damn treatment. The double standards shouldn’t shock me anymore, but a small part of me hopes one day I will be treated as an equal.

“Maya,” I hear my name called across the courtyard.

I turn and squint as the sun’s rays distort my vision. “Amber, baby.” I hold out my arms as she skips into me.

“When did you get back?” She squeezes me tight.

“Last night. I made my driver deliver me back here. I couldn’t face my papa.” I pull my bag strap back up onto my shoulder.

Amber steps back and eyes me for a moment, her dark eyes scrutinizing my reaction. “So, it’s official.”

“It’s not official until I sign those stupid papers, and that isn’t fucking happening in this lifetime.”

“Either way, it's shit.” Amber frowns. She would know all too well the powers of the family business.

She pulls on my hand to lead me to Sinatra’s. “Have you got time for coffee?”

Not a second after our coffee is delivered to our table, I hear raucous laughter coming from behind me. The noise could only belong to two distinct cousins. I turn my head as their disturbance gets louder and can’t help but grin like a schoolgirl when her crush pays her any attention.

“You’re here.” Luca walks up behind me and grabs my jaw in his hand, pulling my head back possessively so I’m looking at him upside down as Dante takes a seat.

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