Page 4 of Mafia Princess

“Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.” I turn to lean my back against the bar and seek out my suitor. “Speaking of, have you seen Milan yet?”

“So, he’s the lucky bastard,” Rico chuckles. “He’s sitting at the table with his family and yours. You should make your way over there before dinner is served.” Rico takes another long drink from the bottle before placing it back. He pauses before he straightens and twists to gaze at me.

“What?” I look back at him and feel the sharp pain in my ribs as I step forward.

“Give them hell, lei diavolo.” He winks at me before his baritone laugh echoes in my ears.

I waltz past the guests, ones who are all too afraid to comment let alone pull a face at me. I smile sweetly at them and soak in their judgment, allowing it to paint the irritation within my veins. I thrive on the thoughts of others; their inner monologue is always displayed on their features as much as they try to school their faces.

“Papa,” I sing as I wrap my arms around his neck from behind and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“My sweetheart.” He grins, patting my hand and pulling the chair out next to him for me to sit.

Joseph Capelli, notorious crime boss. Don of the New York outfit. My papa is dressed to impress, and he very rarely isn’t in a suit. Even on days at home, he wears suit pants and a button-up. He lives his Sicilian roots to his core. Costa Nostra is his blood.

I glance at the familiar faces at the round table, finding Tristan and Mason sitting to Papa’s right. All eyes follow me as I take my seat. I feel the moment Papa notices what I’m wearing, and his nostril flare makes his breath come out with a low hiss.

Good.

“Maya, Maya, Maya,” my brother chuckles and shakes his head at me. He leans behind Papa’s back to get my attention. “I’m not sure if I’m impressed or scared for you.” He high fives me.

Milan stares at me from across the table. His indifference is obvious even from where I’m sitting. I grin at him and wiggle my eyebrows, hoping to get him to crack his steel façade. Instead of smiling back, he closes his eyes for a moment before leaning in to whisper in his father’s ear.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Papa’s strained voice jerks me from my staring. He rarely swears at me, so I know I’m in deep shit this time.

“What you asked of me.” I lean forward and brace my elbows on the table.

“Dress accordingly next time or I’ll rescind the Verona situation.” He clears his throat, too enraged to speak another word.

I glare at him knowing fully well he is true to his word. “I am dressed for the occasion.” I cross my arms over my chest.

The slow and deliberate turn of his head and the lethal glint in his eye reminds me of exactly who he is. But I don’t back down, I stare right back at him.

“What occasion do you think this is appropriate for?” he baits me.

And boy, do I take a bite. “Attending this stupid event to show everyone Milan and I are getting married.”

The whole table falls silent and the tension is tangible. The clatter of forks and the low hum of the other guests blurs into the background as the guests at our table wait for someone to snap.

My Papa places his napkin on the table and stands swiftly, grabbing my arm in a single movement. He pulls me into his side and my eyes lock with Mason’s. I know I’ve gone too far this time, and for once, I want Mason to save me. But he sits there smirking at me as I’m escorted out of the main hall until we stop outside the kitchens. This is bad; he doesn’t want anyone to hear us.

“Please, Maya.” He clasps his hands in front of him and shakes them at me. “Please stop being so fucking difficult. I can’t fight you anymore.”

“Then don’t, Papa.” I lean against the wall and wait.

He paces five steps up the hall and back, turns, and repeats the process. I know he’s thinking, mulling over the words he wants to use. I watch him stop and adjust his tie before he turns and faces me once again.

“You are doing this whether you like it or not. The merging of our two families means more power and position in New York. You know this.” He places his hands in his pockets as he stares me down.

“I know all the shit involved with being a part of this family, but it doesn’t mean I have to accept it.” I cross my arms.

Papa stares at me, his dark eyes flickering with regret for a split second before he lets out a slow breath. His power and position in this society is well respected, and I’m sure he wishes I respected his orders as well as his associates do. I feel my free will slowly slipping away from me the longer he stands there staring.

“You don’t have to accept it. You simply need to comply, understand?” His voice is gruff.

My temper scratches at me and leaves weeping wounds in my soul. “So, you think gift-wrapping me and offering me to the New Jersey Outfit will solve all your problems?”

“Don’t concern yourself with my problems. Get back into that fucking dining room and act like your name is Capelli. Move.” His eyes bulge in rage as he points in the direction of the dining hall.

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