Page 31 of Mafia Princess

“Play your part now and I’ll play you like the monster everyone says I am. The knife was just foreplay.” His voice is so low and depraved, it makes my insides ignite.

I take my glass of champagne and throw it back, trying to cool myself down. I study his profile, noting the sharp angles and set jaw. He’s like an undiscovered island in a sea of volcanic lava. On one hand, he’s all smooth and blank expressions and on the other, he’s a firepit full of vipers.

“The knife incident was a one-off.” I bite the tip of the roasted carrot aggressively.

He licks his lips and watches me intently, his gaze fixated on my mouth as though he is going over all the ways he wants to punish it. “Don’t worry babycakes. Your fuck buddy will be invited. I don’t go back on my word.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin and places it on the table.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. You will not order me around. Got it?”

“You’ll submit willingly. Mark my words, Principessa.” He reaches under the table and runs the tip of his steak knife up my leg.

I grip his wrist before he tears my dress apart. “As I said, I’ll do as I please, Milan.” I take the knife out of his hand and place it back on the table, catching Mason’s gaze as I push Milan’s hand back to his lap.

Bless my brother’s cotton socks. He looks as though he’s about to jump over me and stab Milan in the throat. “Do you need anything?” Mason asks quietly, so only I can hear.

“All good.” I smile at him, trying to dissipate the sudden tension on either side of me. Mason takes this moment to get up and go to the bar, probably trying to calm himself before he makes a scene. I wouldn’t put it past him to start shit just for the sake of it. Not with the mood he’s in today.

Dinner seems to go on and on, course after course, when they finally bring out the desserts. An array of mini-sized cakes in all the standard flavors are displayed on a five-tier stand. I stare at it and know that if this was my real engagement party, and I wasn’t getting married to some crazy fucker, he would have made sure I had sprinkle pancakes and bubble gum rainbow ice cream. But this isn’t real, and I need to snap the fuck out of my moodiness.

After the plates are cleared, guests fill the dancefloor as the band starts up, playing a mixture of current and old-school hits. Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra seem to be the favorite of the night.

I grab my clutch and head outside to the balcony, dying for a cigarette. The cool evening air is a refreshing change from the stagnant company inside. I light up my weed laced Marlboro, drag in a lung full, and hold it for a few seconds before blowing out circular rings. The noise of the band echoes around me as someone opens the doors to join my solitude.

“Never thought I’d see the day.” A tuxedo-clad mobster comes to stand next to me.

“What day is that?” I puff on my cigarette and blow the smoke at him.

He pauses and snakes his dirty eyes over me, stopping at my diamond necklace for a moment, before continuing until his eyes reach mine. “The day I’d see you still alive.”

“Well, here I am.” I hold my arms out so he can get a better look.

“Here you are, looking just as ravishing as your mom did.” His cunning smirk tries to cut through me, but my skin is thicker than he realizes.

“Flattering someone young enough to be your granddaughter is fucking gross, old man.” I bare my straight white teeth at him.

“If you were my granddaughter, I’d teach you some fucking manners, you spoilt little bitch.” He spits at me, his face turning beetroot red. He looks like he’s about to burst a vein.

I flick my cigarette ash at him and give him my best fuck you grin. “Lucky you’re not my gramps, then.”

The bastard lunges for me, about to try to grab me by the throat when a familiar voice stops him in his tracks.

“I fucking dare you, cock sucker.” The lethality behind those words has the old mobster halting with his arm extended.

TWELVE

Maya

Standing in the doorway is Luca, a look of violent tendencies plastered across his stunning features. He looks ready to kill, hovering there, dressed impeccably in a black tux with matching black shirt and tie.

“What are you doing here?” My eyes dart around to see if anyone else saw him come outside.

He stalks to me, all cat-like, and wraps his arms around my waist. “Celebrating your engagement. And it seems stopping the infamous D’Amico consigliere from doing something he will regret.” Luca’s voice turns lethal, dropping an octave, ready to slaughter this dirty fucker.

“This is an interesting turn of events.” The old mobster’s eyes dart between Luca and me, threatening to spread scandalous rumors.

“Go back to licking your Capo’s balls, Bianchi.” Luca dismisses him with a wave.

The older mobster winks at us and heads back inside.

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