Page 50 of Mafia Princess

She emerges and closes the door after her, double-checking the locks are secure. “Let's go.” She strides past me to the elevator, her bag slung over her shoulder, and her hair pulled out of her ponytail.

EIGHTEEN

Maya

I text Summer to take my babies for their nightly walk through campus. Apart from Amber, Summer is the only one they will allow near them. I know Enzo is going to flip his shit when he finds out they’re on campus, but right now it’s the safest place for them.

Summer: No worries babe, Emma and I are heading over right now. I’ll look after your babies. xx

Me: I owe you. Love you boo. xx

Summer: Love you & have fun! Haha

We pull up outside his gated estate, the guard posted out the front standing to attention, as though royalty is arriving. As Milan steers the SUV up the driveway and parks, I can’t help but wonder what sins I’m going to get punished for. I have a few on my belt, but only one left that truly counts. I cannot allow myself to die before I avenge my mother’s murder. I have to play my cards right. In this game of mob world politics, an eye for an eye just doesn’t cut it. Revenge and death go hand in hand, and I wonder if I’ll see one out before the other.

I follow him dutifully through his well-stocked garage. This is every playboy’s dream garage, from Aston Martin to Maserati, wank bank central right here. We enter through a mudroom and into the kitchen. He doesn’t speak to me as he strides through his house, his footsteps long and purposeful.

I stop at the kitchen island and cross my arms, waiting to see how long it takes him to realize I’m not following him.

Three.

Two.

One.

He halts his steps, turns on his leather shoes, and glares at me. Without speaking, he takes a few steps toward me and gives me no warning. I let out a small scream of surprise as he twists and throws me over his shoulder.

“Milan,” I protest and brace myself against his hips with my hands.

He strides through his house and up a flight of stairs, turning left at the end of a long hall, into a darkened room. He throws me onto a bed and I bounce from the impact, disorientated from the lack of light.

“Strip to your underwear, Principessa.” His voice is commanding and it has taken on a whole new level of authority.

Heat rushes straight between my legs and I clench my thighs together. “Fuck off.” I test him to see how far I can push his monster.

The need to feel pain, like in the fighting ring, has me wanting to defy him in every way possible.

A light flickers on, its golden glow illuminating the large room, sending sinister shadows dancing across the walls. Everything in here is black, from the carpet to the furniture. Black walls frame the moonlight outside the large windows and black drapes weep from the ceiling. I’m starting to see a pattern where everything to do with this man is charred in black.

He stands, dominating the area at the end of the bed, his black shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the veins on his forearms on delicious display. He bends down and places his hands on either side of my legs and stares at me.

“If you want, I can throw you to the wolves and let them have at you? Or we can play this my way. Which way will it be, Principessa?”

I watch his mouth as his tongue darts out and moistens his lips. “I don’t really have a choice here, do I?” I raise my eyebrows.

“On the contrary, the choice is entirely yours.” His voice vibrates through my chest, sending shivers up my spine.

“And if I choose the wolves?” I quip.

“You’ll not see the light of another day. Killing a consigliere is punishable by slaughter. I’ve dismembered people for less.” His cool tone chills me.

“As I said, I don’t have a choice.” I scoot back onto the bed and away from him. His proximity is clouding my head.

“Are you afraid of me, Principessa?”

“I’m not afraid of anyone, Milan,” I say his name with a condescending tone.

His hand flies out like a snake strike and he grips my throat in his strong fingers. The veins in his forearms protrude as he squeezes tighter, blocking my airflow. I wrap both my hands around his wrist and will him to squeeze harder, beckoning him with my eyes, to show him I’m not fucking afraid of him.

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