Page 47 of Claiming His Mafia Princess

A short distance from the coffee shop, I can hear sirens.

The roads are congested, and we move slower through the thick traffic — until we reach the scene of an accident.

My car.

Rolled.

Smashed.

Lying on the roof, half in the road, half on the curb.

There is blood splattered down the side of the driver’s door, pooling on the tar, making it shine with thick wet red liquid.

I can see the driver, but I can’t see Dalila.

I push the door open and run towards the mess.

“Was there a girl?” I shout desperately at the paramedic on the scene.

“What?”

“Where is the fucking girl that was in the car?”

I only hope that she was taken in an ambulance. That this is a genuine accident.

But the look on the paramedic’s face says otherwise. “There was no girl, man. Do you know this guy?”

I shake my head. Fuck. There was no girl.

Except I know there was.

“Hey, man, do you know this guy?” the paramedic screams after me as I turn away. “Dude, you have to stay and answer some questions.”

But I’m already climbing back into my car, gesturing to the driver to keep going.

I need to have a word with her father.

To my surprise, he went home. He didn’t go looking for her; he didn’t trace her route back towards my place - he just went home.

I push my way through his front door as his security guards try to hold me back.

“Where the fuck is she?” I scream into his face, grabbing him by the collar.

Three men try to pull me off him, but I can tell they’re scared of me. They know who I am. Everyone knows the stories about me.

“It’s ok. It’s ok.” Vincent waves his security guards off me. “It’s OK,” He says again as they step away. I don’t know if he’s saying it to them or himself.

“Where is my wife, Vincent?”

“I don’t know. She ever showed up.”

“I know that already. We found the car. Flipped. My driver is dead, and she is missing. Now you tell me you had nothing to do with this.” I am livid. Screaming. Shouting. Making an enormous noise. I never shout. I am the deadly silent shadow - but not now. Now I am a mess of fear and rage.

“What the fuck is going on?” Masaccio’s voice comes from behind me and I spin towards him.

“Where is your sister?” I hiss at him.

“She’s gone?” His eyes glaze over in panic. He turns towards his father. “Did you do something?” He asks.

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