Page 68 of Princess of the Mafia

He snatched it and shoved it into my hand. “Call your sister.”

I couldn’t follow.

“If you don’t, I will,” he growled as I clutched the phone to my chest.

“Orietta?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Ask her what really happened.”

Unease coated my skin. Dread, heavy and thick, seeped into my chest. “Why don’t you tell me first?”

“I will, but…” he jerked towards the phone, “ask her first.”

A few minutes ago, I’d been happy, I had thought. Now, fear was all that pulled at my heartstrings as my finger pressed on Orietta’s name.

“Set it on speaker.”

One ringtone and another echoed in the room.

“If it isn’t the princess of the family.” Orietta’s snarky tone crawled into our bedroom.

It was like she stood there in the bedroom between him and me.

“Etta—”

“I wish I could say I miss your silly names. Guess what? I don’t.”

I inhaled sharply. She had been distant, sometimes direct to a fault, with no filter. But being downright mean? Was she ever that?

“Did Mamma ask you to call? To find out how the peasant in the family is doing?”

I frowned. Since when were we poor? Since when was she poor?

“What are you talking about?”

She laughed, a gruff unamused laugh. “Oh, you don’t know? I guess I didn’t make the international news. Your fucking brother cut me off.”

“What?” I glared at Lorenzo. Did he have something to do with it? His eyes thinned. “Why would Ale do that?”

“Why would Ale do that?” she mimicked me in a high-pitched tone. Lorenzo growled in front of me. A pause on the other end. “Am I on speaker?”

I squirmed. “Yes.”

“Tell her why he cut you off,” Lorenzo snapped.

“I don’t know…” her snarky voice had gone soft.

“If you don’t tell your sister, I will, and I thought you’d want to plead your case first.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I don’t see what the problem is, anyway. So what? I was already fucking Luigi. You found out. Can’t blame me if you wanted a virgin.”

“That’s not all, is it?”

“That’s all I know.”

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