Page 19 of Princess of the Mafia

She didn’t like her fucking boundaries, and she had sneaked off to a nightclub. Alone. I’d bet my Ducati that it wasn’t the first time she’d done that.

She was brought up all sheltered in the Cosa Nostra but clearly, she wanted out. She called herself loot, and even if I knew she was that, she was mine anyway. Loot or wife.

She didn’t want to be owned, so she let another man fuck her and take what was mine. Oh, Principessa, you shouldn’t have. I’d own you, anyway. Body, mind, and soul.

I donned a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt and strode out to the living room to find her all curled up on the couch, with her eyes on some soap opera on the TV. The robe was thick and massive on her, draped off her shoulders like a fucking sex invitation. Her eyes were big and blue and too huge on her face. They brimmed with unshed tears like sapphires on her olive skin. The moment she saw me, she sat straight up like I’d shoved a steel plate up her spine. Funnily enough, she had been relaxed with Stefano alone in the room. He gave me a guilty smile from the other side of the couch. I don’t think I’d ever been jealous of my brother before, and I wasn’t going to start now. But he’d always been able to soothe any girl, and apparently, it applied to my future wife, as well. Can’t say I cared for it. She jittered around me like I was a madman, but with my brother, she was all relaxed, like she’d known him her entire life. Annoyance crawled up my spine, and the urge to do something about it hit me hard and fast. Lucky for her, she was saved by the impatient pounding on the door and the voice of another fucked up Di Matteo.

I didn’t even get to open the door before he shoved the door and me hard against the wall. He strode off into the room with wild eyes. He didn’t have to wait too long because she flew into his arms and crawled up his neck like he rescued her from a den of vipers. He physically stumbled back from the force of it. I wondered just for a mere second what it must be like to have that much devotion.

He rolled with her in his arms to find me like he’d crush me with one hand while still carrying his sister, my future wife, in his arms. “What the fuck is going on?”

We were two ticking bombs about to go off. She’d fucked me up with her actions today, and I wasn’t in a forgiving mood. But then again, that was never a mood of mine. I had every right to shed light on her wretched actions and soil her brother’s mood.

“What’s going on is your little sister sneaked off and went partying in a nightclub in Palermo,” I said coldly.

He looked at her in his arms. Surprise and hurt in his eyes. He didn’t even utter a single word to her, but she told him something she’d never told me. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled against his neck, and I swear to God, I wanted to wrench her out of his arms. This amount of devotion was repellent.

“You went with Luna?” he asked her gruffly.

She snuck her head up his neck and nodded.

Who the fuck is Luna?

“Why, Daria?”

Because she didn’t want me to own her. But she didn’t say anything. I caught a mumble of an “I’m sorry, Ale.”

Jesus. She had riled me up hard and fast all night long, and it didn’t seem to stop. She was all cozy and sorry with her fucking brother and with me, she was stiff, and she gave me all of that ‘didn’t want to be owned by me’ shit. Something green slithered through my veins until all I could think of was breaking this bond between the two. I knew without a doubt he’d break when I told him, because no brother would be okay with what she had done, not even one as understanding as Di Matteo apparently was. The words itched in my throat, crawling to get out. Except, somehow, they clogged in my vocal folds when she begged me with her eyes. Suddenly I owned her again, even when she had given her fucking virginity to another man.

“I was just in time,” I grated out, and the lie sizzled like alcohol on a gunshot wound.

“In time for what?”

“Ale, please…”

“Some guy making advances on her.”

Di Matteo’s look turned black. He gripped her chin and brought her face to his. “What did he do?”

She shook her head to my frown. If only he knew.

“Nothing much,” I bit out the lie. I imagined skinning my skin would have brought me a tad less pain. “But he put his filthy hands on my future wife, so I had to take care of him. You would understand, I’d imagine.”

Stefano gave me a look from behind Di Matteo, and I ignored him. Yeah, bro, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing either. It pissed me off that anyone would know I wasn’t the first man to touch her. It was already bad enough that my brothers knew. Besides, I owned her now. There was no fucking way she was getting out of this marriage now. As loot or wife.

“Anyone who thought touching my sister would keep him alive was a fool to begin with.” He scowled at me. “I’d need his details.”

Of course he would. But it wasn’t his territory. There might have also been a thrill running up my spine when I saw the panicked look on my future wife’s face. I wanted to own her till all she saw was me. Only me.

“No need. I took care of it.”

He glared at me tightly, trying to judge the situation. But I wasn’t spilling, and I would have bet my life she would have done anything to spare her precious brother from pain. He turned to her and cocked her chin up. “What happened to your clothes?”

I would shed them into tiny molecules and burn them together with that boy’s body. Well, what was left of them, anyway.

“She was cold, so I told her to get in the shower,” I answered for her.

Di Matteo frowned at her. “You okay?”

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