Page 1 of Their Princess

Chapter One

ADELINA

There’s an unwritten,but well-known rule as a Mafia princess—leave the business to the men.

I’d been groomed under that saying for all of my twenty-two years. Every time I got headstrong, Nonna Petra always said, “La Famiglia è un mondo di uomini.”

The Family, meaning the Mafia,is a man’s world.

Growing up in the Mafia had lots of perks—no money worries, private schools, clothes, whatever college I wanted to attend—but very few in the way of becoming a successful modern woman.

I had tried to abide by the mantra Nonna imparted before she passed. That was until my father made his deal with an outlaw motorcycle club. The bastard didn’t even have the balls to tell me directly, leaving the chore to Mamà.

Arranged marriage—words I thought went out the window after Papà’s generation.

But there I was, in the back of his stretch limo, heading south into the dusty wasteland where I would meet my future husband.

Throwing my head back onto the headrest, I mumbled, “Fucking shoot me now!”

“Adelina Parisi,” my father, the new Don of la Famiglia, barked.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, hopefully putting a period on what I thought of his so-called partnership. If one of his goons shot me for insolence, it may have been a good thing. At least a hole in my head might save me from this shit show.

“Let her mope, Mass,” Uncle Rafe said, and I focused outside through the tinted window.

Dust kicked up around the limousine, turning everything orange. The Arizona desert sprawled out, not too different from Las Vegas, but there was little to look at except for the pitchfork-like cacti. Yup, we might as well be sailing across the River Styx... right into my own personal hell.

Could I even hope that mybetrothedwas half as hot as some of the romance authors I followed painted Hades? I guess Persephone had been trapped in the underworld too, so we were about to have a lot in common. Both pawns to dark and powerful men.

Who didn’t like being a pawn?

Oh, right. Me.

At least Persephone got to leave her prison for six months out of the year.

Hell would be hot, obviously, but I didn’t expect it to be so freaking dry.

I ran my fingers over my other hand’s ashen knuckles. “I’m going to have to buy a vat of Cream Nera.”

Papà narrowed his eyes. “I’ll buy the whole fucking company if you’ll quit your whining.”

“At least they have humidifiers indoors in Vegas.” I huffed and crossed my arms.

Here, the dry, dust-coated heat seeped into the car, no matter how high we turned the AC. My pores tightened on my face, and I could feel early wrinkles forming. I should’ve put an extra layer of moisturizer under my foundation, but I hadn’t been thinking straight.

With Mamà’s help, I had caked enough makeup on to make myself look like a beauty queen straight off the Vegas strip. Hopefully, the fucking biker liked his women to look like strippers. Then again, that seemed right up the alley of motorcycle club trash.

My father checked his watch like we were running behind schedule, but the limo slowed as we came over a hill. There wasn’t a town in sight, so where could this infamous motorcycle club be?

I turned, having to look over my shoulder to see farther up the road, and I braced myself in the seat. There wasn’t anything to speak of in sight except what looked like an old, deserted gas station with some construction happening nearby. But we did pass a weathered green sign that read Park Ridge.

“Thisis it?” I whipped my head around to glare at Papà again.

“Don’t give me that look, Adelina.” He tugged on his cuffs at his wrist. “It’ll give you early wrinkles.”

The skirt of my dress had ridden up, and it scooched even higher as I squirmed in my seat. Meeting my future husband today would definitely not be a relaxing vacation. My father—along with my uncle Rafe—basically had to drag me out here. Papà’s capos had lingered around, sneering, and their cars now followed in our motorcade.

“Pull down your skirt,” snapped Papà. “You look like a whore.” He turned his attention outside as though I disgusted him.

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