Page 2 of Their Princess

I scoffed. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re making me by trading your eldest daughter for the chance to make more money on your deal with the Mexican cartels?”

“That’s enough, Adelina.” He’d at least stopped explaining why this was an important duty I should embrace for la Familia.

“Of course it is.” I uncrossed and recrossed my legs.

My uncle’s dark eyes grazed up my legs under his dark eyelashes, taking in every inch of my bronzed thigh. I gripped the hem, curious how long he would stare if I pulled it up a little higher. I had to wear a thong with this pencil skirt, and though I’d never seen Rafe gawking at a woman’s body, I wondered how far I could push him.

For a hot second, I imagined which one of the two men here would have the bigger reaction if I flashed my thong. My father, angry and fuming that I was acting out, or my uncle with his wandering eyes and strong jaw?

The two of them looked nothing alike, but half-brothers rarely did. That, combined with the massive age gap between them. Their father really liked to sleep around. Hell, Papà did too, but Mamà always stayed by his side for some reason I couldn’t understand.

She had always said, “He wasn’t always this way, Adelina.” But that didn’t excuse it. Didn’t women deserve to have the undivided attention of their men?

The men in my family, however, proved to be a group that couldn’t keep their dicks in their pants. Except Rafe.

I pulled down my skirt, as my father instructed. Uncle Rafe watched as I leaned back in my seat, crossing my legs at the knee. The skirt rode up again, but my father said nothing this time. His nose was nearly pressed to the glass, and Rafe turned toward the window too. He reached for the gun at his hip. I didn’t think bikers would wear their guns like that, but he would be new to club life too.

Did he resent it as much as me? Rafe and I were both facing the unknown, but he was a rider and seemed far more suited to whatever went on in motorcycle gangs. Besides, the rumors in la Famiglia said he’d already been in some hell holes, thanks to his time in the Marines.

These fucking desert dogs were animals without class or remorse. I wasn’t like my father, who got off on crime and torture, but I had been around long enough to understand what I would be walking into. A shitshow that put us square on the wrong side of the law. At least where I’d been, I could pretend I wasn’t a part of the underworld part of la Famiglia.

But with this random-ass business in the middle of nowhere with motorcycles lined up at the front, glittering too brightly in the sun, there wasn’t a society to hide in. What a bunch of men with small dicks.

Rafe stared at the bikes too, lips pursed.

Tilting my head, I asked, “Do you like what you see, zio?”

The Italian for the word uncle drew his eyes to me, but his gaze didn’t falter. His hand hadn’t left the handle of his gun, as if we were about to be caught in a shootout. Maybe that would save me from this God-forsaken marriage.

Was the agreement with the MC so fragile that Rafe was scared it would break? Or was it just his military training that had him on guard before we even exited the limo?

“C’mon, Zio Rafaele, aren’t you excited to join other riders?” I asked, taunting him.

He almost cracked a smile. “You ever been on the back of a bike,nipote?” He threw the familial term for niece back at me. “Where there’s nothing but the rider, the road, and the wind.”

His words sounded wistful, like riding let him escape from the monsters of his reality. To solidify that point, he glanced back at the capo who drove a with a trailer carrying Rafe’s Harley.

“Worried about your baby?” I asked, prodding what I knew was a sore spot for him.

“Wouldn’t have to if your father let me ride.”

Papà snapped, “Enough you two. I can’t hear myself think.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you made him secretary and me a whore to this motorcycle gang,” I replied. “But I guess that makes you my pimp.”

“And you, mia figlia, need your mouth washed out with soap.” My father raised a brow.

We stared off. I’d always lowered my gaze when he’d looked at me like that before, but not today.

The limo stopped outside what looked like a body shop that needed a new paint job. And new windows. Maybe a new door too. The MC probably didn’t give a shit about that. I wouldn’t when I had no money and a bunch of dirt for a back yard.

Who the fuck would even want to live out here?

Apparently, someone was settling in with the house going up next door to the dilapidated gas station.

A capo opened one of the limo doors, and my father stepped out, buttoning his jacket. He scanned his surroundings, even over the roof of the car, while squinting into the bright sunlight.

As soon as my father was out, Rafe threw open the other door and made a B-line for the trailer. With his high and tight crew cut, he looked more like a soldier than one of the other capos, but he singularly focused on freeing his motorcycle from the straps they’d used to tie it down.

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