Page 5 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

Her expression suggests she thinks I am being naïve.

“How bad can he be now?” I snap. “He’s old… like seventy.” I’m hoping he’s infirm so I don’t have to endure any of the abuse I’ve heard, or the intimate bits my mother told me to bear.

She reaches into her purse. “I hope you’re right, but just in case.” She hands me a small, nondescript phone. It's nothing like my sleek smartphone, just a basic flip model with chunky buttons.

"Take this. It's untraceable. If you ever need help, if things get bad, call me. I'll come for you, no matter what."

My throat tightens. Suddenly, this all feels too real. "Ava, I?—"

"Promise me you'll keep it hidden," she interrupts, her voice urgent. "Don't let anyone find it. Not Papa, not Don Nardone, no one."

I nod, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and defiance. This little phone represents a lifeline, yes, but also an act of rebellion against the life that's been planned for me.

"I promise.” I open my suitcase and tuck the phone into the lining.

Ava pulls me into a tight hug. "I love you, Bella. Stay safe."

I hug her back, blinking away tears. "I love you too. Thank you."

A knock sounds on my door.

“Come in,” I call out.

George, one of my father's men, opens it. “Your father is ready for you.” He looks at my suitcase. “Is this coming with you?”

I nod.

He picks it up and heads out the door.

“I guess this is it,” I say to Ava.

I hate how terrified she looks for me.

“Have Matteo bring you to New York. We’ll buy out the town.”

She manages a smile.

I head out the door, and down the stairs to my father’s office. This is it. The start of my new life. I hesitate for a moment. I know all the stories about Don Nardone. The dead wives. The missing one. His rumored perversion. I’ve been telling myself they’re exaggerations, but what if they’re not?

Ava’s hand rests on my shoulder. “Just call, and I’ll find a way to get you.”

I nod, but my fear is getting the best of me. I have a moment to resent Ava for putting me in this situation. After all, she was supposed to be the one marrying Don Nardone. She broke the rules and ended up with the love of her life. I’m the one who’s paying for that.

But I quickly let go of my resentment. I can’t blame Ava for seeking love and freedom. I want the same for me and for my sisters. No, my resentment needs to be squarely focused on my father and all these barbaric Mafia jerks.

Squaring my shoulders, I open my father’s office door and step forward into my new life, ready to face whatever awaits me in New York.

3

NIC

I’ve been in a pisser of a mood since dragging my ass out of bed and to the airport in New York to fly to Chicago. For years, I’ve been looking for ways to get rid of my father without actually having to kill him. It’s moments like this, when he drags me into his depravity, that I imagine putting a bullet in his brain.

Instead, I’ve flown to Chicago and a driver brings me to the Rinella mansion.

“What a fucking waste of time,” I mutter as I exit the car and walk up to the house. I swear I don’t understand my father. It’s not just his vile sexual habits. The man is reckless in his appetite for power. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s having cognitive issues because he hadn’t always been rash and irresponsible in business and life. Or maybe he’s just gotten away with it for so long, he feels emboldened and invisible. The way I see it, it’s only a matter of time before he implodes, and when he does, he’ll bring us all down.

The butler lets me in, and I turn my focus on the task at hand, but it curdles my stomach. The thought of his marrying a girl young enough to be his granddaughter is disgusting. It's badenough that he's forcing this poor girl into a loveless marriage, but I know what he plans to do to her. I push the bile rising in my throat back down.

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