Page 1 of Daddy's Little Mafia Princess
Chapter 1
Viktor
She sits at her father’s elbow, at the head of the white and gold gilded banquet table, as regal as a princess. When I get her home, it’ll be my delight to fuck her like a whore.
Still, if one is forced to marry, one could do far worse than Clara Pisani. She’s gorgeous—slim, petite, nice ass, and breasts perfectly sized for her small frame. Her long wavy hair is the color of midnight. From the back of the banquet room, I can’t tell the color of her eyes, but I’ll bet they’re just as dark. She won’t look at me. She’s looking at her hands, coy as hell, not once glancing up, even when my arrival was announced at the door.
Yeah, she is beautiful, but that’s the least attractive thing about her. Her best quality is her father’s casino, or rather the restaurant I want to put in it.
Nothing launders money better or faster than an upscale dining establishment in a casino just off the Las Vegas Strip. Her father knows he’s sitting on prime real estate. He also knows his casino is nothing compared to the Big Boys towering all around him—the Mirage, MGM, Bellagio, Flamingo, the list goes on. TheCrown is nothing compared to those—not yet—but it could be, which is the only reason he’s sitting here tonight. I promised him the money he needs to renovate and bring the Crown up to that kind of luxury par. No one would have let me walk through the banquet hall doors otherwise.
My name is Viktor Antonov. The man at the head of the table next to my future princess is Alviero Pisani, my father’s nearest and dearest enemy. Two years ago, my father was shot walking from his front door to the car. His murder has never been solved, but everyone knows Alviero ordered the hit. It was his permanent resolution to a thirty-year-old dispute that bore absolutely no relevance to either of our families’ current businesses.
He thinks I want revenge. He thinks that’s why I’ve chosen his casino and why we’re all here. I don’t want revenge. I want to make a purchase, one that makes good business sense for everyone. Alviero needs enough money to renovate and to pay back what he’s stolen from his casino partners. He needs to make the King’s Crown Casino every bit a star as the Wynn or the New York-New York. I can do that for him. I have money in spades, but as he did in life, even in death, my father is getting in the way. Before Alviero lets me set foot in his casino, much less buy restaurant space, he requires… assurances.
In his mind, I’ll be less inclined to avenge my ‘dearly’ departed father’s murder if I’m married to his daughter. In my mind, if I was inclined to kill him, I’d have done it two years ago.
Whatever.
This is still a good deal… better than good. It’s perfect, and I’m not about to let something as archaic as a blood vendetta, I have no interest in declaring, impede my future monetary happiness.
If I have to marry his daughter to get what I want, just show me to the altar.
I stand in the doorway, my bodyguards like silent shadows behind me, watching as Pisani’s consigliere bends to whisper in Alviero’s ear, and the old man glances my way. ‘Old man.’ The boss of the damn-near defunct Nicotera family is in his fifties. He sizes me up, his jaw tightening, the corner of his mouth ticcing with his distaste before he finally nods. As if he didn’t hear when I was announced almost five minutes ago. As if I wasn’t watching the fucker. Finally, he beckons me to his table.
My men find a quiet place to stand along a nearby wall while I sit across the table from this very minor Las Vegas king without invitation and pick up a napkin.
“Thank you for taking the time to see me,” I politely say before offering his daughter my most charming smile. “Good morning, Miss Pisani.”
She swallows but barely glances up from her hands. She’s pale, not so much regal now that I’m up close to her. She’s scared. I wonder what they’ve told her.
The flutter at the base of her throat is the silent thundering of a terrified heart, betrayed by the thin, pale barrier of her skin. Clutching her hands, she doesn’t respond.
“Don’t be rude,” her father tells her, although the smile he aims at me is anything but apologetic. We’re all sharks in this elegant room, all but one—the dark-hair beauty only a table’s width away from me. Turning his attention back to his steak, Alviero motions for a waiter to bring me a plate.
I won’t be eating anything brought to me by Pisani’s men. I bear no grudges for my father, but I’m not stupid. Poison is every bit as effective as bullets, and Alviero is nothing if not ‘old school’ when it comes to vendettas. There’s a chance he might not consider the thirty-year-old issue dead with only my father, and I’m the sole heir of an empire far more lucrative than his had become.
“Tell me,” Alviero says, cutting another bite off his steak. “Why my casino?”
“The location,” I tell him honestly. Diplomacy had me adding, “It still has its grandeur, and I believe it could be every bit as great as those on the Vegas Strip.”
“Do you?” Alviero looks at me, his cold coal eyes showing just a spark of interest.
A plate is placed before me, but I don’t look away from Alviero, who, after a moment’s quiet contemplation, nods to his consigliere. Taking a contract from his briefcase, the man slides it toward me.
“My daughter will inherit my empire, but only after twenty years of marriage between you, and only if I die in peace. If I’m shot, she gets nothing. If I get hit by a car,”—he looks at me—“she gets nothing. If—”
“Give her nothing,” I tell him flatly. “I don’t need or want your empire. I’m not here for blood. I’m here to make us both incredibly rich.”
“No one gets rich with a restaurant,” Alviero scoffs.
“They will with the money I launder through the restaurant and with the money I’m willing to pour into your establishment, both turning it into a competitive palace for tourists and to stem the tide of losses you’ve had the last few years. You need the Crown to turn a profit again.”
He studies me, that spark of interest growing. “What percentage are you offering of the laundering?”
I don’t so much as blink.
“Not one penny, but nor am I asking repayment for the three billion I intend to sink into your renovations, all of which I alone will control to ensure the money is… effectively spent.”
