Page 26 of Dark Prince

SIENNA

Daddy is going to beat my motherfucking ass, and then he’s going to shoot Matteo for real this time.

I don’t know why I threw such a fuss about needing longer than a month to plan a wedding, when really, we need to tie the knot A-S-A-fucking-P. After taking four pregnancy tests last night, all of them came back positive. I’m pregnant.

Matteo has successfully knocked up another chick he wasn’t married to, so really, this is his fault. That’s the angle I’m going with when Daddy finds out. We’re officially a team now, that means he can man up and take one for the team.

Fuck. I don’t know how to be a mother. What if I’m crap at the job? I thought I was going to have practice being a stepmom first; work out all the mommy kinks before I pop one out myself. Wouldn’t that have been the smart thing to do, dumbass? I berate myself while pretending to stare at whatever is displayed on the screen of my laptop. I’m supposed to be getting new financial accounts set up, but I can’t concentrate enough to complete the smallest of the tasks on my to-do list before I’m supposed to fly down to New Orleans in three days.

Matteo was through the roof. He wanted to announce it to everyone at breakfast this morning, but seeing as I would like to actually walk down the aisle and say I do to him, I ixnayed that immediately. Hell no. We are not telling a soul we’re having a baby; at least not until after the wedding. Daddy can’t kill him if he’s my husband.

“What all do you know of your grandfather’s role as consigliere?” My eyes flick from my laptop screen to where Giovanni is seated across from me in the kitchen nook that’s made to look like a table and booth, only it’s made of high-quality wood and looks nothing like something you’d find in a diner.

“You’ve had the job less than twenty-four hours, G. I can call you G, right?” I flash a fake smile. It’s not that I don’t like him. He seems on the snarky side, so I can envision us getting along great eventually. The problem is, I don’t know him, so therefore I don’t trust him. “So, is this conversation you’re trying to start really necessary? I think I can figure it out or make shit up as I go.”

“No, you cannot call him G, Sienna,” Daddy corrects me, pulling an annoyed sigh from my lips. “And making shit up as you go gets people killed, or worse, locked up behind bars.”

“Fine, by all means, Giovanni, please lay your wisdom on me.”

“You can call me Godfather.” He arches an eyebrow while attempting to control the smirk that wants to spread across his lips. “Or Uncle if you prefer. We’re about to be family in more ways than one.”

I’m about to open my mouth to smart off when my father continues. “Your job is to watch people for the most part. Pay close attention to every single person Domenico and Lorenzo come in contact with. Look for the smallest details, anything that doesn’t add up. Play the chameleon like I taught you. But do not let anyone figure out the role you’ve been gifted. To anyone outside the family, you are Dom’s business manager, the same as you are for me. You’ll handle the money there too, so no one should question it. Go with whatever your gut tells you and advise your brothers to the best of your ability, princess. That’s what your job is. That’s what a consigliere offers the family. Capisce?”

“So, what did Grandpa ever offer then?” As soon as the question is out of my mouth, regret settles in my stomach, turning it sour. Dad’s eyes light up as if a lighter was tossed onto a puddle of gasoline, and I swear, I see pure hatred behind his stare for the late person I referenced. I hated every second of keeping the knowledge that Rafe Caputo killed our mother from my brothers, but I still know that Daddy was right. Had Domenico found out, he would have taken matters into his own hands when that kill belonged to the man standing mere feet from G and me.

I can call him G in my head, and there is nothing either of them can say about that.

Clenching his jaw, my dad breathes in deep, his chest visibly expanding before my eyes, then, as if forcing himself to calm, he exhales. “No one is to speak his name or of him from here on, and that means in or out of my presence, Sienna. Spread the word. That goes for you too, G. Make sure my captains and their men know the same. Anyone who defies me on this will regret it.”

“Shouldn’t Dom do that?” I smart off, and because I don’t always think before I speak, I say, “He’s still the underboss in this family, right? Not him.” I purse my lips and jut my chin in Giovanni’s direction. A humorous smirk slides into place on his face as he watches me.

“Domenico has his hands full reigning in the Southern region, Sienna. Plus, he’s dealing with Lorenzo’s situation, or have you forgotten?”

“She’s just protective of her brother, Tony. Lay off,” Giovanni adds, coming to my defense and catching me off guard. “It’s a good trait, kiddo.”

“My kid, not yours. If she can dish it, she can take it.” Reaching into his suit jacket, he pulls out a semiautomatic pistol, and without racking the slider because I know he keeps a round in the chamber, he aims it inches from Giovanni’s forehead. “Issue an order to me again, De Salvo, and I have a round with your name on it. Got it?”

“Got it, boss.” Giovanni nods his head, but there isn’t an ounce of terror in his eyes, as if he knows my dad won’t pull the trigger or either he simply isn’t afraid of being killed. Makes me wonder which it is.

As Dad holsters his weapon back inside his jacket, a shuffling noise catches all of our attention. Dad turns from in front of me and that’s when I see all six feet, two inches and two hundred and fifty pounds of a seething Matteo De Salvo standing in the entryway to the kitchen, his phone clutched in his right hand at his side.

That foreboding feeling you get when someone is about to tell you bad news washes over me as I take in and try to decipher the look plastered all over his handsome face.

“Did you do it?” Matteo asks, his ocean-blue eyes trained on my father.

“Do what, Matteo? You’ll have to be specific. I do a lot of things.” Dad crosses his arms and widens his stance.

“Murder my daughter’s mother,” he says through clenched teeth. My eyes widen in shock at his mention of Kennedy’s death, and I know without a shred of doubt that it wasn’t Daddy. Domenico had that look in his eyes after I killed Cal the other night. I was surprised when he had Ren stuff Kennedy’s unconscious body in the drunk of car instead of ending her life right then and there, in that warehouse. “You aren’t even surprised.”

“You wouldn’t be able to tell whether I was or was not surprised. You could stand to learn what a poker face is if you’re going to make it in this family.”

“That’s not answering the question, Tony,” he spits out.

“Are you going to stand there and tell me she didn’t deserve what happened to her? That she isn’t the cause of her own death?”

“That’s not the point. How am I supposed to tell my little girl her mom is dead?”

“With your mouth, the same fucking way I did, or do you need someone to tell you how to wipe your ass too?” Dad shakes his head and then stomps toward Matteo, only to stop in front of him. “Better to bury that bitch than to bury your daughter or mine. Move the fuck out of my way and think about that shit, De Salvo.”

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