Page 39 of Entangled Mafia Princess

“You think the kitty will be okay?” she asks.

“Don’t know. I’ll see if it comes back.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll get some chicken from the restaurant and set it out for the cat.”

“What if rats get to it first?” she asks with a grimace and looks around as if the mere mention of rodents might attract them.

“I was going to stick around for a while.”

She seems surprised. I don’t blame her. Hanging out in an alley in the middle of a winter night is not something most people plan on doing. But strays are my thing because I was one once.

“I’ll keep you company,” she says.

“Doesn’t princess need her beauty sleep?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You think I’m some spoiled, pampered girl who only cares about her looks?”

I give her a look that confirms what she just said. “You mean you’re not someone who spends her days shopping, indulging herself with spas, or jetting off on nice vacations?”

Her silence indicates I’ve hit the nail on the head.

“I’m a college student,” she finally replies. “I go to class.”

“For what purpose?”

“To get a college degree.”

“To do what?”

Again, she’s not able to respond right away. I leave it at that and head back to the restaurant to get the chicken.

“I’m only twenty-one. I don’t need to have my life figured out yet,” she says.

At twenty-one, I was helping my adoptive father move millions of dollars in arm sales.

I tell the server, who greets us more warmly after having received my tip, what I want. She doesn’t ask why I want partially cooked chicken on a plate and heads straightway to the kitchen.

“Did you know what you wanted to do with your life at twenty-one?” Casey challenges me.

“Yes,” I reply. “Follow in my father’s footsteps.”

“Well, I have no interest in following in my father’s footsteps. And even if I did, I don’t think my father would allow it. He just wants me to get married.”

“Already?”

“Yes! He even has the guy picked out.”

Intrigued, I ask, “Who?”

“A ‘good’ Irish boy,” she answers, rolling her eyes. “I mean, this is the twenty-first century for fuck’s sake.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Kenton Brady. He went to Notre Dame, and his family’s—” She catches herself and seems to select her next words carefully. “His family’s in the same line of business as my dad.”

Kenton Brady’s name is already in my dossier on Casey because his family is also Irish mafia, but I make a mental note to find out more about him.

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