Page 100 of Pretty Little Princess

PYOTR

Blood boiling, I tap my fingers against the roof of my car, glaring into my front seat as I hold my phone to my ear.

“You need to start initiating negotiations with Don Lorenzo for guns,” she pushes, and her tone brooks no questions.

“You’re joking, right? We haven’t even made it to the wedding yet, and he barely seemed capable of holding a civil meal with us the last time you and I sat down with him.” It never ends with her. As soon as I get my head above water, she has another demand waiting to pull me back under.

“We have the leverage. Now that we have Lorenzo on the hook, you can use it. Tell him you’ll back out of marrying his daughter if the Marchettis don’t provide us the weapons we need. I can’t imagine him backing out now, and if he questions it, you can tell him it’s in place of a dowry.” Her clipped tone is businesslike. Cut to the chase, regardless of what that might mean for me. Or Silvia.

“No. You know what? I’m done taking orders.” I’ve finally made things right with Silvia, and I genuinely want to be with her. I won’t jeopardize that for some fucking guns. Even if my family needs them to ensure our Bratva survives. I’ll find another way.

“Oh, are you now?” she asks, her sarcasm coming thickly across the line.

“Yes,” I hiss. “I won’t do it. I’m done being your puppet. If you want to ask the Marchetti family for something, do it yourself. I’m out.”

Jerking my phone from my cheek, I punch the icon to end the call with a snarl.

Perfect. And now I’m going to be late picking Silvia up because my mother wouldn’t let me get off the phone. Not the way I wanted to start off our follow-up date after last week. This time, I’m determined to prove myself worthy of Silvia.

Even if I’m not, I’ll keep working for it until Idodeserve her.

Because Silvia’s worth fighting for.

I never thought I could be so crazy about a girl. I’ve had plenty before her, but none move me the way Silvia does. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known, and for some reason I can’t fathom, even though I offered to let her out of our contract, she still wants to be with me. I don’t plan on letting her slip through my fingers.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I reach for the handle of my car.

But movement in the window catches my eye, and I pause.

I was so distracted by my phone conversation I missed someone approaching behind me. The hair on the back of my neck prickles in delayed warning. I don’t have time to react. I don’t even have time to turn around.

Stars explode across my vision as something heavy collides with the back of my head. And the last thing I see is the white roof of my car rising to meet my face before I black out completely.

* * *

The world around me slowly swims back into view, my vision almost clearing, though a faint haze blurs the edges. My head rolls loosely on my neck, and I shake it, trying to clear the cobwebs from my brain.

What in the fuck?

“Look who’s finally decided to wake up from his nap,” sneers a cool, smooth voice.

Though it makes my head throb, I force my eyes in the direction of the person who spoke. Nicolo Marchetti leans against a work table, his arms crossed over his chest, and his legs stretched casually before him. The grin he turns on me tells me I’m in for a rude awakening.

“Took you long enough,” says another voice in the same register.

And I start to put the pieces together. Nicolo, Cassio, Lucca, they fucking jumped me once again. I vaguely recall seeing one of their reflections in my car window, baseball bat in hand.

“The fuck do you want?” I rasp, my voice coming out hoarse, and I swallow hard to bring moisture to my throat.

“What do wewant?” The questioning tone sounds amused, and I turn my gaze from Nicolo to find one of the twins.

Cassio. I’ve come to recognize him from his twin, Lucca, because Cassio has a thin scar running just below his right cheekbone.

“I wouldn’t say we want this,” Lucca states, joining his brothers before me. “We’re doing this for our sister.”

Nicolo snorts. “Speak for yourselves. Sure, I’m doing this for Silvi. But I promise, I’m going to enjoy every second of this.”

I snort, letting my head loll back as it grows too heavy for my neck. The rough wooden chair I’m strapped to with my arms tied behind me doesn’t have a high back–nothing to support the weight of my throbbing skull. For a moment, I’m blinded by a brilliant spotlight hanging high above me.

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