Page 1 of Mafia Daddy

1

CARLO

“Listen to me,figlio di puttana. If I was there, I’d be choking the life out of you. Now if you won’t give my associates what they need, I have no choice but to pay you a visit in an hour or two. And I promise you, that’s not something you want,pezzo di merda.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I loosen my tie. Needing some air to calm me down. My frustrations continue to grow from standing idly for a long time, waiting for her to arrive.

Twenty years of being loyal to the familia and doing all his dirty work, and I’m still nothing more than his fucking errand boy. Here I thought he sent me to fetch his daughter because I’m his most trustworthy man, but turns out, she could’ve walked all the way from the airport and he wouldn’t have given a damn.

I steal a glance at my watch for what is probably the hundredth time, only intensifying my irritation. Damn it. I should’ve been with my men, cornering that butcher and his sons. Instead, I’m here as a fucking driver.

The boss told me that her flight will arrive at 2 o'clock on the dot, but it’s an hour past that and she’s nowhere in sight.

Merda!

How much longer would I have to wait? Isn't she aware that I have other important matters to attend to? I'm not her damn chauffeur, and I won't be treated like one.

I blow out a harsh breath and massage the back of my neck. Just as I’m on the brink of losing my temper completely, a soft feminine voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Excuse me?"

I spin around and my eyes meet hers. It’s her. Cara. The one and only mafia princess. My heart slams in my ribcage the longer I stare at her. Something that never happens. Not even as I’m beating someone to a pulp.

I’ve seen her photos once or twice. But nothing has prepared me for what she looks like in person.

Bellissima.

She’s petite, maybe more than a foot shorter than me. Her long, golden hair flows down around her, framing her features. Her eyes are deep pools of emerald green.

She has high cheekbones and a small, pointed nose. Her lips curve slightly upwards and I find myself magnetically drawn to her.

Where has this girl been all my life? Ah, right. Abroad. She left when she was sixteen. Hasn’t come home in five years.

My eyes try to soak up the rest of her body. She's wearing a white dress that hugs her curves. The V-shape daring me to take a peek at her cleavage.

She clears her throat lightly. Apparently, I’ve been staring for too long.

"Excuse me. Are you here to pick me up?" she asks and inches towards me, closing the distance between us.

I give her a sharp, tight nod. "Yes, I am. I’m Carlo Castello.”

Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. She tries to hold my gaze but doesn't last long and shyly lowers her eyes, her blush deepening.

Interesting.

She clears her throat again and apologizes with a soft smile. "I'm sorry for the delay. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

I don’t mind waiting on you,principessa.

My previous anger has long been forgotten, and I try to maintain a professional demeanor as I reply, "No, not at all. It's my pleasure to assist you."

Fucking liar. Five minutes ago, I was ready to punch the nearest wall. Now I’m more than willing to carry her all the way to her home if she asks.

I lead her to the waiting car and open a door for her to climb in. Once she’s in, I close the car door gently and enter the driver's seat. I adjust the rearview mirror so I have a perfect view of her in the backseat. This drive is going to be challenging because I don’t want to take my eyes off her. Not for one second.

But her safety is my priority. From this moment forward, she’s my priority.

"You want to stop over somewhere?" I ask.

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