Page 9 of Secret Mafia Daddy

“No, Alyssa,” I tell her, taking her hands in mine. “You have to wait for the right guy, not just latch onto the only one to give you a slice of his attention.

“Lots of guys give me attention,” she says flippantly, but I know what she went through when Santino cheated on her. And it wasn’t much better the second time, and it won’t be the third.

“Exactly,” I say softly. “Which is why you don’t have to worry about Santino. There’ll be other guys, better ones, who treat you right.”

“I don’t know, Cat. Seems like you have to take what you can get,” she huffs, but she squeezes my hands. “I guess I’ll hold out just a little longer, though.”

“Good to hear,” I say, and then I take a breath, feeling like I owe her an explanation. “And as for why I’m not as wild as I was in high school… I guess it’s Chelsea, you know?”

“You never did tell me about her father,” Alyssa says quietly, maybe even a bit fearful, as if afraid I’ll bite her head off for asking. Which might not be far from the truth.

“And I never will,” I say firmly. “Suffice it to say it was a mistake, okay?”

“Everyone sleeps with guys they’ll regret,” she says mournfully.

That isn’t exactly true, or at least it hadn’t been, for me, except for that one time.

And it isn’t like that’s ever going to happen again.

“Yeah,” I say and pour us a couple of margaritas. I need one, after that conversation.

Alyssa and I day-drink most of the day, singing songs we used to scream-sing in high school and dancing around, until she gets a call.

“Hey,” she answers, and I’m sitting on the couch, or rather, lying on it, looking at her with half-lidded eyes.

“Who’s that?” I ask, the edge of a slur to my voice.

She waves her hand, but from the look in her eyes, I just know it’s Santino.

“Alyssa, don’t!” I urge, but she’s already standing up and walking out onto the balcony of her second-floor apartment.

I sigh, plopping down further on the couch, knowing I’ll have to get a ride home.

I call the only person I can be sure to count on in this city – Alonzo, my stepfather.

“DeLuca,” he answers professionally.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound sober. “I need a ride home.”

He pauses and then chuckles. “Drink too much at Alyssa’s?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “And she’s going to be picked up by her boyfriend and I just don’t wanna hang out here alone.”

“All right, bellissima,” he says gently. “I’ll send a car for you. But why don’t I get you a hotel room? I don’t want you having to play mom all weekend when this is supposed to be your weekend off.”

My heart swells with love for him. He may have his cons, but Alonzo does care about me, he always has, that’s why he adopted me.

“That’d be great, Papa,” I say softly, and he hums.

“I’ll book you a room at the Ritz,” he says, and I grin, unable to help myself.

“Can I get room service?” I ask.

“Anything you want,” he agrees, and I silently punch the air, thinking about how I’m going to tear up all of the candy at the minibar.

Maybe sometimes it is nice to be a mafia princess, even if I don’t like it most of the time.

The car he sends comes along with a massive man around my father’s age who looks like he’ll kill me rather than drop me off safely, but he’s quiet and drops me off at the Ritz easily.

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