AllFreeNovel
Share Us
PROLOGUE
There’s a fire in me that won’t go out, and sometimes it rises up.
Here’s the curse that comes with being born a mafia princess — it finally flew to my shoulder and landed, with it’s claws piercing into me and its beak stretching open.
I’m being sent away to an old gothic mansion, where I will be sold off into marriage. To a brute. I don’t even know which brute.
As the limo swallows up the road, I huddle in the far back corner, watching Mikey as he expertly drives the stately beast. It’s hard to keep from welling up.
Mikey has been my bodyguard and my driver since I was a little girl in Sunday school dresses. After today, I might never see Mikey again.
I know that one of my brothers is behind this. They both know that I would make a better heir by far to take over the family from Daddy. I would lead the family into new ventures, up to new heights. I would certainly do a better job than either of those spineless wimps.
I love them both, but they couldn’t run a room full of slot machines between them without getting robbed blind every day. The machines themselves would rob them and they’d never even see it.
And I’m the eldest. But I’m not a boy. And anyway, it’s all too late now.
I’m about to become the property of one of three huge, sadistic brutes. It doesn’t make much difference which one, although I know it won’t be the one that matters. The one who will inherit. Anyway, there’s not a thing that I can do about it.
Mikey clears his throat as we pass through the big iron gates that will lead me into hell.
“You’ll land on your feet, Princess.” He clears his throat again. “You always do.”
His eyes glisten with moisture as they flick up to mine in the rear-view.
“I’m going to miss you, though.”
CHAPTER ONE
When Gianni heard the big black dog bark once, he must have leaped straight out of bed in his peach-colored silk pajamas, slid into his embroidered silk dressing gown, and grabbed the short-barrel shotgun as he dashed for the stairs.
The Don, my father, said he wanted Gianni Crespi scared. Taught a lesson.
Well, I did that. He was scared. And he won’t make those mistakes again.
He was furious at first. Of course. I broke into his big house. Got past all his fancy alarms.
I bribed his lovely cane corso guard dog with a steak. Instead of teaching and training his dog properly, the idiot just kept the poor beast hungry.
By the time the big man bustled his way down the stairs, I was in the dark waiting for him, hidden in his big, movie-star sunken lounge. He burst in, swinging the shotgun around like he was in a rap video. He should have completed the picture with a cigar clamped in the side of his greedy grin, but I guess he didn’t have time to fire one up.
I waited, quiet, behind the door.
As soon as he swaggered in, I flashed all of his movie-star spotlights on.
He squinted, dazzled and blinded. And I whacked him hard in the face with his heavy movie-star black wood door.
After that it was easy enough to relieve him of the weapon.
Blinking and waving his arm in front of his eyes, he panicked, staggering and slamming into the frames of his big Warhol prints as he backs against the wall. I think he recognized me, head to toe in black, though I can’t be sure. By then, it didn’t matter, anyway.
The dog whimpered at the window, wanting more steak. Gianni made a murderous lunge at me.
Maybe I’m wired all wrong. Very bad things can get me hot. I have to admit, the look in his face made my pulse hammer. There’s nothing I can do about it. Bad things like the glare in Gianni’s eyes — the mix of raw, spitting rage with a burning edge of suppressed terror.
That’s when he got properly scared. The unmistakeable white-eye stretch of fear when he caught the glint in my eyes and the flash of my blade. I pulled the knife up to make him stop.
But by the time he saw it, it was too late. He knew.
