Page 18 of The Mafia’s Fiancee

“She’s not.”

“That just shows me how little you know,” he taunted. “You stupid, ignorant motherfucker. You should’ve paid attention before trying to take what’s mine.” He raised his voice with every word, stalking toward me as he cocked his head the other way.

Did he have an issue with his neck or something? I furrowed my brow, wondering exactly how unhinged this fool was as he approached.

I was ignorant when I met Emma. I didn’t know she was a mafia princess. Or that some idiot like Antonio thought she belonged to him. But then again, she was ignorant of me, too, in the same boat of not realizing I was the bastard son of another mafia boss.

But this man was wrong. Antonio was incorrect in his assumption that Emma belonged to him. She’d never accepted his offer for marriage.

She’d accepted mine.

“Emma’s not yours,” I told him simply.

He bared his teeth, growling as he lunged at me. His arm shot out, but when his fist hit my cheek, it barely cut the corner of my lip.

I didn’t react, letting my head swivel with the strike. He showed more of a response, wincing as he shook out his hand and then rubbed his knuckles with his free hand.

One punch was too much for him to bear? I huffed a laugh, amused by the irony.

He was a violent man, but he let others do his dirty work for him.

Pathetic.

“Emmalina Giordino will be mine,” he said, butchering her name. It tempted me to laugh again, but I wanted to hear the nonsense he’d spout. I wouldn’t gain any intel or information by laughing at his face and pissing him off any further.

“And you, you worthless piece of shit, will pay for taking out one of my best fighters.”

“Best fighters?” I taunted. “That’s the best you got, Marchese?”

He tipped his head side to side again, like a bobblehead off-course. It only made him look that much more deranged. I was pissing him off, but it seemed that he knew how much it’d hurt to hit me again.

“You pay in kind for taking his life.” He sneered down his nose at me, looking like a monster with such hatred glowing in his dark eyes. “And you won’t have another fucking chance to try to keep me from my intended.”

I rolled my eyes, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Finish him,” he ordered to the three men in the room. “And make him suffer.”

I bided my time as he walked toward the door. It should’ve sounded like a death sentence, but three against one? With this rickety chair as a weapon? That was doable. Marking the sound of his steps toward the exit, I let the excitement of a fight push me to be ready. The adrenaline rush at the promise of danger thrilled me.

“I’m going to get her,” Antonio told a guard at the door.

“Tonight?” the soldier asked. “So soon?”

Antonio scoffed. “I’m sick of waiting for what I want.”

It felt like so long ago that I’d teased Emma about that—being a girl who always got what she wanted. Now, I really knew the meaning of that kind of selfishness. Antonio was the master of it.

“We got word that Marlo’s damn near dead.”

I perked up, hearing my father’s name, but I didn’t let it show. Looking blankly at the ground, I listened to their hushed conversation.

“Which means I need to take over the Giordinos now, to complete the total transfer of power.”

I slotted this information away, learning at rapid speed how these politics would actually impact me. I was Marlo’s son. If there was a transfer of power waiting to happen, I assumed it would go from father to son—without any interference from the Giordino or Marchese forces.

He’s mad that I slept with her.

He’s angry that I killed his fighter.