Bad Princess: A Mafia Romance

by N. E. Henderson

  Copyright © 2021 by Nancy Henderson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used as fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you wish to share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Editor: Charisse Hankins

  Beta Reader/Editor: Tesha Cupak

  Proofreader: Amber Reid

  Proofreader: Nikkita McDuffle

  Proofreader: Rosa w/ My Brother’s Editor

  Cover Art: Jay Aheer

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Models: Pat and Dina

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-948539-13-5

  Contents

  Pronunciations

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Also by N. E. Henderson

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Maddy.

  You were the first to love them after me. Thank you for reading this story, offering feedback, and continuing to message me, asking for more chapters. You made me stay accountable to the end. This book is for you. — Love, Nancy

  Pronunciations

  Sienna - see-en-uh

  Matteo - mat-te-o

  Domenico - duh-men-i-koh

  Krishna - krish-nuh

  Nikolayev - nik-uh-lah-yuhf

  Capisce - ca-peesh

  Chapter 1

  SIENNA

  I slap the button on the gear stick of my gray, Mercedes AMG GT Coupe into park harder than it deserves. I’ve been fuming since I received a text message from my brother, Ren, fifteen minutes ago. As a result, my poor car has taken the brunt of my anger since I left the gym in a haste.

  Luckily, I hadn’t gotten as far as the women’s locker room, so I hadn’t changed out of the clothes I’d dressed in this morning. Thank fuck for Vin, too. It’s the only reason I was able to beat my brother here. God, I hope Dad only sent Ren and not Dom too. I can sway my twin much easier than I can our older brother.

  A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of what Domenico is going to do when he gets his hands on Vin. How could he be so stupid? I wasn’t even supposed to be at the gym this evening, but I missed my early morning training session. It’s the only reason I was as close to where my moronic friend hangs out.

  Closing my eyes, I wrap both hands around the steering wheel, squeezing the leather as I pull in a long, slow, calming breath through my nose. As I release it from my lips, my day mask sheds, letting the other Sienna Caputo make a public appearance. Slowly lifting my lashes, I glance in the rearview mirror, looking at my dark brown eyes and the black eyeliner coated thickly around them, the perfect wing end completing my look.

  I am just as mentally and physically strong as my brothers, I chant to myself, seconds before pressing the button to turn off the ignition and climb out of the car. I am, dammit, and the whole goddamn world will see that one of these days.

  Perhaps in ten short weeks, whether anyone likes it or not. That’s a promise to myself I intend to keep. I parked in an open spot directly in front of the single-door entrance to Raymond’s; a dive bar on the outskirts of town in one of the more seedier communities of Long Island.

  Yanking the glass door open, I step inside a dimly lit open room. The bar is to my left against the wall, tables and chairs with patrons scattered about litter the main area in front of me. All of them men, shooting the shit with their buddies after work before they go home to wives, girlfriends, families.

  A couple of pool tables and a dartboard line the back of the place. I see Vin almost instantly, but he’s yet to see me. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath when I spot Matteo De Salvo sitting to Vin’s right and Levi King in front of Matteo at the four-top table. I’m not surprised to find Matteo here. I know he frequents this bar; he has since before it was legal for him to drink. I know this because my brothers used to come here for the same reason—easy access to all the booze underage patrons could ever want; perhaps even more than just alcohol lurks among these walls.

  What I didn’t know was that Matteo and Vin are acquainted, or maybe even friends. Why I didn’t know is the current question ping-ponging around in my head. Calvin—or Vin as I know him—and I have known each other far too long for me not to know that he’s friends with the Matteo De Salvo—the current world heavyweight champion of boxing.

  You’d think with someone of Matteo’s stature, he’d find better places to hang out than here among questionable individuals. I’m judgy, I know. Him being here fucks with my state of mind.

  As I stalk toward their table, fire licks the skin underneath my black leather jacket the closer I get. The knife I keep concealed inside my right sleeve itches against my wrist, wanting to join the party. Vin’s already in deep shit over Levi. If Vin brought Matteo into his mess, I will make him bleed from every pore on his body until he begs me to turn him over to my father, Antonio Caputo. Domenico won’t even get to lay a finger on Vin if I find out that’s the case—and it better not be the goddamn case.

  My father is the Boss—or the Don, or even capo dei capi, if you prefer the television version—among the Italian-American Mafia. The latter was placed upon him many years ago by the media before Domenico was born. My grandfather and great-grandfather also adorned that eye roll worthy of a title once upon a time. It sounds stupid to me; though I’ve been told my great-grandfather loved seeing it next to his name in newspapers back in the day.

  My dad usually goes by Tony or Boss, nothing too formal, but Don Caputo isn’t a term unheard of in my house from time to time by associates of his. He reigns over the Northeast and Midwest region of the United States, after all—a rank he doesn’t take lightly. Soon he’ll own the southern region and then only the West remains left to be claimed.

  My gaze roams to my left, catching the bartender’s head as it snaps up at see
ing my presence. Bennett’s eyes meet mine for all of two seconds before I hear a curse slip from his lips. Glancing down, I witness the draft beer he’s dispensing into a pint glass overflowing, the amber liquid running over the top of his hand about the same time Matteo and Vin see me approaching their table. The dumb-fuck in front of Matteo is oblivious to my approach, and continues to run his mouth when the other two at the table have stopped talking, their gazes tracking me.

  I don’t bother asking if I can take a seat before I wrap my left hand around the top of the chair to Levi’s right, snatching it backward, the legs making a scraping sound as I drag it against the dirty concrete ground. Vin’s hazel eyes narrow when they reach my irritated dark gaze. It could be the dim lighting in this bar, but they appear light brown today, like muddy water.

  “What’s up, Sienna?” Vin asks, a cautious undertone evident in his question while his eyes are silently saying, what the fuck are you doing here?

  I sit my jean-clad behind down, placing both of my elbows on the table, ignoring the way the top tips toward my side at the unevenness of either the floor or the table legs. My eyes never veer from Vin, both of us silent for at least ten seconds before his mouth goes to open again.

  “Don’t,” falls from my lips. “I told you, Vin. I told you on four different occasions not to bring Levi into your business, and four times you said, ‘fuck you, Sienna.’”

  “Stop right there,” he spits out, his face heating. Vin has blond hair with a touch of red—or maybe it’s strawberry-blond—with fair skin. The tiniest amount of irritation always makes his face flush, his skin reddening like the snap of fingers. “I never said—”

  “Your actions say otherwise,” I fire back, cutting him off. “You may have not verbally said the words, but how else should I take it when I explicitly told you that he was going to fuck you over, and you disregard my warning?”

  “What the fuck, you little bitch? If you have a problem—” The sound of King’s voice amplifies my rage, but to the naked eye he wouldn’t realize that; none of them would. I’m good at hiding what I’m feeling. It’s a skill I’ve perfected over the years; training that my father personally taught me from a young age.

  My eyes can’t help themselves as they flick to Matteo at that very thought. Our gazes briefly meet before I turn my head, my dark irises hardening when they land on the lowlife sitting next to me.

  “Don’t speak to me,” I warn Levi with a quick shake of my head, cutting him off before he finishes a sentence that’s bound to spike my temper even more than he already has.

  Before I can open my mouth to continue my conversation with Vin, Levi decides to say ‘fuck your warning’ by opening his trap again. “Look, cunt—”

  My left elbow lifts off the table, connecting with his mouth, physically not allowing him to finish his sentence. The impact sends a jolt of pain through my upper arm and over my shoulder. My ass is out of the chair the next second, my fingers plunging into his mop of dirty-blond hair as my nails claw at his scalp. I tighten my grip, fisting my hand around a chunk of his greasy strands. With force, I slam his forehead down on the hard surface of the table, making their pint glasses tip over and crash to the ground.

  “I said, don’t speak to me. That wasn’t a request. It was an order, you stupid fuck,” I seethe, inches from his ear.

  I really hate men like him—pathetic waste of air.

  The silence inside the bar is deafening, but no one intervenes to help Levi. Matteo’s expression doesn’t go unnoticed from my peripheral. His mouth wide from shock, his jaw damn near sits on the table. Yeah, I bet you never saw violence coming from me. He doesn’t know everything about me; not that he ever tried to get to know me in the first place, because he didn’t. In fact, he refused to do just that.

  “Jesus, Si,” Vin breathes out my name. “Was that really necessary?”

  The fact that he has the audacity to ask that after his pissant brother-in-law just called me a cunt has me questioning our relationship. Vin is a friend; not a close one, but still a friend, nonetheless. That’s all he is and that’s all he’ll ever be.

  There was a time he wanted more, but I quickly set him straight—he isn’t my type and that will never change. I have one type and he doesn’t fit the bill. Once that was cleared up, he and I found out we got along quite well. We met my freshmen year of college at the campus gym and we became workout buddies that first day.

  I retract my fingers from Levi’s head, shoving him as I take my cell phone out of the back pocket of my jeans with my clean hand and wipe my other off by running my palm down the side of my pants. When it’s as clean as it’s going to get short of washing it, I take a seat again. My eyes go to my phone, bringing it to life, then I locate the text message I got from my brother. After I have it pulled up, I tap on the photo Ren sent, then I place the phone down on the table, sliding it in front of Vin.

  “I don’t know, was that necessary?” I grill, leaning my back against the chair and then fold my black, leather-clad arms over my chest, my eyes on Vin as he picks up the phone, staring at the photo. I feel a set of ocean-blue eyes on me that heats me deep inside my core, but I stay still, fighting the urge to squirm in my seat. It takes more effort than it should to force my eyes to remain rooted to Vin’s face.

  Vin’s brows crease between his eyes as he scrutinizes the picture of Levi shaking hands with Fredrico Romano—or Rico “the rat” Romano, as he’s known among the families on this side of the country.

  Matteo’s uncle, Giovanni De Salvo, is serving a life sentence because Rico testified against him in a murder trial. God only knows why Rico isn’t dead for that deed, and now Vin’s sister’s good for nothing husband is caught in a photo with the rat himself only a couple of months after my father put Vin on his payroll.

  Vin’s head snaps up, his wide eyes first locking on mine and then going to Levi’s. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he barks out, snapping his jaw closed as he stares his brother-in-law down. About the time his face reddens with anger at the realization that Levi has fucked him over, the sound of screeching tires from outside makes my body tense, knowing whoever walks inside isn’t going to show the least bit of sympathy for Vin, even if he didn’t know Levi was involved with Rico.

  My head swings from Vin to Matteo. “Whatever happens, I need you to not react. Don’t say a word, Matteo. Don’t even move a muscle.”

  “What’s going on?” Matteo inquires in a calm but cautious tone. I don’t get the chance to answer his question before I hear the bell on the door jingle, signaling someone has swung it open.

  “Trust me,” is all I have time to say and I pray he hears the plea in my voice.

  “Sienna,” Vin whispers, pulling my attention back in front of me as a set of heavy hands land on my shoulders.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Ren muses, making me relax for the first time since I arrived. My twin. Ren isn’t just my brother, only older than me by two minutes, he’s my best friend too. Him, I can work with. Vin might have a chance at surviving the night. It’s a small chance, but a chance, nonetheless.

  “Go home, Si.” Fuck! Domenico.

  “I’m good.” I reply, my eyes finding Matteo, issuing a silent order not to make one move. His life depends on it.

  “You broke my fucking nose!” Levi finally sputters out.

  Dark, sinister laughter comes from behind me and Ren squeezes my shoulders, as if to say, ‘way to go.’ “Motherfucker, you’re lucky that’s all she broke. Let me guess, elbow?”

  Dom lets a snicker slip past his lips as he comes to stand to the side of the table between Vin and me. “Definitely an elbow. Left one at that,” Dom responds. “If it’d been her right cross, he wouldn’t have any teeth left.”

  “Yeah,” Ren agrees. “I’ve been on the receiving end of her knuckles. Not something I recommend if you can avoid it.”

  I tip my head backward, looking up at my brother, and give him a fuck you stare right back. Lorenzo will never get over the fact t
hat I knocked out two of his teeth—baby teeth—once upon a time. He’s such a whiner.

  “Take him,” Dom orders to someone I can’t see with Ren blocking my view behind me. Vin starts to rise but he’s met with resistance when Dom places a firm hand on his shoulder, shoving him back down into his seat. “Him too,” he says, and I realize he’s motioning to Matteo.

  “He stays,” I breathe, the fire in my voice coming out as a warning to whichever one of my father’s men that’s approaching. Ren’s eyes dip down to mine and then skate over to Matteo’s. It’s only a second, two at the most, before he realizes who is sitting next to Vin.

  Matteo De Salvo isn’t a “made man,” though his father grew up in a “connected” family. His mother didn’t want that life for herself or her family. I’m guessing his dad didn’t either. Matteo grew up somewhat normal, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a force to be reckoned with. He’s a boxer, the current reigning world champ at that, the same as his father once was years ago, only Matteo is three times the fighter his old man was.

  Dom holds up his hand, halting one of the men. I have to give it to Matteo, he seems to be listening to me, though there is no doubt that he knows who my brothers are. Even someone like him knows you don’t come out the winner going up against a Caputo.