Bad Princess: A Mafia Romance

by N. E. Henderson

  Besides, he didn’t gain his reputation by being thought of as old. Most people won’t even look him in the eye, and Dom can’t be that eager to step into Dad’s shoes this soon, can he?

  “We don’t have time to stop by the house. Can you make it work?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “There’s another one, but it’s basically a prelude to the fuck me dress.”

  Dom sighs heavily. “I’d say it was your twin fucking with you, but he didn’t come home last night either.”

  “Where’s Ren?” I ask as I yank the unprofessional white blouse from its hanger. Glancing in the mirror, I see Dom’s eyes are on the road, so I pull my tank over my head.

  “Getting his dick wet, I would imagine. At least he better be. I’ve about had it with his brooding, mopey shit.” I slide my arms through the material and start buttoning it from top to bottom.

  “He can fuck, but I can’t?” My lips purse and my eyes narrow at the back of his head.

  “You can,” he says in an all too calm voice, and then his dark eyes cut to the rearview mirror, his expression deadly. “So long as you’re okay with me breaking the motherfucker’s neck.”

  “Sexist ass,” I chime. Dom shrugs, but flicks his eyes back to the road.

  “Only with you, little sister. Only with you.”

  Pulling the red dress pants from the hanger, I slip my shorts off, tossing them to the floor, and then pull on the pants. I’ll do the jacket when we arrive or I’ll start sweating.

  “So, do you have a plan, or did you get a read on Bianchini? Do you think he’s interested in selling our fightgear in his gyms?” My travel makeup case is sitting on the seat next to me, but having already put on my clothes I know I’ll get shit on me if I try to doll myself up, so I open the bag and grab mascara and a tube of lipstick.

  “That’s your area,” my brother responds. “Didn’t you just say this not five minutes ago? I figured getting the meeting and escorting you there would be enough on my part.”

  “Now you’re just being a dick.”

  “Maybe if you’d been in your own bed instead of me having to pull you out of De Salvo’s, then I’d be in a better mood. You fuck him?”

  “Again, none of your business.” What is it with him and Dad? Do they really think that because I’m a girl I’m supposed to keep my V-card until I’m married like the Italian tradition the Mafia is known to expect from the women in the family? Grandpa, sure. If it were up to him, I would have been married to a made man and pregnant with a bambino at the age of nineteen instead of college bound.

  Of all the things the criminal organization of the Italian people could honor, it’s a woman’s virtue until her wedding night. It’s laughable really, and I find it hard to believe my father waited to have sex with my mother until they were married, so he can’t expect the same thing from me.

  Besides, it’s the twenty-first fucking century. It shouldn’t be as hard as it is for a twenty-three-year-old to get laid—but it so fucking is.

  Chapter 29

  MATTEO

  After I hear the click of the door shutting, I turn to face my mother, only to find her pale blue eyes narrowing in my direction. She’s either seconds away from blowing up, giving me an earful, or simply finding the nearest object and beating my ass with it—in the literal sense.

  “Irongirl,” I call out to get my daughter’s attention. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and clean up your chocolate-covered face.”

  “Sure, Daddy.”

  She bounces up and down on her toes before sprinting down the hall and out of earshot as my stare remains locked with my mom’s. After a long stretch of silence, I inhale and then release a sigh. Before I can speak, my mother beats me to it. “Have you taken so many blows to the head that you’ve lost all the sense I taught you?”

  “Stop being dramatic, Ma.” Stepping forward, I walk the short distance to the kitchen and pull out a bottle of water from the fridge. Normally, I’d be rushing to my coffee maker, needing a steaming cup of Joe to wake me up, but this morning it isn’t needed. I haven’t slept a full night since Brooklyn was born. I always wake up during the night to check on her, and it usually takes me going another solid hour on the heavy bag to get back to sleep before I’m dragging my body back out of bed only a few short hours later.

  Was it because I had a warm body in bed with me?

  The click of her sandals against the hardwood floor clues me in that my mother followed me, so I turn around to face her as I uncap the plastic bottle, taking a swig of cold aqua.

  “You call me dramatic when it’s you that has a criminal in your home?”

  “Does she have a rap sheet that you somehow know about?” I ask, my brows furrowing. “Has she done something illegal that you’re privy to, Ma?” I love this woman. I’ve always respected her above anyone else. She’s the best mother anyone could be gifted, but she’s taken this too far.

  “She’s connected. She’s one of them, Matteo, and if you think for a second that you won’t get caught up in their life—”

  “Jeez.” I cut her off before she continues. “I’m not planning to marry her. I just want to date her.” My words taste sour on my tongue, but they aren’t untrue. I do want to date her, or fuck her, or I don’t know, find out what it is about her that I can’t get out of my head. To figure out why, even as a teenager, there was something intriguing about her.

  “Her father is the boss. Not a capo. Not a made man or soldier, not even an associate of theirs. He’s the boss, Matt. The one with all the power. Did I keep you so far away from your father’s family that you know nothing about the mob?”

  “I know who Tony is, Ma.”

  “He’s a Caputo. He’s the worst of the worst kind of man, Matteo. He’s a murderer. He’s a criminal. And he’s untouchable. That in itself should make you turn and walk in the other direction when you see him. That should make you not want your daughter—my granddaughter—anywhere near anyone in that family or connected to them. What were you thinking getting mixed up with that girl?”

  “First,” I bite out, surprising myself with the tone I’m giving the woman that gave birth to me. “Her name is Sienna. Secondly,” I say, forcing my tone to ease up. “I’m not mixed up with anything. I’m simply taking Sienna out on a date tonight. You know, to see how things go and to see if we hit it off.” I already know we’re gonna hit it off. The chemistry between us is off the charts. She’s bold and sassy and she’s a turn-on like no woman before.

  “You don’t simply do anything with the Boss’s daughter. Thinking that shows your stupidity.” She breathes in, pulling in a lungful of air before blowing her breath out in frustration. “I worked so hard to keep you away from that life. Why would you willingly go after the one woman every man with any common sense should stay the hell away from? Why would you do this to me, Matteo?”

  “Ma, I’m not doing anything to you. You’re taking all of this way too serious. You’re searching for a reason to not like her when you don’t even know Sienna.” She did the same thing with Kennedy. It was instant dislike, a fact she didn’t try to hide in front of my ex.

  “I don’t need to know her, Son. And maybe she isn’t a bad person, though growing up in that life, I find that hard to believe. But she was born into the wrong family; that is something I cannot help. You, on the other hand, need to cancel whatever date you were planning and distance yourself now before it’s too late.”

  “I’m not canceling our date. I like her. Brooklyn likes her too, and,”—I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips—“Sienna is good with her. She’s great with her, in fact.”

  “I can’t believe the words that are coming out of your mouth right now, or the fact that you let my granddaughter around anyone connected to the Mafia.”

  “My uncle is Giovanni De Salvo. We’re already connected to the mob, or did you forget he is Dad’s brother?”

  “And he’s in prison. That’s what happens to people in the mob, Matteo. It’s either prison o
r death. That is not the life I want for you. It’s certainly not the life I want for Brooklyn. She is the person you need to think about right now and put first, not yourself.”

  “The life I give my daughter and the life I choose for myself is mine and mine alone. Maybe Sienna will be part of that, or maybe she won’t, but I won’t know that until I see where this thing between her and me is going.”

  “I’ll never accept her, Matteo. Ever.” Her vow slams into my chest like a hammer, and all I can do is sigh, hoping like hell I’m not given an ultimatum like my father was. I can tell her right now I won’t stop going after Sienna. I’m going to see it through; if anything just to see what’s there, because there is something, and I don’t think it’s just the drive to get into her pants.

  “Then I guess you’ve said your piece.”

  One thing about my mother is that no one can change her mind except her. She’ll either come around or she won’t. I guess asking her to watch Brooklyn for a couple of hours is out of the question.

  “Where are we taking Sienna on our date, Daddy?” Brooklyn asks from her booster seat in the back of my Lexus as I pull into Tony Caputo’s driveway, stopping and parking behind a black, Mercedes G Class. Fuck, these people have money.

  I don’t consider myself rich. I make a decent living doing fights a few times a year and my house is paid for, so I don’t have jack shit to complain about. I know there are a lot of people more well off than me, but there are even more that don’t have it as easy as I do.

  “The Flamingo.” I’d texted Sienna around noon, telling her I’d pick her up at eight. She replied, telling me to eat shit and die. I didn’t figure a follow-up to that was needed since I gave her a time to be ready. Her car is parked in front of the closed garage, so at least that’s a sign she’s here.

  “That don’t sound like pizza, Daddy.”

  “Because it’s not. It’s fancy food,” I inform her. I figured when I dressed her in a dress and shoes that she typically wears to Mass with my parents she would have caught on that we were going to a nice restaurant, but then she is five, and her idea of nice is pizza.

  “But she likes pizza, Daddy, like me.”

  “I’m sure she likes fine dining too, Daughter. Besides, you look pretty in the new dress Nana bought you last week. Don’t you like your dress?”

  “I lovvvvve my dress, Daddy,” she draws out, her blue eyes big and round, sparkling through the rearview mirror. The sight of my daughter makes my heart swell. I’d do anything to keep a smile on this girl’s face.

  “Well, let’s grab Si so that I can take the two prettiest girls out to dinner.”

  After pulling her out of her booster seat, I close the door and place her on the pavement. She doesn’t walk beside me. Instead, she takes off for the front door. By the time I step up the stairs to the expansive porch, the front door is opening.

  Tony’s eyes cast down to Brooklyn, before glancing over her head to look at me, his expression blank and unreadable.

  “Figured you’d have a housekeeper to answer your door,” I say.

  “My housekeeper cleans my house. She isn’t responsible for kicking the varmints off my property. What do you want, De Salvo? It’s late. Doesn’t your kid have a bedtime?”

  Flicking my wrist up to view the time, I cut my eyes back to Tony as he crosses his arms. “It’s five ‘til eight. And my kid’s bedtime is my business, not yours.”

  Before I can continue, Brooklyn chimes in. “We’re taking Si to a fancy dinner.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he says on a sigh. “What is wrong with your generation? Do you not know proper dating etiquette?” He places his hands on his hips, his eyes going from me to Brooklyn and then back to me, a scowl on his face. “I’ve heard of take your kid to work day but take your kid on date night . . . really, De Salvo? That’s how your mother raised you?”

  My jaw locks as my anger flares. Forcing my teeth to stay together so that I don’t pop off takes more willpower than it should. After a long beat with Tony and I locked in a stare down, I realize he’s not going to be the first to speak, so I shove my hands into the pockets of my black slacks.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t have a babysitter on retainer. My daughter goes where I go unless she’s with my parents or her mother, and the latter is out of the question at this time.”

  “I should hope so, considering,” he growls, leaving the rest of his thought open for interpretation. His dark eyes flare with fire and disgust, allowing me to see just what he thinks of my daughter’s mother. My own mirrors his, but I’m not about to tell him that, especially in front of Brooklyn. Besides, I have my own thoughts as to what took place at Kennedy’s supposed heroin overdose. I doubt she was the one that administered the needle in her arm. Question is, was it Antonio Caputo or someone else?

  “Can I just get Sienna and leave now?” I request, leaving his remark unanswered. “I don’t want to be late for the reservation at the restaurant.”

  “Too bad,” he utters, his expression changing to amusement, and perhaps even triumph. “You’re an hour too late from her departure for her other date.”

  “What other date? I’m her date,” I declare, my spine straightening.

  “Apparently not, De Salvo. She left with someone else.”

  “What the—” I stop myself before I yell a curse word in front of Brooklyn. Once again, my teeth smash together to keep my mouth from spewing words that would likely get me shot. She fucking knew I was coming to get her, and yet still went on a date with someone else?

  “I told you, Daddy, we should have taken her for pizza. Not some fancy place like you told me,” Brooklyn chimes in, shaking her head like she’s little miss know-it-all.

  “Where?” I request, my words lethal.

  Smirking, Tony cuts his eyes down to Brooklyn, before squatting down to her level. “Do you like cake, sweetheart?”

  “I love cake. Who doesn’t love cake?”

  “There is a really sweet lady in the kitchen. Why don’t you head in there and tell her I said to cut you a very big slice. Would you like that?”

  What the hell is he doing? I don’t have time for this shit, nor do I plan to stay here any longer than I have to, but my daughter apparently doesn’t see this, as her head bobs, no words coming out of her mouth.

  Tony pulls her inside, lightly pushing her in the direction of what I assume is his kitchen. Brooklyn takes off running.

  “Where is Sienna?”

  “Why, Matteo? Are you going to storm into the restaurant and drag her out? If that’s your plan, do you really imagine my daughter not putting up a fight?” He laughs, but I don’t see the same humor he does. “And how is that going to even work when you have Brooklyn in tow? Think you can wrangle two women at the same time?”

  It sounds dumb as fuck the way he puts it, but that’s exactly what I want to do: pick her up, sling her over my shoulder, and tote her sexy ass out.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he says. “Leave the kid here and I’m willing to tell you where my daughter is.”

  “Why are you so quick to tell me, and no, I’m not leaving Brooklyn.”

  “You are leaving Brooklyn, because I’m offering and I said so, and because Sienna is at one of my restaurants, which means I have access to see how this plays out. I have no doubt the guy is going to see you and piss his pants if he recognizes you. Si, on the other hand . . .” Another laugh bubbles from his lips. “She’ll go toe to toe with you in a heartbeat, and well, it’s thrilling every time she kicks some schmuck’s ass.”

  “Just tell me the damn name of the place already and then send my daughter out here.”

  “I’ve already told you she is staying here. If you’re going to smash Sienna’s date, then you’re going to do it like a man. Bringing your five-year-old isn’t going to have the desired effect, De Salvo.” He licks his lips, eyeing me from the entryway. Tony is slightly one to two inches shorter than I am, but with the added inches from the threshold it
feels like he towers over me. I don’t like it.

  Looking past him, I gaze into his home. All the lights are on and it’s bright. I can’t see the kitchen or even the great room from where I stand. He has one of those grand foyers that opens up to two sets of staircases that go up to the same level on the second floor. I can’t see my daughter and I can’t hear her, but for whatever reason, I’m not worried that she’s in his house. For the life of me I don’t know why that is. I may not know all the details of this family, but I’ve heard enough throughout the years to know their business isn’t of the legal sort.

  “If you’re going to tell me you don’t trust me with your daughter, Matteo, then I’m going to tell you I don’t trust you with mine, and you can fuck off.” His brow over his right eye arches in challenge.

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say, Tony.” He told me the other day in his office I could call him by his nickname rather than Antonio or Mr. Caputo, or even Boss, thank God, because I don’t know if I could have done the latter. “Are you going to tell me where Sienna is?”

  “Constantino’s.”

  “Do you have restaurants that aren’t Italian?”

  “I’m not even going to answer that dumb-as-fuck question. Are you going to remain standing on my porch until she returns or are you planning to go after her?”

  “I’m surprised you’re letting me.”

  “It’s not my balls. Besides, I’m more interested in seeing what kind of man you really are and if you have the potential to live up to your last name.”

  “I think I’ve proven that more times than not every single time I step into a boxing ring, Tony.”

  “I’m not talking about your father’s legacy as a boxer. You’ve surpassed him and I’m sure he’s very proud of you for that. I’m speaking about the weight the De Salvo name carries. The reputation your uncle gained as a De Salvo.”