Bad Princess: A Mafia Romance

by N. E. Henderson

  “Then what are you doing out this way?” I ask. Last I knew, he lived in Queens.

  “Can we talk?”

  “We are talking. And I asked you a question.” His size and his build haven’t gone unnoticed in the slightest. It never crossed my mind until now that Vin could have been that guy the morning I was attacked.

  “Si, come on. We were friends. Now you won’t answer my texts. Can we grab a drink maybe? Just to talk.” Vin and I were friends long enough that he knows bars aren’t my scene. Unless I’m going out with my brothers to a club, you won’t find me in one or a pub.

  He’s got an agenda. My gut is screaming to back away, but there is something else keeping me rooted to the ground. But what? Do I want him to admit it was him, and if so, is that what I want to know? Why and what the hell was he thinking? Or is it something else.

  “Spit it the fuck out, Vin. I’m losing my patience and I have somewhere to be. What are you doing here?” I raise my voice, not that it’s going to do any good. The street is practically empty.

  How is this my luck? This is New York for crying out loud.

  “Fine. You want to play it that way, then this is how it’s going to go.” He reaches for the door handle of the back seat and something about his tone or his body language causes me to take a cautious step backward.

  The door flies open, and it isn’t until I hear her cry out that I cut my eyes to the inside of the back seat. “Si,” she whimpers, eliciting a cold chill that runs down the length of my spine.

  Without thought, I say, “Brooklyn, come here.”

  “I don’t think so.” When I flick my stare back to him, he pulls a handgun from inside his leather jacket. “Get in the car.”

  Ignoring the weapon in his hand and that it’s aimed at me, I ask, “Why is Matteo’s daughter with you?” She was staying with his mother this afternoon and tonight. Fuck. What if something has happened to his mom?

  “Doesn’t fucking matter at this point. Get in the car, Sienna.”

  Brooklyn is quick for her small size. She bolts from the opened door and sprints to me. Stepping forward, I scoop her up, placing her on my hip farthest from Vin, farthest from the weapon he’s holding.

  “You little brat,” he seethes. “Both of you get in the goddamn car. Now!”

  I squeeze her to my chest with one arm, and with the other that isn’t in Vin’s line of sight, I ease my phone from my back pocket and slide it between us, praying she takes it.

  “You’re scaring her.”

  “I’m going to do a lot more than just scare the little bitch if you don’t follow orders.”

  “Just stop, Vin. Don’t do anything stupid,” I say.

  “If you don’t get inside the motherfucking car, the girl’s life is going to end real quick, Sienna.”

  “I hear you, okay? Just give me a second with her.” Turning my head, but keeping my eye on Vin, I kiss her temple and whisper, “Call Dom.” Then I place her on the ground, making sure she is faced away from Vin. Shoving her, I yell, “Run!” Then I leap in Vin’s direction, throwing myself at him and the gun.

  I’m not trying to attack or disarm him per se, though if I luck up, I’d be the luckiest bitch in the world tonight. As long as Brooklyn gets away, that’s all that matters. Alone and on the streets isn’t anywhere close to ideal, but I’d rather chance that and her call my brother than get in the car with Vin and not know what I’m getting us both into.

  I know Dom better than most. He’s still somewhere close to the casino waiting for me to leave. Ren is probably with him, and as long as Brooklyn is able to call him, he’ll see that she gets to safety. She’ll be safe when my brothers get to her.

  Jesus, I hope she doesn’t panic and forget what I told her. It was chaos; I didn’t make sure she heard me. Fuck.

  “You goddamn bitch!” he yells. Grabbing me by the shoulders, he shoves me into the backseat. Turning away, I try to move quick, pulling my keyring from my pocket and force them between the seat, praying he doesn’t see.

  Pushing myself up, I chance a peek over my shoulder, seeing the butt of the gun coming at me at lightning speed, then nothing . . .

  Chapter 43

  DOMENICO

  “Are we planning on hanging out here all night or going to the city?” Krishna complains to my right while Ren sits on my other side guzzling whiskey down like it’s a goddamn jug of milk.

  I’m going to have to do something about him sooner rather than later, but what? I don’t fucking know. He doesn’t need rehab, but he needs something. And that strip club he’s in every night isn’t helping. Dad should have never let him buy it last year. His time spent there is why our sister was almost raped or snatched or hell, she could have been six feet under the fucking ground right now.

  Ren knows he fucked up, but has he fixed his problem? No. If anything, it’s gotten worse. At least it’s booze and not dope, so there’s at least somewhat of a silver lining to the shitstorm that’s brewing.

  If I thought beating his ass would help, I would have already done that. He can take a beating. It doesn’t matter how much you throw at him, he can withstand anything. We’re alike in that way, and I used to think that was a good thing. Now I’m not so sure. I’m at a loss when it comes to my baby brother.

  “Yeah, we’re going to head out as soon as my sister leaves,” I say, eyeing the bottle in Ren’s fist. Can’t you drink from a glass like a normal fucking adult?

  “Which will be when?”

  I glance in Krishna’s direction. He turns to face me, his elbow leaned onto the bar, those goddamn penetrating glacier eyes staring through me. He makes me want to punch him in the face just as much as I want to close my hand around his throat and smash my lips to his.

  I don’t know why I can’t be normal. My sister has been infatuated with the same guy since she was a kid. Ren’s obsessed with someone and has been for a while, but no one knows who. He keeps her locked up tight, but then he’s always been the secretive one. My father only ever loved one woman. Even in her death, he’s still faithful.

  It’s not that I don’t enjoy women. I love pussy. I love to fuck it, eat it, smack it, whip it. Hell, I love to smell that shit. But, for some reason, I like hard just as much as I like soft. Fit women don’t do it for me. Whether they’re on the thicker side like my sister or the slimmer side like Krishna’s, I’m not attracted to them. I like curves, and hair. I like women with long locks and a big ass.

  Men, it’s the opposite. I like someone that I know can stand toe to toe with me. Someone who can give as hard of a punch as they can take. Someone who gets turned on at the sight of my blood on him.

  Maybe I’m just a sexual deviant. But do I care? No.

  I don’t flaunt it, but I don’t hide it either. I’m my own person, and acceptance isn’t something I need. I like what I like, and I will not apologize for that to anyone. Ever.

  I’m about to pull up Sienna’s GPS location when my phone rings, displaying her name and pretty face. Ten minutes ago, she was still in the hotel, but her fight was over an hour ago. She has to be close to leaving if she hasn’t already.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Domino.” Brooklyn’s voice catches me off guard. She’s answered my sister’s phone a couple of times before, but to my knowledge Matteo’s daughter wasn’t here tonight. She wasn’t sitting with us during the match. Hell, she isn’t old enough to get in the door, and she wasn’t with my Dad or Sienna either, so . . . what’s going on?

  Her tone has alarm bells ringing, making me itch to reach for the weapon tucked between my jeans and the small of my back. There are metal detectors at the entrance of the casino, but when you’re me and know the right people, I don’t have to go through them.

  “Doll,” I say through the phone. Her snuffle is like icy needles piercing my skin. “I’m coming for you, sweetheart.”

  Grabbing Ren by the elbow, I pull him off the barstool. Krishna will follow, knowing that if I’m alarmed then someone is going to eat a
bullet before the night is over.

  I’m not a bad man, but I’m far from saintly. I’m certainly not the knight in shining armor my sister likes to think I am. I do what needs to be done. There are far more evil women and men that walk the streets than me, and when I can, I take them out, sending them to Hell where they belong.

  “Locate Sienna’s phone,” I order Ren as we exit one of the casino lounges.

  “What’s going on?” Ren demands, instead of pulling his phone out from wherever it’s tucked.

  “Just do what he says, Ren,” Krishna says as I put the phone back to my ear.

  “Baby doll, can you tell me where you are?” When no sounds come through I pull the phone away from my head to make sure the call is still connected. Seeing that it is, I place it back. “Brooklyn,” I coax. I’ve never actually said her full name, preferring to call her by a nickname that just came out one day.

  “There is sand and it’s dark. I’m scared, Domino.”

  “I’m coming. Just stay where you are. Keep the phone to your ear.”

  The beach is down the block on the hotel end, so that’s the direction I head. Where the fuck is my sister? I can’t focus on her yet. I just have to find Brooklyn, but I know when I do, I’m not going to react well if Sienna is hurt—or missing.

  “Come on,” I yell and quicken my pace into a run.

  Chapter 44

  MATTEO

  Sometimes you’ll find ten to twenty people in a boxer’s dressing room before a fight, chilling, shooting the shit, hyping up the fighter. Then, after the match, it’s often a madhouse with medical personnel, the press, everyone who was with you before the fight and then some.

  I can’t work like that. Before a fight I require solitude; that’s how I get my head in the game. It’s usually me and me alone. I don’t need someone telling me I got this match in the bag. Not even my father stays with me until I’m called to the ring. It’s why he’s sitting front row now, waiting for the main event.

  My promoter is standing outside the door, waiting to knock. Usually my manager is too, but since that ended the way it did, it’s just Tristen. I joked that Sienna could fill that role, and she can; that I fully believe. Question remains if she wants to. She told me last week when I asked that she’d think about it.

  I’m still waiting for her answer, which makes me nervous about the other question I plan to ask her later tonight. No fight I’ve ever been in has stressed me out like the state I’ve been in most of the day since leaving the jewelry store.

  What if I’m asking too soon? Moving too fast.

  Or worse—what if she says no?

  I sit on the edge of the leather chair, my elbows resting on my knees, every hope and doubt floating around in my head, causing more anxiety than I think I’ve ever felt. I would have thought she would have been here by now, so the fact that she isn’t is not helping my situation any. I told Tristen when she shows up to let her in. I want her in here with me. I want her walking out to the match by my side.

  My cell phone rings from inside my gym bag. I tucked it in the front zipper pocket when I jumped from my SUV after Dad and me arrived. Leaning to my left, I snatch it from the leather couch next to me, pulling the bag to the end of the table in front of me, hoping it’s Si telling me she’s here.

  When I flip the screen to face me, it’s an incoming FaceTime call from an unknown number. I press the decline button without a second thought. It wouldn’t be the first time that an overzealous fan somehow got my number through a friend of a friend and thought it would be acceptable to call me.

  Yeah, not dealing with that shit.

  It rings again and I do the same, my annoyance kicking up a notch. On the third back-to-back ring, I accept the call, about to tell the person on the other end of the line to piss the fuck off when the figure on the screen sends fiery heat through me, like a shard of glass digging its way down my spine in a slow torturous rhythm.

  Someone yanks her messy curls back in a hard jerk, exposing her face to the screen, a blade being placed at her throat. Other than the person’s black gloved hand and arms concealed in dark clothing, she’s the only thing I see. The phone isn’t still, like the person holding it is a fumbling idiot. My view of Sienna is making me dizzy, or that could be the realization that slams into my chest.

  She isn’t here because she isn’t coming. Someone has her.

  “Throw the fight in the fifth round, De Salvo, or Si will choke to death on her own blood before you step foot out of the ring tonight,” a man threatens, his use of her name shortened not going unnoticed. That tells me he knows her on a personal level, but the vice grip around my chest doesn’t allow me to analyze it any further.

  “Who the hell—” The connection ends as the sound of a fist pounding on the door across from me pulls my gaze away from the black screen.

  “Move motherfucker,” Tony yells as the door swings open, “before I make you move.”

  “Someone has Sienna,” I tell him, my frame wavering with nausea.

  “I know,” he admits. “How do you know?” His harsh tone demands an answer.

  “I have to throw the fight or he will kill her, and—”

  “You aren’t throwing the goddamn fight, Matteo.”

  I stare at him, stunned silent. He can’t be serious. This is his daughter’s life we’re talking about. How can he sound so callous? “You’d sell her down the river to ensure you don’t lose money?”

  I know he has a lot riding on my fight; him and a hell of a lot of other people, they always do. I’m not the underdog, nor have I ever been. I’m the sure thing, the winning ticket to a lot of cash. “This isn’t about money. You think I give a fuck if I lose half a million dollars?” he yells, his eyes widening with rage.

  “It sure as fuck sounds like it,” I spit back in his face, stepping forward and into his personal space. He may be okay with her life coming to an end tonight, but I’m not. My life started slowly falling into place a couple of months ago when she walked in Raymond’s with that don’t-fuck-with-me attitude rolling off her in waves that have threatened to drown me ever since.

  “It’s about you being a man and taking a stand and showing the whole world that no one backs you into a corner, that no one is going to force you to take a knee. You do not bow, Matteo.”

  “It’s a fight, Tony; a stupid fucking fight and one I’m going to throw tonight to save my woman—your daughter.”

  “My daughter doesn’t want a pussy for a man; one that’s scared and not thinking with his head. Besides, the second you throw that fight, my daughter, the woman you claim to love, is dead. Then it’s all for nothing.”

  “It’s not for nothing if there is a chance that it could save her, no matter the size.”

  “I’m telling you it won’t. We know where she is, or at least we hope we have her location. Dom and Ren are headed there now. You throw that fight and I’ll put a bullet in your head to save my daughter the disappointment of finding out you’re acting like a bitch right now.”

  “Goddammit, Tony. Who the fuck has her and why?”

  “Doesn’t matter. They forfeited their life the moment they grabbed her. If you believe one thing, De Salvo”—my name comes out of his mouth like a lethal weapon—“believe that I will burn the whole goddamn planet to the ground to find my daughter and whoever the fuck took her.”

  Another fist pounds on the door, this one more forceful than Tony’s.

  “Who the hell is that?” I bellow out, needing everything to stop so I can catch my breath. I need tonight to end with Sienna in my arms.

  “Krishna, if I had to guess.” There is strain in his voice and a snarl on his lip.

  “Why is Nikolayev here?” I saw enough of him earlier to last a lifetime.

  “He was instructed to bring Brooklyn here.”

  “Why?” My blood pressure skyrockets as the door pushes open and my eyes snap to find my daughter in the arms of a man I’ve come to dislike in recent months.

  “Daddy
,” she hollers. Krishna sets her on the floor, and I scoop her in my arms in the blink of an eye.

  “What’s going on?” I demand. “Iron girl, are you okay?” She’s supposed to be with my mom, and I know she’d never come to my fight. It’s not her thing. It wasn’t when my dad was a boxer, nor was it when I started fighting as a teenager.

  “I was scared, Daddy, but Domino found me.” She tightens her arms around my neck and I squeeze her back.

  “I delivered her,” Krishna says, his eyes on me even though he’s speaking to Tony. “I’m out.”

  “Go back up Domenico in case he needs it,” Tony commands, ignoring his comment.

  “You’re not the boss I take orders from.”

  “No, but I am, so do what you’re told.” A man that matches Krishna’s towering frame steps through the door dressed in a black, tailored suit, his white-gray hair and beard making him standout.

  A third gentleman enters behind him, who I assume is Mischa Nikolayev, Krishna and Sasha’s father. He looks to be about the same age as Tony and dressed similar too. There’s something about him that makes my head tilt as I scrutinize him from head to toe. It only takes two seconds to realize why. He could pass for my father’s twin brother if my dad had one.

  The revelation hits me. I’m staring at Giovanni De Salvo. That’s impossible. He’s behind bars, serving a life sentence for capital murder, yet I know that’s exactly who my eyes are connected with.

  Without argument, Krishna ducks out of the room, leaving the rest of us here.

  “Your mother is fine, Matteo,” Tony informs me as if questioning my earlier thought. “Other than that, I don’t have time to tell you anything else. Hand Brooklyn to me and get out there and handle your end of this.” There is a long beat of silence, all three men staring me down, and the way Tony said my name in that lethal tone of his that leaves no room for dispute. “Matteo?”