Page 17 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

“I don’t want Goon One and Two knowing I’ve moved into Mr. Guerra’s bedroom. I’d like to just surprise him when he gets home. Would you mind just standing outside the room I was supposed to have until your shift finishes? So that when they take over from you, they think I’m in there?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m going to get fired on my first day for letting you do this, aren’t I?”

I laughed off his concerns, though he was right to have them. “I’m the lady of the house. About to be Mr. Guerra’s wife. I’ll just tell them I commanded it. I outrank them.”

I wasn’t actually sure that was true. Women in my family had no power other than to bear children and be married off as bargaining chips in empire wars.

I doubted it would be any different here.

But Lynx bought it, and he was already moving down the hallway to stand back in front of his Tuscan landscape with all the grapes.

Poor bastard. I’d have to try to find a book or something for him to read tomorrow.

But tonight, I had other plans. I closed the door, unpacked all my belongings as quickly as I could. The sun set outside the big windows, the blue sky turning into the inky darkness of night.

And when finally, the headlights of cars lit up the driveway, telling me my future husband was home, I took off all my clothes and slipped into his bed, waiting for him to join me.

5

LUCA

Dear Diary,

Today I ran into the guy I almost hooked up with… Turns out he works for my future stepmother. Because of course he does.

At forty-seven hours and fifty-nine minutes since my father made his demand, I pulled my truck into his driveway. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of returning any earlier than that, even though I’d stayed in Saint View last night, a mere five-minute drive away from his mansion in Providence. I’d slept in my truck, too broke for a hotel, and no friends with couches I could crash on. But stuffing my long legs into the back seat and getting cramps in my calves and shoulders was preferable to coming back here and sleeping between one-thousand-thread-count sheets.

I stopped the truck in the middle of the driveway, hoping it would spring a leak and drip oil all over the perfectly cleaned pavers.

Petty, sure. But that’s where I was at. Complete and utter resentment for the fact I was here filled me so thick and heavy it felt like I could barely pick up my feet.

But I did. I dragged them to the front door, which opened as if automatic.

Virginia, the housekeeper who had worked for my family for as long as I could remember, beamed up at me, tears shining in her warm golden-brown eyes. “You’re home, Mr. Guerra.”

I smiled down at her, which was probably the only genuine smile I’d get to give beneath this roof. I bent and kissed her cheek. “You wiped my snotty nose when I was a kid, Virginia. You held my hand when we crossed the street. You do not have to call me Mr. Guerra.”

She took my hand and squeezed it affectionately. “You’re not that little boy anymore.”

Didn’t I know it. The weight of my responsibilities crushed down. How long until my father put me back to work, helping him run the various businesses that made up his kingdom? How long before I was back to barking out orders, making demands, doing shit that made my heart sink because he demanded it?

And I would do it all.

Because Isabella’s happiness and my father’s promise to keep her husband away from her was all that mattered. I’d failed her once. I wouldn’t do it again.

“Where’s my father?”

Virginia shook her head. “He sends his apologies. He’s been caught up on business and couldn’t be here to greet you or Miss Matish on your arrivals.”

“Who?”

“Nyah Matish? Your father’s fiancée?”

My mouth dropped open. “He’s marrying a Matish? He hates the Matishes? Is he insane?”

Virginia twisted her fingers nervously at my inadvertent shouting, and I instantly felt bad.

I lowered my voice. “Why would he marry her?”