Page 18 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

She lifted one shoulder. “I’m not sure, sir. Perhaps he loves her?”

I snorted. “Yeah, okay, and I’m Santa Claus. That truck I parked out there is actually a sleigh, and I’m gonna magic up some red-nosed reindeers to smoke a pipe with.” I winced again at the sharp tone I used and hugged Virginia to me. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a jackass. I swear, I’ve actually been a nice person for the last twelve months. But there’s just something about this house that makes me want to murder people.”

Or myself.

I might have considered that if I could have been sure my old man would keep his word and leave Isabella out of all of this. But I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.

But there were people I trusted less. The Matishes being at the top of that list. The old man had lost his ever-loving mind.

“Do you have bags to be brought in?” Virginia asked. “Can I help?”

The woman was too good to be working in a hellhole like this one. She was probably at least seventy, and I knew she had a hip that ached when there was dampness in the air. I was absolutely not going to have her carrying in my things.

“No,” I told her. “I didn’t bring much with me.”

That was the truth. Other than the clothes on my back and a phone to keep in contact with Isabella, I hadn’t brought much at all. I no longer had use for the high-visibility work shirts and khaki shorts that had become my uniform for the last year. The dusty work boots were all I had left of the life I’d just walked away from.

When I took them off tonight, it would be for the last time.

Luca Simpson, the fake name I’d used for the last year, was a laborer who worked an honest job, in the dirt, with his hands.

Luca Guerra wouldn’t be seen dead in anything cheaper than a thousand-dollar suit. He was the mob boss’s son. Cold. Ruthless. Didn’t care about anyone but himself.

“Do you want food?” Virginia asked. “I saved something…”

But I shook my head wearily. “No thank you. I just want to go to bed.” I tried to stretch out the crick in my neck that had been there all day. “I didn’t sleep well last night so I’m exhausted.”

She nodded. “Of course. I prepared your old bedroom with towels and a new toothbrush for you as soon as your father told me you were coming home.” Happiness sparkled in her eyes.

Virginia was the closest thing I’d had to a mother for as long as I could remember. And I hadn’t even said goodbye to her when I’d left with Isabella. It was only now I realized how much that must have hurt her.

I hugged the small, soft woman then trudged my way up the stairs. Nothing had changed since I’d left. The same paintings hung on the wall. The same thick carpet beneath my feet. With every step, my life with Isabella faded. I could practically feel one skin shedding and a new one replacing it. Or rather, an old one, that unfortunately fit all too well.

I turned down the bedroom hallway and gave a distracted nod to the man standing outside one of the guest rooms. And then did a double take as I recognized him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Lynx blinked sleepily at first, but then recognition dawned in his eyes. And suddenly they were wide as saucers. “I…” He glanced back at the door behind him. “I work here. I’m the new bodyguard for the future Mrs. Guerra.”

“Since when? Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

Lynx narrowed his eyes at the demanding, arrogant tone that seemed to instantly come back to me when I was beneath this roof.

“Since today, actually,” he said. “And why would I have told you last night? Why are you here?”

“I live here!”

He blinked again, this time in surprise. “You…live here?”

The attraction from last night slipped between us once more. Gaze connecting. Heat flaring. He was all broad shoulders and tattoos. A thug for sure, not the sort of guy you took home to your mama. But I had no interest in dating.

I’d been down on my knees for this man less than twenty-four hours ago.

And we’d been rudely interrupted.

I pointed down the hallway. “That’s my bedroom right there.” It was a response to his question about me living here, but I didn’t miss the heat that curled around the words, like it was an invitation for him to join me.

But his expression hardened. “That’s your bedroom? Right there?”

I nodded.