Page 37 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

“You’re the man War sent over?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How would War feel if you touched his woman the way you just touched mine?”

Lynx opened his mouth and then closed it.

Smart. He was learning.

“That’s the one and only time I’ll tell you not to touch what isn’t yours, bodyguard. Do we have an understanding? You protect her. You don’t touch her. Capiche?”

Lynx nodded. “Capiche.”

My father’s gaze finally turned to me. “And you. As you’ve probably noticed, your uncle is back in town.”

“I noticed,” I said stiffly, not turning in Enzo’s direction.

“He’s been filling in for you while you were away.”

“Good of him.”

My father glared at me, like even that simple sentence was too much talking out of line for him. “We have a lot of new businesses we’ve acquired in your absence. Enzo has been handling things.”

I couldn’t seem to take my own advice and just zip my mouth. “Great. Seems like you don’t need me here then. I’m always happy to leave.”

I regretted it instantly.

My father’s rage flared behind his eyes. “You’ll take on some of the businesses Enzo has brought to our table.” He glanced at his younger brother who stepped forward as if he’d been summoned with just that one look.

“You’ll take Luigi’s in James Town. And the string of laundromats along the coast.”

I was familiar with both and forced myself to knock it off with the insolence. “Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll take the Saint View Vipers,” he added.

I raised an eyebrow. “The what?”

My father sat forward, picking up his pen again. “They’re the local hockey team.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry. I thought you said hockey team.”

“Don’t be cute, Luca. It doesn’t suit you.”

I let it go, because I still didn’t understand what on earth he was talking about. “You bought a hockey team? What the hell for?” We owned restaurants. Sex clubs. Brothels. Laundromats. Businesses that were easy enough to launder money through.

Never a sports team.

Other than boxing, what the hell did any of us know about sports?

My father scrawled something across the pad of paper. “For reasons that will make themselves clear when I deem it fit.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Audit the books and the team. Fire anyone not performing. I expect it to be profitable by the end of the season.”

I gaped at him. “How the hell am I supposed to do that? I’ve never watched a game of hockey in my life.”

My father shrugged and flicked his hand, dismissing me. “You’re not just a pretty face, my son. Work it out.”

11

LYNX