Page 6 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

My father smiled at Mrs. Wilson. “Do forgive me for dropping in unannounced. I know it’s terribly rude, and at dinner time too.”

Mrs. Wilson waved her hand dismissively. “Shush. I always make too much anyway. There’s plenty to eat. You’ll stay, won’t you?”

“No,” I said sharply.

Mrs. Wilson glanced at me in surprise and then with a frown of disapproval that made me feel about two inches tall.

But her disappointment in my lack of manners was the least of my concern when there was a serpent sitting at her table.

I cleared my throat. “Our father is a very busy man. I’m sure he has places he needs to be.”

He put his glass down and nodded. “I’m sorry, but Luca is right. I am quite short on time. I only came to invite my children to a wedding.”

Mrs. Winters clapped her hands. “Oh, how lovely! A chance for all the family to be together.”

But Izzy shoved back from the table so abruptly the feet on her chair scraped along the tiled floor with an ear-piercing screech.

She ran from the room and up the stairs without a word.

Mrs. Wilson frowned at her, but unlike my father’s scowls of disapproval, Mrs. Wilson’s was only filled with concern. She put the tea jug down on the counter and wiped her hands on a towel. “Perhaps she’s not feeling well. I’ll go check on her, shall I?”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Wilson darted a worried look between me and my father, finally picking up on the tension I’d felt like a blinking neon sign since the moment I’d walked back in the door. I waited until she disappeared up the stairs, and the soft snick of Izzy’s bedroom door closing, before I faced my father.

“So, you’re getting married again, huh? What is this? Wife number four? Five? Forgive me for losing count, there’s been so many. What happened to the last one? Dead or just disappeared?”

My father sat back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Dead.”

I nodded. “What she do?”

“Plotted to have me killed so she could take over my empire.”

I snorted on my amusement. “Ballsy of her.”

“Indeed.” He crossed his arms over his chest and studied me. “You look…”

“Well?” I supplied for him. “Happy? Honest? Well adjusted? Take your pick.”

My father just stared me up and down, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Dirty.”

I sat in the seat Izzy had vacated and leaned in, resting my elbows on the tabletop. “Funny, despite your pristine suit, I could say the same about you.”

If the insult registered, my father didn’t show it. “I need you back with me.”

My response was instant and automatic. “No.”

Dad let out a long-suffering sigh. “Luca, we can go through the whole thing, where I threaten your sister and that sweet old lady, or you can just do as I ask and come home. This charade has gone on long enough, don’t you think? I gave you twelve months. That was more than generous of me.”

I tightened my fingers around the tabletop so hard I was surprised I didn’t get splinters. “Generous of you? Generous of you would have been letting Isabella choose a husband of her own one day when she was actually old enough to do so. Generous would have been you leaving me the hell alone to run my businesses without you adding a slice of money laundering or human trafficking on the side.”

He sighed. “So we’re doing this the dramatic way, are we?” He leaned in, narrowing his eyes, so there were only inches between us. “Come home, and I’ll tell Lorenzo Isabella is dead. He’ll call off his search for her, and she can live here in this dinky town for the rest of her life if she wants to. I won’t say a word about it. I’ll even pay for it.” He wrinkled his nose at the handmade curtains on the kitchen windows. “Can’t imagine that would cost much.”

Forever a snob.

“And if I refuse?”

He rolled his dark eyes. “I stop paying Lorenzo’s guy to not find you. Lorenzo comes to get his wife. We torch this house with its owner locked inside. And you come home anyway.”