Page 7 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

He said it so casually that to anyone else, it might have sounded like a joke.

Only to me, it sounded like the threat I knew it was.

He had me, and we both knew it. There was nothing I could do against my father, other than run. And clearly I’d proven we couldn’t do that well enough to stay off his radar.

He tapped the table twice as he stood. “I’ll expect you home in forty-eight hours, Luca. There’s going to be a wedding.”

“I can’t wait to meet my new mommy,” I said sarcastically.

My father just grinned. “Forty-eight hours, Luca.”

3

LYNX

Dear Diary,

Today in Saint View, I almost got arrested and almost got head from a hot Italian guy. So far, parole is going great.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you—”

I flipped the hockey puck up into my hand and scowled at Reaper. “Say that any louder and I’ll be forced to use this stick for more than practice.”

Levi leaned on the door of the clubhouse and studied me. “How’s that going anyway?”

I snorted. “I haven’t touched a puck in the ten years I was in prison. And to add insult to injury, I’m no longer twenty-five. So my reflexes are about as fast as a snail.” I grinned at him, but it probably came across more like a grimace. “So it’s going about as great as you would expect. I do not need the reminder I’m yet another year older. The ache in my knee has already taken care of that. No more ‘happy birthday’ shit.”

The flare-up was courtesy of an old injury, but I didn’t need to explain that to Reaper. After sharing a cell with me for six years, and now as one of my brothers in the Saint View Slayers MC, he knew me better than anyone.

His lips flattened into a disapproving line, nonetheless. “Get Doc to look at it before you start that bodyguard job with the Guerras tomorrow.” It was Reaper’s turn to grimace like he was in pain.

I laughed at him. “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying about me like I’m one of your kids. I don’t need protecting from the big bad mob boss. Not my first rodeo.”

My reassurances didn’t seem to have the desired effect on my old friend. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m still pissed at War for making you do this.”

I shook my head and leaned the hockey stick against the door. “Don’t be. The club owes the Guerras a favor. They called it in. Simple as that. I’m a prospect. War is the prez. I do as I’m told.”

Reaper breathed out heavily. “It feels like throwing you to the fucking wolves. I don’t like it.”

“Better me than one of the other prospects, don’t you think? Some of them would probably cry if they scraped their knee.”

The corner of Reaper’s mouth flickered into an almost smile, but it disappeared almost as quickly. “I get why War picked you to go. The rest of us have got families and kids. The other prospects are about as green as the damn grass. But I’ve heard things about the Guerras. Fucked-up things.”

I laughed at him. “Aw. Look at you. All worried for me. You’re adorable. Come here and let me scratch you behind the ears.”

Reaper rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m real fucking cute. I’m serious, Lynx. Don’t be a cocky bastard. The Guerras are messed up. You’re about to walk into a lion’s den.”

I patted him on the back. “I’m a lynx. We’ll tussle. It’ll be great.”

He sighed heavily in defeat. “Fine. I hope it really is as boring as War said it would be. I hope it’s endless hours of standing around, doing absolutely nothing.”

I pouted at his negativity. “So what you’re saying is you want to kill me with boredom. Geez, Reap. I thought we were friends. Let me have at least a little action. Maybe a turf war? Perhaps a tiny gun battle?”

“How about a street fight?”

I perked up at the idea of some violence. “Really? Like right now? Seriously?” Adrenaline coursed through my veins. “Is this my birthday present?”

“Figured you’d prefer that over the knitted sweater Violet suggested I get for you.”