Page 89 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

I’d talked to War. Confided in him that she was here, being forced into a marriage she didn’t want. Asked him what we could do.

Though he hadn’t liked it, his answer had been simple. “We’d be starting a war with the Guerras. And not just them, with Nyah’s family too.”

And I’d suddenly understood that what I’d asked of him was bigger than I’d realized. War had kids. A woman. A family to protect. And not only that, he had a responsibility to the club and its members. Most of them—Hawk, Fang, Reaper—they all had kids and partners of their own now too. War’s job was to protect them.

He might have been sympathetic to Nyah’s plight, but he didn’t know her. And his job as prez, as a partner and father, was to protect his own, no matter what.

He was the sort of father Nyah should have had. And yet she’d gotten lumped with a Mafia king who wanted power and alliance more than his own daughter’s happiness and safety.

He wanted it so much he’d been willing to threaten those she loved to get her to comply.

War would never. And I couldn’t fault him for that.

But it meant that Nyah had no one watching out for her. No one but me. And so now, shoot me in the head, it was apparently my job to get Luca to sleep with her.

I needed a fucking drink.

But of course, since I was working, I couldn’t have one.

“I’ve never seen anyone frown so much at a party.” Luca leaned against the pool house wall beside me, shadows covering us both thanks to the huge tree that grew to one side. “You’re supposed to be having a good time, you know.”

“I’m here to work. Not here to party.”

Luca glanced over at his father and Nyah. “Looks like you’re essentially off the clock tonight. Clearly Daddy Dearest wants his future bride all to himself.”

I pressed my lips together. He wasn’t wrong. I’d done nothing but stand here ever since Nyah had walked downstairs. Carlos had monopolized her every moment, and I was just standing here like part of the furniture.

Furniture that was obsessed with every curve of her body and who had to keep thinking about llamas regurgitating their feed just to stop from getting hard.

She had a fiancé. She had a baby daddy. And she needed to sleep with her future stepson.

She did not need a bodyguard with a crush.

She needed someone to fucking help her before the entire thing blew up in her face and someone got hurt.

I couldn’t be with her twenty-four seven. And my worst nightmare, one I hadn’t even considered until I’d woken up in a cold sweat after dreaming about it, was me turning up here one day, and she was just gone.

I knew the Guerras trafficked women.

And I was so fucking scared that if she put a foot wrong, she’d be the first on the auction block, the baby with her.

The plan was good. We just needed to make it happen.

Luca pulled a flask from the inside pocket of his suit. “Have a drink, Lynx. You seem stressed.”

I took it, because I was. Nyah was safe while she was in the middle of this party, surrounded by people. I was of better use to her by buttering Luca up.

“Nyah looks hot tonight,” I said quietly, passing the flask back to him after taking a gulping swig.

He glanced at me. “Checking out my father’s fiancée is probably not a smart move, you know.”

I snorted on my derision. “Are you saying you didn’t notice?”

Luca’s gaze fixed on the bright red of her dress. “Of course I noticed. I’m not blind.”

“So you agree. She looks good.”

“She looks like signing my name on my own death warrant if I even so much as sniff in her direction.”