Page 91 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

There’d be more after, I was sure of it.

But taking out Carlos wasn’t actually an option. All I could see was the look on War’s face when I’d asked him if I could do it, and his reminder that Carlos wasn’t just one man.

He was all of the men here tonight. And if I took him out, there’d be another who’d step right into his place.

Probably that Enzo guy, who hovered around Carlos’s back, a scotch glass in one hand, chunky rings catching the glint from the overhead fairy lights.

I tried to lighten the mood, because this was all too dark and depressing and was giving me that helpless feeling I’d sometimes gotten in prison, where everything was out of my control, and my entire existence came down to the whims of other people. I grabbed the flask and took another swig. “Okay, so Mafia Barbie isn’t your thing. You’re not a tit man like your father apparently is. Can’t blame you, because even hearing you talk about him like that has turned me off tits for the rest of my life.” I glanced at him. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

The corner of his mouth flickered with amusement. “You saying you liked tits in the first place? You seemed more interested in my cock than in anyone’s boobs that night at the fights.”

“Why choose?” I asked with a grin. “Can’t a guy like both?”

His gaze trailed back to Nyah. “Yeah. I guess he can.”

“You ever think about fucking her just to stick it to your old man? Even if he never knows, you would.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why are you so obsessed with how I feel about Nyah? I’m not interested in my father’s virgin princess.”

Except I could see in the way he kept looking back at her that he was. That Nyah in that damn dress was doing as much for him as it was for me.

I grinned. “Liar. You fucking want her bad.”

The distrust in Luca’s eyes disappeared, and he laughed. “Fine. The thought of her bouncing on my cock, those little tits in my face, and all that long dark hair wrapped up in my fingers has crossed my mind.”

“So do it,” I encouraged. “I’ve seen the way the two of you verbally spar. She wants you. I’m sure of it.”

He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “What if she’s not who I want tonight?”

The way he asked the question froze me to the spot. Because there was something in his voice that hadn’t been there when we’d been talking about his father and Marissa and the life he’d been born into.

It was something that sent heat licking up my spine. And maybe it was the couple of swallows of hard liquor after not drinking since I was barely more than a teenager that had me saying, “Who do you want, Luca?”

He said nothing. Just slipped around the side of the pool house, away from the prying eyes of the party.

And for the longest moment, I closed my eyes, breathing deep, willing myself not to follow.

This had not been the plan. This was not baiting him to get pissed off with his dad and to want to fuck his fiancée just to get back at him. It wasn’t reminding him how beautiful Nyah was, or of the crackling tension between them that anyone with eyes could see every time they were in the room together.

But fuck me, I followed.

He stood there in the moonlight, his eyes and hair dark, his chest rising and falling too rapidly.

He was beautiful. Not in the way Nyah was with her feminine curves and smaller stature.

Luca was beautiful in a way that reminded me of stone. All hard, chiseled lines, from his shoulders to his jaw, to the steel that glinted in his eyes, never relaxing, never disappearing, even now, when they were muddied by desire.

I stopped in front of him, breathing just as hard. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“No,” he agreed, heat burning in his eyes. “We shouldn’t.”

Neither of us moved.

Fuck, I wanted to kiss him. His gaze dipped to my lips, like he was thinking exactly the same thing.

I groaned, giving in. “Get on your knees for me, Luca.”

His lips quirked into a challenging smile. “Did you forget I’m your boss, bodyguard?”