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Claiming the Mafia Queen

Page 12

by Fiona Stone

Because wouldn’t they be scared to cross me?

Not sure it would matter, though. They don’t fear anything. I’ve raised them that way.

I sigh, as much as a pain in the ass as they are, they were also getting close to leaving.

Just a couple more years for them.

If I was being honest, I was the loneliest I’d ever been, knowing my kids were soon out of the nest.

“Hey mom,” he says through the receiver.

“Hey, Baby…” I coo. “How are you settling into your new apartment?” He’d just moved out of the dorms and into his own place. I was proud of him.

“It’s going well,” he chuckles. “I don’t have any condiments in the fridge.”

I snicker. “Want me to send someone out to get you some things?”

“No,” he groans. “I told you, Mom, I want to do it myself.”

I nod. One of the hardest things about raising independent children is the fact that they need you a little less everyday. Kind of makes you think twice.

Exchanging a pleasantry or two, and talking about his classes was probably the highlight of my night. And that in and of itself was enough to make me feel more than just a little pathetic.

Sure, it’s normal to miss your kids. But since when has my entire existence been based around them?

“Mom!” Guilia shrieks. I cringe almost immediately, holding my mug tightly in the palm of my hand.

Even queens need a minute to wake up. “My soccer shirt!” She screams. I roll my eyes and fall to the side, careful not to spill my coffee. “You didn’t wash it!” I can hear her voice getting closer and I lay against the couch seat and groan. “Mom!” She calls again.

“I forgot…” I sigh. Truth is, we live in the penthouse of my hotel and club. We have the same maid staff that the rest of the hotel has. I didn’t do any of the laundry and rarely did the cleaning. That’s not really my thing anymore.

I don’t have the time.

“You always forget!” She whines.

I sit up and narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t whine…” I warn.

She takes a deep breath. Her long brown hair cascades beautifully over her shoulders as she combs her fingers through it and pulls roughly. A strangled groan bursts from her lips.

“Guilia!” I firmly snap. “Just leave it and I’ll have Miranda do it!”

“Why can’t you just be a normal mom!”

“Oh,” I pipe, sitting up fully and setting my coffee mug down. “I’m sorry I own hotels and bars and am a full-fledged business woman that provides you with the money toplay soccerand anything else you want!”

“That’s not all you do…” she mutters under her breath and stomps away.

I lean back and growl. Why are teenagers so annoying?! And what the hell did she mean by that?

“What’s that?” I call after her.

“You’re also the one that royally pisses me off!”

“Language!” I bellow, although I was the pot calling the kettle black. “You have ten minutes! You too, Emma!”

“She’s already gone!” Guilia calls in a snarky voice. “You’d know that if you listened to her last night at dinner!”

It’s crazy, really.