Page 3 of Daddy's Little Mafia Princess
My gut goes cold, icy anger drilling up my spine into the back of my head. I’m not my father, but I am my father’s son, and this man has no idea how much I want to kill him right now.
Reaching into my jacket, I pull out the contingency cash I’d brought had a down payment been required and place all five rolls of bills in front of his plate. Ten thousand per roll. Fifty thousand total.
“A drop in the bucket,” I say, swallowing back the anger seductively whispering in my ear to jump the table and wrap my arm around Alviero’s neck. I stare at him and don’t move.
Alviero stares at the money. Finally, he shrugs his shoulders and wipes his mouth. “Yeah, all right. No one touches her but you.”
The deal was struck. My down payment was already in his pocket, and she was mine—for better or worse. ‘Til death do us part. And with her, I had my restaurant.
Turning, I walk from the room to await the contract he promised.
I’m good at what I do. I can plan like a boss. When everyone else is thinking three steps ahead, I’m thinking ten or twenty, but sayings are sayings for a reason, I guess, and one old saying in particular rises up to bite my ass the minute I walk out of the Crown—Men plan, God laughs.
Alviero has been a king for so long, he’s forgotten how minor he really is, but whatever else he’s been in his life, God isn’t among them.
At three p.m. that afternoon, I receive word Alviero held a second meeting. One he tried to keep hidden from me, this time with Morales and his two sons. He made another deal.
He took my money and made another deal.
Miguel, Morales’ youngest, will take Clara for his wife and her nine percent investment in the casino. They had no interest in a restaurant and didn’t offer half as much money as I had. What they gave Alviero instead was control, and what they got in return was the pleasure of snatching the deal out from under me like a well-worn rug.
It was vindictive, petty, and it pisses me off.
“What are you going to do?” Mikhail, my second in command, asks, waiting by my desk for instructions.
Angry as I am, it takes several long minutes before I can think beyond the obvious. I’ve just been robbed, cheated, and nobody does that to me—especially not a little king with a God complex.
“They’re drafting a special license as we speak,” Mikhail says. “The wedding will be held between Miguel and Miss Pisani at ten tomorrow morning. They’re having a party tonight at eight to celebrate.”
I nodded. “That doesn’t give us a lot of time to plan.”
“What do you want?” Mikhail says, thinking through the problem as he always did, talking it out through his mouth. The man was a great advisor—all ears in public, all mouth in private. “You don’t need the girl. She’s not important to anyone but Alviero.”
But she’d been promised to me, then stolen back without my consent. Nobody does that to me.
Nobody.
“I’m taking her back.”
He nods and changes mental tracks. He’s smart. Whatever I need, he’ll get it done. I have total faith in him, or at least as much faith as I have for anyone other than myself.
“Good luck getting your money back,” he adds.
Yes, I’m thinking the same thing.
“Want me to send a message?”
“No. Not to him.” Eyes narrowing, I silently plot my way through the labyrinthine of causes-and-effects that might follow my next course of action. “Contact a florist. I want to send Miss Pisani flowers—happy engagement flowers. If their party is at eight, have it delivered directly to her by eight-thirty.”
I nod, setting my course. If Alviero thinks he can take my money and make another deal, he has another think coming. I don’t need his casino. I could go anywhere to get my restaurant. I don’t even need his daughter, but it’s a point of pride now. She’d been promised, my restaurant had been promised, andmoney exchanged hands. Nobody steals from me and walks away. Alviero is about to learn even a king—especially a minor one—could be toppled by anyone at any time.
A change in sovereignty is coming to Vegas.
All hail the new king.
Chapter 2
Clara
