Page 1 of Mafia Heiress
Chapter One
“Would you shut the fuck up already?” I scream down the stairs. My two brother are at it again. Arguing about whose tits are the biggest, Kim or Kylie.
“Mind ya business, principessa. No one asked you,” Calogero yells, giving me the finger as he walks by the stairwell. Little prick.
“I swear, I can’t wait till I’m fucking married. At least then I’ll have peace and quiet,” I say into my phone. Ana Grace, my best friend and soul sister since we were three, is the only one I trust with my secrets. Even after twenty-five years, we know everything about each other.
“Are you ready for the party tonight? I can’t believe your father is doing this, and on top of that, I can’t believe you’re fucking doing this! It’s like something out of one of the books you read,” she squeals.
Ana’s been married since she turned twenty-one. Had no choice. Luigi Compagna decided to give her a one-eyed snake as her birthday present and forgot to wrap it beforehand. Luigi Jr. was born right before she turned twenty-two.
“It’s a marriage, Ana. A business arrangement. My father gets a son-in-law to control, and I get the fuck out of this house and on with my real life. I’ll probably have to have a kid at some point, but no one said I had to right away. I can get the implant. They won’t fucking know.”
“You’re horrible. But I’m really excited for you. Tonight is going to be epic. My cousin Sabina’s daughter is coming over to watch Little Lou, and I’ll meet you at the house around six to get ready. Luigi is going to meet me there with the guys.”
“Thank God. I’m going to need you to help finalize the dress. I can’t decide between red or gold.”
“Let’s see how your hair comes out. Text you when I’m on the way. And, Jack, don’t be such a bitch tonight, yeah?”
“Fuck you, Ana.”
“Love you more.”
I hang up the phone and toss it on the bed. I have a folder of dossiers to go through before tonight. When my father decided that I’m too old to not have a husband and gave me his reasons why, I came up with the perfect plan. One he couldn’t refuse.
My compromise, a competition. Why not make it fun and have them fight for me? It’s not like this is going to be real or anything. Marrying for love these days is stupid. Having a business arrangement where both parties benefit is pretty smart if you ask me.
A good-looking dummy who will look great in pictures, give me beautiful babies, and who will have no choice but to do as I say. Someone fit for a princess.
My father hand-selected five different men. Two of them are from Italy, two from New York, and another from Vegas. I don’t have high hopes for the Vegas guy.
I open the top file and scan it over quickly. Dante Imperezza. Thirty-five, structural engineer. Works for one of my father’s development companies. On the job for five years. Degree. Owns his own home, and has a boat. Makes good money. Perfect, he won’t fight the prenup.
His angular jaw and smoldering eyes make him look mysterious. He’s lean but muscular, and if this picture isn’t photoshopped, he likes tight pants to show off his assets.
“You go in the possible pile.”
The second folder is for Ignazio Cona. He’s from Italy. Doesn’t speak English, no assets, but his family is wealthy and connected. He’s good looking, but the language barrier is a problem. I speak Italian, but this is America, and I’m not looking to become an interpreter for the rest of my life.
“To the no pile for you.”
“Giacomina!” My mother’s voice echoes off the marble walls. Rolling my eyes, I jump off my bed and head to the door, pulling it open just enough for my head to fit through.
“What?” I shout back.
“Nikki is here to do your hair. We only have four hours before the party. Come downstairs.”
I shut the door and take off my t-shirt. I slip on a robe and stick my feet in a pair of slippers. Grabbing my phone and the rest of the folders off the bed, I make my way down into the sitting room. The hairstylist and her team are already starting to set up.
“Hey, Jack,” Nikki says. She comes over and gives me a kiss on the cheek before pulling back and plugging in her curling iron.
“You look good,” I say, admiring her outfit. Black leggings with a gorgeous maroon colored sweater. Booties with metal chains complete her outfit. Her ice blond hair is blown out in soft waves and her makeup is to die for.
“Thanks. I figured your brothers would be home.”
I slap her arm and take a seat in the chair. “You’re too good for those little fuckers. Neither of them has a smart bone in their body.”
“Yeah, but they sure are pretty,” she says, with a smirk.
