Page 18 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
She shakes her head slowly, but I can tell she likes it.
“Let go,” she whispers.
“Say that like you mean it.”
“It doesn’t matterhowI say it. Let go, Dario!”
Slowly, I relinquish my touch, my control.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re mad,” I say.
“You’re a douche.” Her cheeks have turned red, and her eyes are sparkling and full of excitement. “You want me to treat you like a regular guy, like you’re not my client’s son? There it is, Dario. You’re a D-O-U-C-H-E.”
“And you fucking love it.”
She rolls her eyes as she turns away.
“Make sure you shift those hips for me like you did earlier.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but she does it, and I know it’s on purpose because she looks over her shoulder again. She swishes her hips from side to side, hypnotizing me.
“Talk about mixed signals,” I call after her.
“It’s all in your head,” she replies.
“Keep telling yourself that, angel.”
Once she’s gone, I stuff my hands in my pockets and look down at the island before me. From up here, the people on the beach seem small, and the ocean seems endless.
The city, mafia business, my normal life–it all seems impossibly faraway.
CHAPTER 7
SIENA
The next morning, a party of around fifteen are walking toward the photo spot. I take up the rear with the photographer, Julian, who’s constantly checking his camera and fidgeting with his bag.
Up ahead, Dario walks with his mom and dad, his uncle, and his godfather close behind. Eddy and Rocco have similar names but different appearances and attitudes. Rocco is carefree, laughing, reminding me of Dario. Eddy is sour and looks at me like I’m doing something wrong by being here.
“I’m nervous,” Julian admits quietly.
“There’s no reason to be,” I reply, which is hypocritical because I haven’t stopped feeling nervous since we got here.
“This is a big, powerful family. I’m not used to directing people like this.”
“Just do what you usually do. They want the best photos, that’s all.”
“Hmm.”
He says nothing for a time, leaving my thoughts to stray to last night, to the near kiss, to the tension, to me calling Dario a douche and him telling me I wanted him and blah blah blah. I can’t afford to fixate on that, but I can’t seem to forget about it either.
Dario turns and throws me a secret look, making me feel… special. I pretend not to notice.
At the hill that leads to the highest point on the island, Julian paces a small circuit as the group breaks into smaller sub-groups and talks meanderingly. The small man’s nerves are clear as he runs his hand through his long, yellow hair.
“Everyone,” he says, way too quietly. “If I could get your attention, please…”
I raise my hand to my mouth, then drop it. My mother’s voice is ever present in my mind.You’ll have no fingernails left at this rate…
