Page 73 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“Dario?” Nico approaches, with Rocco at his side.
“Take Siena somewhere safe.”
She snatches her arm away. “I need to talk to the resort manager. I can’t?—”
“Wherever she goes, you go. Understand?” I growl.
“You got it,” Nico says.
Siena marches off toward the edge of the party. Nico and Rocco hurry after her, Rocco even taller than me and one of thetoughest men I’ve ever known. She’ll be safe with them while I figure out what’s going on.
I walk through the party, searching for my mother and father. Antonio catches up with me. “I’m here, Dario.”
“Find my mother. I’ll get my old man.” Without a word, he turns and walks the other way.
I don’t hear any sounds of violence, no gunshots, no screaming like someone is being stabbed or attacked. Just mumbling and confusion. Then my father’s voice cuts above everyone else’s.
“So this is it, huh?” he yells. Strangely, his voice slurs. I’ve never known my father to let himself get this drunk. I follow his voice and find him standing at the edge of the pool, waving his hands. “This is how you treat your fuckingking?”
“Father,” I say quietly, walking up beside him. “You need to stop.”
“I’ll make you all sorry,” he rants. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Vittorio Tommaso Bianchi, and you will respect me or I’ll make you respect me. I’ll send my son, my capos, and my soldiers, and we’ll tear you all to pieces.”
“Father, these are your fucking soldiers,” I growl, grabbing his arm and turning him away from the party. “You need to stop.”
He snatches his arm away. “Don’t touch me. You hear that?” He yells at the party.“Don’t touch me!”
I grab him again, pull him close, and hiss in his ear. “If you force me to carry you out of here, that will look bad, but I can’t let you rant like this. You look weak.”
He looks at me with glassy eyes, seeming to sober up… a little. “Weak?”
“Weak,” I snap. “You can’t let them see you like this, goddammit.”
“Weak,” he says, like a toddler who’s struggling to understand a word.
“You need to come with?—”
The lights snap back on. Everyone stands around in a tense circle, the men looking ready for violence. The women looking ready to run. Many of the mafia men have disgusted expressions on their faces… a Don isn’t supposed to lose his cool like this.
Through the crowd, I spot Siena staring, looking gorgeous in her form-hugging dress, her hair messy and angelic as it flows down her shoulders… and her face ashen. She heard my father’s ranting.
I can’t think about that. She’s got Rocco and Nico keeping watch. She’ll be safe. For now, that will have to be enough.
“I think I need to lie down,” my father whispers.
“Good idea.”
We both walk away from the lights, through the palm trees. He stumbles against me. “I’m sorry, son.”
He sounds vulnerable, something I’ve rarely, if ever, known him to be.
“Don’t sweat it. You need to lie down, that’s all.”
I’m relieved to find that Antonio has already escorted my mother back to her room. As we approach the pier, Father tries to snatchhis hand away, but I keep hold of him, not wanting him to fall into the water. Mother rushes down the pier and takes his other side.
“What’s he doing here?” I growl when I see my uncle sitting on my father’s bed.
Eddy springs to his feet, waving a hand at me. “Was this your fucking grand plan?” he snaps. “To humiliate your father? To make him look weak so that–what, Dario? So that you can use the narrative to instill doubt in the men? So you can become Don?”
