Page 76 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“Rocco,” the big one grunts.
The other, leaner, with a slightly kinder face, says, “Nico.”
“One of you needs to stay with Rosy. She’s the resort manager, and we need to make sure nothing happens to her.”
“We can’t leave you,” Rocco rumbles out.
“Dario gave us orders,” Nico explains.
So, Dario gives orders. He’s not just a grunt. Of course not–I heard Vittorio. If he’s the king, that makes Dario the prince. The prince of the mafia. I feel like I’ve fallen into a surreal dream.
“I don’t care what he ordered you. One of you is enough, surely? She needs you more than I do.”
“We can’t?—”
I interrupt when I see Dario approaching. “Dario!”
He strides toward me, no typical smirk on his face, everyone moving aside to give him a wide berth.
“Please tell one of them to guard Rosy, the resort manager.”
“Why?” he asks.
“Can you just, justplease.”
He turns to the bigger one. “Rocco, stay with her. Nico, follow us, but keep a distance.”
“Follow us?” I snap. “Where are we going?”
The two men have already snapped into action to follow Dario’s commands.
“What did you hear?” he asks, reaching out.
I slide away, out of his grasp. “I heard enough,” I huff.
We walk away from the party–not that it’s much of a party anymore–and end up in the semidarkness of a palm tree’s shadow.
“I wanted to tell you,” he says. “But I was afraid…”
“To tell me you’re a mobster who threatens people, kills people, hurts people?”
“Those phone calls aren’t what you think.”
“They weren’t mafia business?”
“A rival mafia is trying to push hard drugs. I’m stopping them. Language like that, even actions that might make polite society cringe, are all they understand. The world isn’t normally glistening horizons and warm sand, Siena. It’s rough and tough an?—”
“Save your speech,” I cut in. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It matters,” he insists.
“No–it doesn’t. I told you this wasn’t going anywhere. Now I’ve got a reason to stick to that.”
He catches my hips. Somehow, it still feels so good. Tingles course over my back, down between my legs. My core miraculously aches despite everything.
“You keep saying that. I haven’t believed it once.”
“You’ve had as much of a fling as you’re going to get.”
