Page 3 of The Boss
I chuckle again as he prowls toward me on his knees across the bed. Unease still runs through me, which I know will vanish once those large, firm hands are on my body again. So I send a quick prayer up in my mind for Luna’s protection and comfort. I hate that my closest friend in the world is miles away, angry and confused. Maybe even scared. All the families are going to be turned upside down one by one, including hers.
I just hope we can get her out of harm’s way before O’s promised chaos and destruction reach her Papa’s doorstep.
CHAPTER 3
Luna
Beep Beep Beep
Huh? The front door just opened downstairs? The security system chimes again as it closes, further waking me. I turn and look at my watch on the charger.
Interesting.
It’s early as hell and this visitor is off the books. Since I checked Papa’s schedule I know the meetings he has today, a few different capos whose delivery teams are consistently behind schedule, even with the modifications I secretly make to our schedules and routes.
I don’t envy them thewarningorremindersthey’ll receive today. My guess today is that each one will lose a hand. Gross, but effective.
All of that doesn’t start until 11.
So, who is here at 8?
I look out my window but only see the usual blacked out SUVs that anyone and everyone drives. Quietly, I get dressed in a black sweat suit and fuzzy slippers. I brush my teeth but leave my smudgy face and crazy bedhead alone. Should I run into anyone while sleuthing, it’ll look like I just rolled out of bed a little early in search of coffee.
I peek my head out of my door to check for any staff. At this time of morning they’re probably all still in the kitchen. They’d be the first to make a fuss about me being up and about this early, which is attention I don’t need. Not only because I’m trying to get my spy on, but also because it is early for me and I truly do need some coffee. But coffee will have to wait.
I walk at a deliberately slow pace to the back stairs.
Papa’s office is the heart of our giant home, by design, which made eavesdropping difficult at first. Now, I easily make my way down the small carpeted staircase to the hallway that cuts through the house, pleased to see it’s empty. I fake a yawn and amble absently to my studio. A studio I begged for in my teens, when my plans to take over the family business started to solidify. The room was a musty old sitting room before, but it has great windows and a view of the pool, so I insisted it was the right room for my music.
Almost twenty years I’ve played the cello every day. Until my fingers bled. Until the entire bottom half of my body went numb on the stool.
I pad into the bright room and fight a smile. It’s hip and girly and happy in here. There are neon signs, leopard print and bright boho colors. Plants, mood lighting. A piano, multiple cellos that must all be worth over a million dollars. It’s a Pinterest-perfect version of a female musician’s paradise.
I don’t give two fucks about the cello.
But I do have a very comfortable pink gamer chair that I use for “composing” while wearing my “noise-cancelling headphones.” When I lean back in said chair, my head is just inches away from the vent that shares a ventilation shaft with my father’s office. To keep my hands busy, I pick up my electric violin and start noodling. Since it’s not plugged into the amp, I barely hear it.
“Terms!” Papa huffs, clearly angry. “Thatstronzohas the audacity to demand terms from us?”
“You knew this would be a mess,Padrone.”
Padrone. So the visitor is Bosco. He’s the only one who calls PapaFather.Suck up. He’s already the chosen successor, and still he cowers before my dad. I’ll have to cure him of that when I become his wife.
“He’s marrying intomia famiglia!”Papa barks. “We are bigger, stronger. He should have accepted right away, and gratefully.Coglione.”
Wait. Marry?!
Who is he calling an ungrateful fucker? Why aren’t they happy about the marriage? And which one of my poor female cousins is being shipped off?
“He should have. I said ‘Listen,stronzo,this is theprincipessawe’re talking about, not some no-name soldier’s daughter.’”
Prin…
Principessa.
I sit up and feel all the blood drain from my head.
Bosco goes on, “And he said he wasn’t interested.”
