Page 26 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince

SIENA

I stand at the edge of the party. The sun has set, and the lights are glowing from behind the waterfall, in the pool, and all around the perimeter.

The lights change softly through all the colors of the rainbow.

Serving staff circulate, and the food gazebo is running smoothly. So far, there have been no mishaps.

I leave the party and walk into the semidarkness of the perimeter when Rosy offers me a shaky grin, but the resort manager can’t hide her nerves. I remember what she admitted to: the funny business, the sabotage. But she didn’t say it outright.

I’m sick of living in the dark.

“Is the fireworks team ready?” I ask.

“Everything is going as planned,” she replies.

“And I’m not going to get any surprises?”

She touches her chest. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean, Rosy. Everything’s going to keep going as planned?”

“I’m doing my best, but as you know, I’m reluctant to make guarantees.”

I almost snap at her. Ever since earlier with Dario, I’ve been on edge. It’s like the hot air has turned from pleasant to cloying. Without replying, I make my way back to the party.

Is this family just stuck up and plain stuck in their Old Money ways, or is there more going on? The criminal element was a theory… until Dario refused to deny it.

Rocco approaches me, wearing a tuxedo, with a flashy gold watch on his wrist. “Hello, Siena. Having fun?”

“I’m happy everything is going well.”

“I wanted to ask…” He moves to place his hand on my arm, but then lowers it when he sees my face. “Am I free to assume you’ve kept quiet about mine and Veronica’s private relationship?”

“I don’t gossip about my boss.”

“Excellent,” he says. “And I also wanted to apologize if I came across as… less than gentlemanly before. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” I say stiffly.

“Ah–good.”

Dario must see us talking, because he strides across the party, looking dashing in his tuxedo, the fabric hugging his hulking body tightly. Even hotter is the way his intense eyes roam over me like he can’t help himself.

“Everything okay?” he says.

“I was just complimenting Miss Walsh on the party. It’s a hit.”

This lying is getting out of hand.

“Excuse me, I’m going to get another plate… even if I shouldn’t.”

Rocco laughs and wanders off.

“He’s right,” Dario says. “It’s a great party… and you look amazing.”

“Thanks. I don’t normally wear stuff like this.”

It’s a blue number that shows off a sliver of leg and more than a glimpse of cleavage, one that I think hugs my figure.

“You look incredible,” Dario says. “Anyone would think you wore it to drive me crazy.”

He draws a smile out of me like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like there isn’t a rift between us. A rift of my own making, if I’m honest. “You might be onto something there.”

“You should be proud of this,” he says, gesturing at the party, the waterfall. “I think your mother would be proud too.”

“Are you trying to head fuck me?” I blurt.

He narrows his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. Earlier, you pled the Fifth, and now you’re talking about my mom, which you know will get to me. I’m not falling for that crap.”

“I’d never try to trick you to get anything from you. I wouldn’t want you like that.”

“You just can’t tell me if I’m going to sleep with a criminal or just an Old Money douche?”

He moves closer to me. “So, we’re going to sleep together?”

“Keep dreaming.”

“You just said it…”

“You’re not the only one who can tell lies.”

He looks so wounded, I almost apologize. But I stop myself.

“For what it’s worth, I meant what I said. I’d never trick you… but your mother, if she saw this, would be proud. And she’d have every right to be. Why don’t you take a photo or a video to show her?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”

He playfully bops my nose. It would be patronizing if someone else did it, but from him, it’s endearing. “Because you, Siena the Savior, are always too busy worrying about how things could go wrong.”

I take out my phone and record a video of the party, turning in a circle. When the camera pans over Dario, he flexes his arms. I laugh. “What are you doing?”

He winks. “I want to look my best…”

“Careful, muscle man, you might tear your suit.”

I say it jokingly, but the sight of his muscles bulging in that tuxedo jacket is no laughing matter.

“Are you going to send that one?” he asks, chuckling.

“Yep.”

My mother replies almost straightaway.

“She says it looks amazing… and yep, she’s proud. She also asked, who is the douche flexing?”

“Really?” He laughs, not offended at all.

“No,” I admit. “She actually asked if I’m having a holiday fling with you.”

He looks even more pleased now. “You serious?”

I show him the screen.

“There it is, in black and white. Now we have to do something.”

I laugh even more, my headache fading. Maybe I could actually enjoy this party after all. “I don’t let my mother choose who I sleep with.”

“Why not? She’s clearly got excellent taste.”

“You’re just incapable of being serious, aren’t you?”

“I’m addicted to more than your body, Siena. Your laugh is like a drug.”

I mime puking.

“That–here? I’m not sure the other guests would appreciate it.”

It takes me a moment to get what he’s hinting at. “Ha, ha, no–not that.”

“Whatever you say, beautiful. It looked like you wanted to give me a blowjob right…”

“What’s this about blowjobs?” Marcela says, appearing as if by magic.

My cheeks flame red. Dario stares at me with wide eyes.

“Tell me this isn’t happening, Siena.”

“I’m sure I heard something about blowjobs…” Marcela chuckles

“I think it’s happening,” I say, unable to hold back my laughter.

“I’ve always loved embarrassing him,” Marcela says, winking at me.

The music changes, with a slow number replacing a fast track. Marcela grins at her son. “If you want an opportunity to flee this conversation, this music makes the perfect excuse.”

Dario offers me his hand. “Siena, dance with me. Or we can stay here and talk to my mother about…”

I don’t hesitate to make an escape. “Let’s dance.”

He holds my hand in full view of everyone.

I don’t look around as he leads me to the center of the dance floor.

I don’t want to see the judgment, if there is any, and I don’t want to think either.

Maybe it’s bad with so much still in the air, but it’s easy to press myself against him as soft violin music plays, other couples weaving together slowly.

I wrap my arms around him and hold tight, feeling safe as we rock together. When he kisses me on the forehead, a soft spot of warmth, it feels natural, like maybe it could work out.

“This must be what it feels like to be part of a couple,” he says warmly.

“You’ve never been in a relationship before?”

“Not really. A few temporary things here and there, but nothing…”

“Like this?” I offer.

“I’ve never wanted to slow dance with anyone before. I’ve never wanted a dance to last more than one song. Go on, Siena, pretend to puke again.”

“I can’t,” I whisper. “It’s too sweet.”

“Have you ever been in a real relationship?”

“Nothing serious,” I tell him. “I’ve never wanted to slow dance either.”

“And now?”

“I want it to last forever.”

I almost say, but I don’t want to ruin the moment.

As the music flows, I whisper, “What does a real relationship look like?”

“Dances, dates, laughter.”

“Trust,” I say.

“Trust most of all. Trust and honesty.”

“Trust and honesty,” I repeat.

He looks down, our noses tickling each other, our gazes consuming one another. Dreamily, I get lost in his intense eyes. I always thought that was just a cliché, but here I am.

“I want to tell you everything,” he says.

“But you’re scared.”

He nods. “How could you tell?”

“It’s obvious. I’m scared too.”

“You are?”

“I’m scared that whatever you tell me won’t be enough to stop me from wanting you.”

He breathes heavily. “Once I say it, I can’t take it back. You’ll never be able to look at me the same way.”

“You’re more than Old Money, aren’t you?”

“We’re—”

Suddenly, the music stops and the lights cut out.