Page 28 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince

SIENA

T he music has started again, and people are trying to go on as though everything is normal, but it isn’t. I catch snippets of their conversations. “The Don shouldn’t…” Then they see me and go quiet, but that’s all I need.

As I put the pieces together, looking around at these slick men in their fine suits with gold jewelry gleaming everywhere, it seems obvious. It feels like I should’ve guessed this much sooner.

I finally find Rosy near the waterfall. She’s got her arms wrapped across her middle, and she’s staring into the water. Normally, she’s a figure who holds herself with pride, at least as long as I’ve known her. That’s not the case now.

She frowns at the men behind me, two mobbed-up bodyguards hovering like the angel and the devil on my shoulders. Though I suppose they’d both be the devil.

“Can you wait here?” I say to them. “I need to speak with Rosy alone.”

“Stay in our sight,” the big one says, staring at me blankly.

They back off a little, then I turn back to Rosy. She looks at the water, not at me, as though she doesn’t want to meet my gaze.

“Rosy, how did the power go out?”

“I don’t know,” she mutters, but I can tell she’s lying.

“Look at me and say that again.”

She won’t. She keeps staring into the water.

I take a step forward. “Rosy, I think you’re scared, and you know something. I can help you.”

“How?” she whispers.

“I’ve got a… friend who can help you. Dario–you know him, Vittorio’s son? He’s going to sort this out, okay? He’s going to make this right.”

I’m not sure if any of this is true, but I need to know what’s going on so I can save what’s left of this event. There’s a sour mood hanging over the entire party now, the good mood drained away.

“You saw who cut the power.”

“I didn’t…”

“I’m not asking you. I know you know. So, you might as well drop the act and just come clean.

Who was it? Describe him to me.” When she doesn’t respond, I snap, “Was he tall? Full head of gray hair? Were his teeth straight, white, and noticeable, perhaps new or worked on? A gold watch on his wrist?”

With each follow-up question, she tightens her straitjacket grip around her own body.

“His name is Rocco,” I say.

She finally looks at me – sharply. “How do you know that?”

“Instinct,” I say, thinking about how strange he’s been acting, the smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

She shakes her head slowly. “You don’t understand…”

“They’re in the mob, and he threatened you because he’s the one who’s behind this mess, right? Right?”

“His name is Rocco,” she mutters.

“And he threatened you to cut the power and to sabotage this event.”

A quick nod.

“I didn’t say anything.” She stares at me pleadingly. “Okay? I said nothing.”

“I understand, Rosy.” I touch her arm softly. “I’m going to make this right.” I turn to the two big men. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your names.”

“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, just please .”

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.”

“This was never going to be just a fling. You’re too stubborn, beautiful, clever, and resourceful. You’re too you , Siena.”

“You can’t talk your way out of this.”

“I’m telling you the truth. Call it a speech, cheesy, or any damn thing you want. There’s something here, and even if you want to fight it, you feel it too.”

He grabs me as if he owns me. I hate it. I love it. I want more of it.

He pulls me in, and I throw my arms around him and dig my fingernails into the back of his neck as though that can make up for this passion.

The kiss is intoxicating. He groans, the hard ridges of his body pushing through his suit, pressing right against me.

“How many times are you going to kiss me and make me stop you?” I pant.

“At least one more.”

Another cataclysmic kiss. I curl my toes as the desire to touch him all over his body grips me like a vise. He’s growing excited, his manhood stiffening, despite the circumstances, the lies, everything.

“I know who cut the power,” I say, breathing hard.

“What? How? Who?”

“Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

Part of me hopes he doesn’t, tells me I’m too tempting to let go. But then he releases me.

“The resort manager told me it was Rocco. That’s why I asked you to send your man to guard her, Mr. Mafia.”

He frowns at the new nickname. “Rocco,” he growls, his eyes calculating as though he’s remembering certain key moments. “Rocco,” he repeats, nodding. “Fuck.”

I almost tell him about the Rocco-Veronica connection, but what if I get Veronica in trouble? What if I risk her business, my job, our future?

I need to play this carefully.

“Are we done?” I snap.

“We’ll never be done,” he says, full of certainty.

“I’m not sure you’re right about that.”

“I’m sure,” he snaps.

“Can I go then, Mr. Mafia? Do I have your permission? Or are you going to whack me?”

He flinches at my words. I ignore the tightness in my gut telling me that was mean. “You don’t need my permission. But Nico will be going with you.”

“Do I have a say in the matter?”

“Until I know where Rocco is and I confirm he will not try anything more drastic, no. This is for your own good.”

I walk away before he can stop me. Or before I can stop myself from this need to be close to him.

Nico trails after me, keeping a distance.

I ignore him and walk back toward the hotel huts, my breath loud in my ears, the sand more of an irritant as it climbs into my shoes and wedges between my toes.

Knocking on Veronica’s door, I raise my voice. “It’s me. I’m coming in.”

“Siena?”

I try to push the door open, but it’s locked.

“You can’t be here.”

“You need to open the door right now, or I’m going to kick it down. I’m not joking. I know about Rocco. I know who he really is.”

“Please.”

“Last chance, Veronica.”

No response. I take a step back and kick the door. A sharp jolt moves up my leg, and the door barely moves. I don’t care. I kick it again. My short heels aren’t built for this, but I’m not built for flings with mafia men who make my head spin and turn my world upside down, so screw it.

Veronica opens the door with another kick.

I fly into her bedroom, falling down.

“Siena,” Veronica says, taking my arm and lifting me up.

“Is he here?” I demand, standing up, ignoring the aches and pains in my body.

“No,” she says, but her answer lacks conviction.

Instead of taking her word for it, I walk into the en-suite, then check her large closet. I go onto her balcony and check that too. I even look under the bed. Unless he’s got his hands on an invisibility cloak, he’s not here.

I turn to Veronica. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you know he’s behind the sabotage, Veronica? Did you know he’s the reason everything’s been going wrong?”

She shakes her head, but I’m not sure I believe her. She looks shifty.

“Are you sure?” I demand.

“I know nothing about any of this,” she snaps.

“You know Rocco is in the mob–that all these people are.”

She clenches her lips shut and offers a brief nod.

“You knew this had been a mess from the start, and you didn’t tell me.”

Another self-pitying nod.

“You could’ve warned me!” I snap. “Is he threatening you? Has he hurt you?”

“No,” she whispers. “But when I discovered who he was, I won’t lie, I was scared.”

“It seems he wants the… the Don position or whatever the hell it’s called. He wants to be the big boss, the man in charge. That’s the only explanation I can think of. It’s the only thing that makes this make sense.”

“I just want to sleep.”

Sleep isn’t going to help anything, but I’m cautious about pushing her too hard. After all, she’s still my boss. Once this is over, I’ll still need a job.

I take her by the shoulders. Before this trip, she would’ve stolen control back if I’d gone this far. Now, she just looks at me sadly. Like a beaten dog.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” she huffs.

“I can ask Dario to put someone on your hut to make sure you’re safe.”

“You’re working with them now?” She asks in disgust.

“No… It’s not like that.”

She brushes my hand away. “I get it. You’re with him now.”

“How are you going to take that tone when you’re doing the same thing, when your relationship with Rocco is the whole reason we’re here ?”

“I’m tired, Siena. Just go. Let me sleep. That’s not a request.”

What can I do? If I go against her wishes and tell Dario to put a guard on her room, she’ll know, and. Then she might punish me. Bye-bye, job. Bye-bye, any chance of helping Mom.

“You need to call or text me if he comes back. Okay? That’s the only way I’m going to agree to this.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“No, you need to swear. You need to swear on your daughter that you’ll do as I say.”

She gasps. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly. Otherwise, I don’t care if you fire me, I’m telling Dario. That’s what I should do, anyway.”

But I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Veronica hesitates.

“I remember what you said once,” I say. “You only swear when you mean it. You take these things seriously.”

“I do.”

“So, swear it. I need to make sure I’m here to help you if you need it.”

She says nothing for a long time, making me wonder if she’s going to do it. Then she sighs and says, “I swear.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep my phone on loud.”

“Great,” she mutters sarcastically. “Now, please let me sleep. I need my rest.”

I leave her hut, not exactly feeling confident, but slightly reassured.

Not about the whole situation, or me and Dario. But this small piece of it, at least, is somewhat under my control.