Page 4 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince

SIENA

A s I row the boat back toward the shore, I think about the strange interaction with Dario, Mr. Whoever He Is. He made me laugh far easier than any man ever has, and there was something interesting about his pushy, but not too pushy attitude.

Mostly, I think about what he said right at the end. He called me drop-dead gorgeous. I’m not sure what he thinks is going to happen between us–most likely nothing–but the compliment was welcome. And we had fun.

But that means nothing. Having a sun-filled romance is not on my to-do list.

Back at shore, I drag the boat up the beach and stow it behind the hut. The island is coming to life now, with people walking hand-in-hand down the bone-white sand, snorkelers in the crystal blue, and a few people playing volleyball further down the beach.

My cellphone rings from my waterproof fanny pack. It’s Veronica.

“Hey,” I say.

“How did it go?” she asks.

“They gave me the runaround about the pre-tour, so I did that myself. I think it will be fine. There’s not much in the way of landmarks, but just rowing around the island is an experience in itself. It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, great,” Veronica says, sounding distracted. “Could you come to my room? I have something I’d like to discuss.”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“It will be better if you come here.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up the phone and walk down the beach, scanning the snorkelers, the volleyball players, and the beachgoers. I take a moment to realize what I’m doing: searching for Dario. Annoyed, I quit it.

When I knock on Veronica’s door, she snaps, “Yes, come in.”

I push the door open to her lavish suite; a section of the floor is glass and shows the ocean below. She lies in the bed on the other side of the open-plan room, swaddled in blankets despite the heat, her hair stuck to her head.

Veronica is normally a classy older lady, with her dark red hair always styled, her makeup immaculate. She looks completely different right now.

“Is something wrong?” I say.

She blows loudly into a hankie. “What does it look like?”

My hands curl into fists. She’s not normally this rude either. “Are you sick?”

“Yes, God knows what it is. Some blasted plague, that’s what it feels like. But I didn’t call you here to complain. Take a seat, Siena.”

I grab a chair from the dining area and carry it to her bed.

“Not so close,” she chides. “We can’t afford for you to be struck down too.”

She says this in typical Veronica melodramatic fashion.

I sit, waiting for her to go on.

“This is going to be a lot to take in,” she says. “But you’re going to have to lead the charge for Evermore Events on this one.”

The news slams into me like a Mac truck. “You mean handle everything myself.”

“ Precisely .”

“But I’ve never been the lead on an event.” In the two years I’ve worked with Veronica, I’ve gone from an assistant to her right-hand woman, but I’ve never been the playmaker. “This is an enormous job. I don’t think it’s a good idea for something this big to be my first.”

“Look at me. We don’t have a choice,” she says, exasperated.

“The Bianchis expect the best.”

“I’m aware of that,” she snaps.

“Old money, you said, their wealth going back generations, the sort of people who own horses, play polo, and read The Great Gatsby like it’s a biography of their ancestors’ lives. I’m not from their world.”

“Your defeatist attitude isn’t helping matters.”

I almost snap at her, but I bite down to stop myself. Her attitude has changed so much since arriving here. Perhaps it’s because she’s ill, but that doesn’t make it okay.

My heart is pounding at the prospect of doing this alone.

“Will there be a pay rise?”

Veronica frowns. “I’m a little insulted that this is your first concern.”

“What’s insulting about that? I have always been open about wanting fair compensation for my work. In my interview, you said my straightforwardness was the reason you hired me. If I’m going to do this–and take on all the extra stress it entails–I think I deserve to be paid accordingly.”

“There will be a bonus upon successful completion of the event, yes.”

I tap my finger against my chin.

“You’re thinking of your mother,” Veronica says.

“I am. With a bonus, we might finally have enough for her to start her catering business again.”

“A moment ago, you sounded like you were too intimidated to even try.”

“Can you blame me, Veronica?” I snap.

“I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Fair enough, but can you? Going from being your right hand to orchestrating an entire event for an Old Money family with a whole island’s worth of logistics to keep track of–it’s a jump.”

“Are you up to the challenge?”

I almost say no, I’m not. She needs to fly in backup. But there would be repercussions if I admitted defeat here.

“How are you feeling?”

“You’re wondering if I’m going to recover in time to help you.”

“This is a week-long event, a week-long buildup to the renewal. There’s time.”

“The truth is, I feel awful. It’s like there’s a spike in my head and barbed wire in my throat and poison in my stomach. You should make your decision based on the assumption you’ll be doing this alone, all of it.”

I think of my mom with tears in her eyes. I did my best… The letters from the bank, her dream crumbling to ash…

I’m not entirely sure I’m up to the challenge, but I know one thing. If I don’t try, I won’t forgive myself.

“I can do it,” I affirm.

“Are you sure?”

No.

“Yes,” I tell her, trying to sound certain. “I’m the right woman for the job.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. I trust you to make sure this goes off without a hitch.”

“How much input do you want from this point forward?”

“I need to focus on recovering,” she says with a sigh.

“Okay, sure, fine. Yeah. Makes sense.”

Before I leave, Veronica says, “Good luck.”

I walk back down the beach, sweating, not from the heat, but from the sudden responsibility. This is huge. If I mess it up, it could have serious consequences, not just for me, but for Evermore Events. Veronica is trusting me with her baby.

But if I do well, I get a bonus… and I’ll earn Veronica’s respect, meaning I’ll get more solo gigs.

Trial by fire.

I return to Fantasy Boat Rental. A man I don’t recognize approaches me. He’s around fifty, maybe mid-fifties, bald on top with black-grayish hair sprouting from the sides. Oddly, when I saw Dario, I thought of the streaks in his hair as silver, not gray.

I need to focus.

“Hello… Siena, yes?”

“Yes, hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

He offers a hand covered in gold rings. “My name is Edoardo Bianchi, brother of the groom. Everybody calls me Eddy.”

“Nice to meet you. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I wanted to confirm that the boat tour is going ahead.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Ah, good,” he responds, looking almost angry, but I can’t think why he would be. “I heard whispers there might have been some kind of mix-up?”

I shake my head. “Everything is under control, Mr. Bianchi.”

He smiles thinly. “Eddy, please. Call me Eddy. We’re all friends on this beautiful island, aren’t we?”

Something about the way he says it gives me the creeps, but obviously, I don’t let that show. “Sure, we are.”

He pats me on the shoulder. “Good–that’s what I like to hear.”

When he walks away, I rub my shoulder, as if cleaning away his touch.