Page 5 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
DARIO
D uring the boat tour, I’m on a different boat than Siena.
She’s on the one, two boats ahead, and she’s too busy talking with my mother and father to notice me.
But I notice her, her hair down now instead of tied up, glimmering in the sun.
Mother laughs at something she says, touching her on the arm in the way she does when she likes someone.
I sit with my uncle Eddy and my godfather Rocco. Rocco is the consigliere of the Bianchi Family, though he’s not related by blood. Rocco and Eddy–they’re like yin and yang, Uncle Eddy dark and brooding, whereas Rocco is more like me, quick with a smile and a joke.
Eddy never wanted to be consigliere, or so he claims. He prefers to operate from the shadows, never desired the responsibility and the exposure that came with being second-in-command.
But sometimes, I wonder… especially when he looks at Rocco like he’s thinking about pushing him into the pristine blue.
“Have you heard the news?” Eddy says darkly. “That girl from Evermore is running the entire show now. Her boss is sick, from what I understand. Let’s hope she doesn’t mess it up.”
“You worry too much,” Rocco replies. They’re the same age, but Rocco has a full head of hair and clear, bronze skin, a mouth full of straight, white teeth. Eddy looks at least ten years older.
“You should worry more. It’s your job,” Eddy fires back.
“We’re here to have fun.”
“Incorrect. We’re here so that Vittorio and Marcela can show a unified front to the Family. This is a political event as much as a personal one.”
“She’ll do fine,” I say.
Eddy looks at me sideways. “What are you basing this analysis on?”
“Instinct.”
Eddy laughs grimly. “I prefer data.”
“Just give her a chance.”
My godfather claps me on the arm. “I trust Dario’s instincts.”
The boat tour takes us around the island, the sunlight glittering down over the blue waves, making the sand seem to glow yellow. We go ashore on the other side of the island, where Evermore Events has set up shaded marquees with refreshments and a small buffet.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” Mother says, approaching me with a coconut in her hand, a straw sticking out of it.
I wrap my arm around her and give her a squeeze. “It’s great–it looked like you were having fun.”
“That girl is delightful,” Mother says. “So funny.”
“I agree.”
“You’ve met her?”
“Briefly, when I was snorkeling this morning.”
“How lovely.”
I look across the marquees–past the Family, past their wives, around forty people in total–to where Siena talks with one of the catering staff. She’s wearing a dress that emphasizes the shape of her breasts and her ass. It’s probably not designed to do that, but that’s where my gaze goes.
“It’s just so nice to get away,” Mother goes on. “To forget about the city.”
“I agree. I’m glad you’re having fun. Forty years of marriage–you and father deserve it. How is he? Managing to forget about work?”
“As much as he can. You know how he is.”
I do, because it’s how I’m forced to be a lot of the time. As the prince of the Bianchi family, I’ve got a heavy weight on my shoulders. I give my mother another squeeze. “You’re right–it’s good to get away.”
I approach the buffet table, getting close enough to Siena that I can hear her voice. “…doing a fantastic job, but I think we need to circulate with some nibbles so that people who don’t want to queue for the buffet don’t have to. I’m happy to pitch in with that.”
I walk up behind her. “Excuse me, Siena? I’d like to make a complaint.”
She turns with a scowl… then, when she sees it’s me, her face lights up. A moment later, the scowl returns, but it’s forced. She seems determined not to smile at me.
“It’s the merman,” she says with an air of irony. “Did you really want to make a complaint?”
“Yes–you haven’t eaten anything.”
“I’m too busy.”
“You should take a few minutes for yourself.”
“Are you my babysitter?”
“It seems like you need one. I don’t want you starving yourself.”
She needs to feed her perfect body, her wide hips, the mouthwatering thickness of her thighs.
“I’ve got things to do, sir.”
“Sir,” I repeat. “Ah–I get it. Now that you know I’m with the wedding party, you’re going to show me some respect.”
She shrugs. “I’m just doing my job.”
“What if I said I was Vittorio Bianchi’s son? Would you eat something for me then?”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re his son?”
I nod, trying to maintain my good mood. Honestly, I don’t like being defined as the Bianchi Prince. But she was going to find out eventually.
“Yes, I am, and my father tends to listen to me. So–eat something. You’ve earned it.”
She sighs. “Maybe I can take a minute or two.”
“I’ll make you up a plate.”
I stack two plates with food, then look around for her. She’s gone to the very edge of the marquee, sitting alone.
“Why’d you run away?” I set her plate down.
“It’s not my place to be at the party. I should be invisible, making sure everything goes without a hitch. That’s my only concern.”
“You’re not invisible.”
Her lip twitches at my comment. “Thanks, I guess.”
“I heard you’re taking the reins for Evermore.”
“My boss is sick, so yeah, the weight is on my shoulders now. I won’t lie, I’m nerv—” She catches herself. “I’m going to make this the best event your parents could hope for.”
“Relax, I’m not going to report anything you say.”
“Seriously, I’m going to do my best.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great, Siena, but you need a work-life balance too. I hope you find time to enjoy yourself.”
“I’m not here to enjoy myself.”
“If you were, what would you do?”
“Huh?”
“What do you do for fun?”
“Fun,” she repeats like the concept is foreign to her.
I chuckle. “It’s this thing where you don’t walk around looking like you’re searching for someone to punch.”
“Oh–that’s not how I look, is it? I don’t want to sour the experience for anybody.”
Guilt grips me at the thought that I might have caused her to worry. I squeeze her hand, don’t even think about it. “I was only kidding. My mother was just singing your praises, in fact. I think the only person you look like you want to punch is me.”
She looks down at my hand touching hers, her honey eyes filled with conflict, then pulls away. “You got me soaked this morning.”
Don’t remind me, Siena. I still vividly remember her image, soaked and with her clothes clinging to her. “I think you did that to yourself.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if you’d been a gentleman and fallen in sooner.”
“I’ve been accused of being many things, but never a gentleman.”
She leans forward. “I should get back to work.”
“First, you need to eat something.”
She picks up a lobster leg. “If I eat something, will you let me get on with it?”
“I don’t want you running yourself ragged. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us.”
“That’s not an answer to my question.” She pales. “Sorry, I didn’t mean?—”
“You better not start being all fake nice to me now just because you know who I am. Be yourself.”
She looks into my eyes, seeming playful despite herself. “You might regret saying that.”
“Somehow, I doubt it.”
She bites her lip, then quickly lets it go. Any time she allows her mood to change her features, she instantly gets annoyed with herself.
“What?” she says.
“What?” I counter.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
“You’re interesting, Siena, that’s all.”
She smooths down her dress, then fidgets with her hands in her lap. My memory saves the moment her hand presses down against her breasts, her stomach, her legs. She makes me feel savage for one hungry, insane moment.
“I can’t eat with you watching me. So, if you want me to fuel up like you claim, you should probably leave me alone.”
I stand. “Your wish is my command,” I say with a bow.
Another smile – another correction. “Are you always this cheesy?”
“You bring it out of me, beautiful.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she mutters.
“What?”
“Beautiful. Gorgeous.”
“I can’t point out the basic fact that you’re an attractive woman?”
She looks up at me, scowling. “I’m here to do a job, not… not whatever you’re trying to do.”
“What I’m trying to do is woo you.”
She stands. “Good luck with that.”
As she walks away, I watch the sway of her hips. She looks over her shoulder, smiles like it’s a reflex, then storms off.