Page 3

Chapter 3

Massimo

I sit in the car with Gabe, waiting for my captive. I refuse to get out of my vehicle to board the plane myself. I refuse to go to her.

The princess will come to me.

The guards have already put Gemma and Nova's bags in the trunk.

I sit in the back of my armored Rolls Royce with Gabe in the driver's seat, waiting . Gemma and Nova didn't come out when the plane's cabin door had been opened and the stairs put out. Gabe hand-picked six of his most trusted men for this assignment regarding the Mancini Princess, and he sent them to board the plane and bring the princess out. She's likely being a stubborn bitch, railing against her captivity.

"Maybe Gemma killed her on the flight here," I murmur, and Gabe grunts a laugh.

It's a long flight, even on a private plane. I can't imagine my mafia cousin doing well with the princess' screeching demands and hissed threats the entire trip; Gemma wouldn't stand for that. Zio Riccardo involved her in the life of their mafia family over in Italy, and she has the stomach for what needs to be done in our world. Although, he refuses to give her a leadership role because she doesn't have a dick between her legs, which is a huge loss—Gemma would make a great second-in-command, in my opinion.

My phone rings, and I frown, seeing it's Gemma.

What the fuck is the hold-up ?

But I remain calm and controlled, like I highly value. "Cousin, please don't tell me you can't control a waif of a girl, even if she's being a spoiled brat?"

"Fuck you," Gemma huffs.

Okay, this is likely worse than I thought.

"Call your dogs off, Massimo." I frown, but before I can say anything, she continues, "We're coming, okay? Just tell the guards to get out."

"Why?"

"I don't know… They're triggering her or something."

I bark a laugh, it's harsh with no humor. "Of course, they're triggering her. They're there to make her cooperate, and she wants control, Gemma. Are you falling for whatever ruse the snake's spawn is pulling?"

"That's not it." She swears at one of the guards and tells him to back up. "Mass, seriously, call them off. We're coming out."

"Fine," I grit. I'm only doing this because Gemma asked; I wouldn't care or listen if the princess was shrieking her demands at me.

I hang up and say to Gabe, "Call the men back."

He speaks into his comms to communicate the order. Six men in combat gear with weapons on full display file out and position themselves on either side of the stairs, forming a funnel to the car's back passenger door. The princess won't be able to run when she finally deems us worthy of making a fucking appearance.

The way the guards are dressed is how Gabe runs his show—rather than suits, he opts for field gear, which is more functional for their role as soldiers. It also works well as an intimidation tactic—case in point is inside that plane.

But what did I expect? I'm dealing with a spoiled and pampered princess, the daughter of my enemy. Mancini is the worst of the worst, so why wouldn't I expect any less of his spawn? Of course, she'd be difficult and fighting, trying to control the situation to make us bend to her will rather than the other way around.

I smile inwardly. I'll have fun breaking her entitled little self. The princess wears the snakeskin of a Mancini. Despite the tiny, innocent-looking package, she's a viper underneath .

Movement catches my eye, and Gemma stands on the top of the stairs in a yellow flowing dress. Her raven hair is loose around her shoulders, and I know Gabe's reaction to seeing her without even looking at him.

My head bodyguard and best friend may be death-on-two-legs, but he's a big fucking teddy bear for my cousin.

I frown as Gemma turns and says something to someone inside the plane. Then she comes down the stairs, glaring at the guards, and waits at the bottom.

"What is she doing?" Gabe grips the steering wheel.

Gemma is acting odd. When you're in control of a captive, you lead them out—by the hair if you have to—not try and coax them out.

If I didn't know my cousin better, I'd say she had lost control as the captor, the roles were reversed, and she was being played by the captive. But Gemma is sly and cunning. She's a strategist, and she's jaded as hell. This doesn't make sense.

But all further thoughts are sucked out of my head when the princess finally deems us worthy of her presence.

I've only seen her in the photos that Crispin, our family's tech genius and hacker, took of Nova back home in Boston. Her creamy champagne-blonde hair and makeup are always done to perfection, and she wears the most expensive clothing.

Right now she's wearing a brown pantsuit romper that showcases her shoulders. She's even smaller in person.

Something about her makes me pause.

Her clothing is still well-cut and fashionable, but her hair is twisted into a messy bun on top of her head and her face is clean of make-up. The Mancini Princess always looks perfectly done up. I know Gemma drugged Nova at the club and then loaded her straight onto her family's plane, so that could be the reason for the messy hair and no make-up.

But her demeanor is all wrong.

In all the pictures, Nova looked the part of the perfect princess—soft, compliant, and poised. I'm not expecting that persona now, not after being kidnapped and forced onto a long-haul flight; I'm expecting the stiff spine of an indignant, pissed-off bitch who is ready to make her captor's life difficult .

I remember Mancini yesterday. We had caught him and his co-conspirators red-handed. I literally carried him by his neck and tossed him into a fucking pine box, and he still came up spitting and ready to fight.

His daughter is the complete opposite.

There's not an ounce of fight in her. I can see her fear and wariness as she studies the Rolls Royce and the darkened windows that prevent her from seeing who's inside. But there's no fight.

I narrow my eyes.

Well played, princess .

Oh, she's good. So good, in fact, that she's conned my cousin; because Gemma speaks to her again, like she's trying to coax a kitten that's been kicked and who's hiding under the porch.

Nova Mancini is even more like her father than I expected. A snake hiding the grass, waiting to strike and sink her venomous fangs into those who least expect it.

I catch the tremor in Nova's hand as she grips the rail—her acting skills are on point. She keeps her head lowered, eyes averted from the guards flanking on either side to funnel her to the car. She doesn't try to escape.

Gemma opens the back door for Nova to get in, and she slips in without resistance. She startles, though, when her doe-like brown eyes fall on me.

There's a wide console in the back that separates our seats. But I'm a big man—tall and wide—and I let all the menace I feel about having to let her bastard father go roll off me in waves. Those two things make my presence in the backseat with her more threatening.

Which is my intent. I want her to know she's in my world now, at my mercy.

The princess sucks in sharply and falls back against the door.

Gemma gets into the vehicle and slams the passenger door. "Massimo," she warns.

My eyes slowly swing to Gemma. I communicate without words that this is my world, and I'm in charge here.

"He won't hurt you, Nova."

I raise my brow. "So sure of that, Gemma? "

Nova shrinks back more against the door and closes her eyes. Gemma glares at me.

"Stay in your lane, cousin," I warn.

"Don't be a fucking dick, cousin ," she huffs, her anger evident, then turns to Gabe, and her dark look softens. "Hey, big guy. Miss me?"

He grunts in response, then puts the car into drive. The guards have gotten into the other two vehicles, where one leads us and the other takes position behind us.

Gemma's eyes—so much like my father's and Creed's—fall on the thick scar that starts behind Gabe's right ear and runs down his neck. That was one wound where we almost lost him; he had acted like an unhinged protector, just like my brother Vito, to protect Gemma and me when an enemy attacked. She blinks, probably pushing the memory away, and scans his muscular body and inky black hair while he's driving.

"You look good, Gabe."

His dark eyes cut over to her before turning back to the road. "You too, Gem."

Gemma twists in her seat to look at Nova. "Put your seat belt on."

Nova's head is slightly bowed, but she listens without hesitating.

My brows pull together with my severe frown. I don't like, nor do I want, this fake version of the princess. I want the real her—the version where she's just as bad as her vile father.

My patience for bullshit is limited on the best of days. After everything I've been juggling—keeping Vito and Eden alive, discovering Mancini's plot, but still having to spare his life—my patience is practically gone.

Add in the fact that I'd been conned and played by two of my supposed allies—and I pride myself on having a sharp sixth sense when someone is lying, yet I missed Lixin and Amazu's deception for months… It's a bloody miracle I have any patience left at all.

Granted, I'm glad there isn't the screeching banshee version of the princess I had anticipated. I had full intentions of restraining, gagging, and tossing her into the trunk if that was the case. However, this meek version she's trying to sell is really pissing me off .

"Look at me, princess." My tone is quiet but hard enough for her not to confuse me for caring about her outside of her being my checkmate chess piece.

She twists her head to look at me, playing at being timid and scared. Those big brown eyes lock on me. The longer I stare into them, it's like a wall raises and blocks the window to her mind and soul.

This reinforces my belief that she's hiding the kind of person she truly is from me. Mancini's perfect little princess, created and groomed to be his snake in the grass.

"Welcome to San Francisco, princess ." I pour the malice coursing through my veins into that word. "You're in my world now."