Page 58 of Taken by the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #1)

SERA

“ G orgeous,” Giuliana Ricci said as she lifted her chin and stared down the length of her sharp nose at me. She still blocked my way, perched at the top of the staircase. I stood two steps below, feeling small and caged.

Killian resembled her in many ways. Her wide mouth and high cheekbones were striking, even in her old age. But it was her eyes that were most like his. Pale blue fanned by black lashes. They made her look young but soulless.

There was no warmth in her expression as she stepped toward me with a cat-like grin that set my teeth on edge. “You look like your mother, darling. I never thought I’d see the new Bianchi princess in person. How lucky for me, and unlucky for you.”

“Lovely to meet you,” I croaked, unease rippling over my skin. Something about her wasn’t right. There was nothing behind her ice-cold eyes. May as well patronize her.

She drew in her breath behind her cigarette and blew it out in a puff of thick, minty smoke. “My son was supposed to kill you already. He’s fucking you, isn’t he? Have you become his little slut like the rest of them?”

“Excuse me?”

She waved her cigarette in my face, the gesture somehow wicked and graceful all at once.

“It’s the only possible reason I can conclude as to why you still have breath in your lungs.

” Her lips peeled off her teeth in a smile that made my skin itch.

“Don’t be ashamed, dear. We can’t all be powerful.

Someone has to sit at the bottom of the pile. ”

Something sharp and hot settled in my chest. I shoved it away and tilted my chin upward in defiance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, girl.” She chuckled, the sound like gravel.

“I’m just trying to go back to my room.”

“No,” she said sharply, taking another step toward me. She curled a lock of my hair around a skinny white finger, her red-painted mouth twisting into a sick smile. “Caterina must be rolling over in her grave at the thought of her daughter being so weak, so loose with her morals.”

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed, taking a single step backward. There was nothing but stairs behind me, the cold tile of the foyer far below. She blocked me from going upstairs, moving when I moved.

“I want to know what you’ve done to stay alive for this long. Is it what’s between your legs that’s preventing my son from slitting your throat?”

The same fear I’d felt when I was threatened before, with kidnapping, auctioning, and rape, began to pulse inside me as panic rushed my mind. I needed to get past her. “That’s none of your business. Please, let me through.”

“I am the queen of this house, you little slut,” she hissed.

“I’m not a slut. I just want to be left alone,” I spat, confusion clouding my mind. What did I need to do to get away from her? “Get out of my way.”

She took a single step down the stairs to stand before me. The scent of sweet vermouth hit me, twisting my stomach into a knot as it mingled with the heavy smell of menthol smoke coming off her clothes.

Unbothered by my requests, she continued.

“I was friends with your mother, you know. I was there the day Leonardo was born. Such a sweet baby, so pretty. Such a perfect Bianchi prince. Your mother’s pride and joy for those few, fleeting years she was his and his alone.

Before your snake of a father got his hands on him and turned into what he became. ”

“Please, just get away from me.” Desperation filled my voice.

She continued, undeterred. “How a monster like that could have been born from someone like Caterina is beyond comprehension,” she growled, her words sharpened to an edge. “And your father. Oh, my darling, darling girl, one day his body will be strung from my gates, and I will watch him rot!”

I tried to take another step away from her, to move around her, but she grabbed me by the shoulder, her claw-like red nails sinking into my arm.

“Your mother paid the price for what her son became,” she taunted. Her blue eyes were so wide they were completely surrounded by white. “And so will you.”

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. Fear locked my joints to the point I couldn’t move. How was it possible I could stand before the Hand of Death himself and spit venom in his face, yet his own mother had me cowering and trembling before her?

“Let me make one thing crystal clear,” she whispered into my ear. “Many whores like you have come into my house, the house my husband built, to fuck my son to save their sorry, worthless lives. I will not allow a Bianchi bitch to weasel her way into my family.”

“That’s not what?—”

“Your mother tried to save you from this, you know. When she saw what your father had turned your brother into, she tried to take you back to Italy, to hide you there. Hmm, poor little Caterina. Trying to escape cost her everything.”

Tears welled up in my eyes at the thought of my mother. I would’ve raised a hand to my rosary, but I couldn’t move. And it wasn’t there. I’d hidden it in my room for safekeeping.

A sickly smile brushed over her lips as she looked me in the eyes. “I sold her out.”

“What?” I choked, totally lost in the eyes that were identical to Killian’s but completely deranged.

Her smile widened. “I told your father of her plans. And do you know how I was rewarded?”

“Oh, my God?—”

“He killed my husband,” she screeched, clutching my shirt with both hands. My knees began to buckle as she squeezed, and my mind raced.

Memories broke over me. My sweet mother standing in our family kitchen, making me breakfast, the way she used to do, instead of letting the cooks do it.

She’d smiled at me, sliding over a plate of eggs and bacon.

“ We’ll go on an adventure soon, baby. As soon as you’re done with school.

” I’d smiled and laughed, biting into the perfect scrambled eggs.

When I’d returned from school, she wasn’t there. She was just gone, no trace of her left in the house. Like she’d never existed. Father had said she was dead. That was it. End of story.

There’d been a funeral, but the memories of it were blurry. I’d been told it was an accident. Whispers had echoed through the halls of my house. She’d been on her way to surprise me at school, to pick me up for the adventure. The car had rolled over, caught on fire. Nothing left.

It had been my fault—all of it. Mine.

Fighting tears, I refocused on Giuliani Ricci. “What do you want from me?”

“This, you stupid bitch.” Giuliana’s eyes narrowed, her face twisting into a maniacal smile before she lifted both hands and shoved me as hard as she could.

My feet left the step, my hands flailing to grab hold of her, the railing, anything.

My fingernails scraped wood, but I couldn’t secure my grip.

I fell—with nothing below me but the cold marble tile of the foyer.