Bad Princess: A Mafia Romance Read online

  “Matty, I’ve had a bad day; a real bad day, and I need sleep.” She takes a step forward, but so do I, blocking the entryway and crossing my arms. “What the hell?”

  “You have some nerve showing your face here of all places,” I seethe, yelling at her. Clenching my teeth, I ball my fists, squeezing them as tight as I can, feeling my joints pop.

  “Why are you being this way? I tell you I’ve had it rough and you don’t even care? You don’t even want to know what happened to me? Matty . . .” she whines. But then she pokes her lips out and I almost lose it.

  I drop my arms and start to take a step. “Let me tell you something, you piece of—”

  “Whoa, big guy.” Sienna grabs my shirt, tugging the material, before squeezing between me and the doorframe, stepping onto my small stoop. She places her palm on my chest, and instantly, it deflates. I exhale. “Let’s bring our voices down to a level that isn’t going to wake little ears. Okay?”

  Brooklyn is a sound sleeper. Nothing or no one is going to wake her, certainly not my voice. When she’s asleep, she’s dead to the world until morning.

  “Who the hell are you?” Kennedy snarls, her lip curling in disgust.

  Sienna swings her head from me to look over her shoulder at my ex. “Someone who is going to give you another scar to match the one I gave you above your right eyebrow if you don’t watch yourself,” Sienna remarks.

  Wait a minute.

  Kennedy does have a scar. It’s faint, but it’s there, and she got it our senior year of high school. She told me her heel broke on her shoe and she stumbled into the metal latch on a locker.

  Si is responsible for that? How did I not know?

  “Oh, my god.” Snapping her attention to me, her mouth hangs open. “What the fuck is this weird bitch doing here, Matteo?”

  Sienna pivots, facing away from me, but I wrap my arm around her waist, snagging her backward against my chest before she bolts toward Kennedy. “Easy, bad princess,” I whisper close to her ear. “No need to waste your time on her.”

  “Matteo!” Kennedy huffs. “What is she doing here?” Kennedy plants her hands on her hips, staring long and hard at Sienna. “If you think for a second, you have a chance with him, you’re delusional. He’s mine. He’s always been mine and always will be.”

  “You’re the one that’s delusional if that’s what you think. We’ve been over for a long time, Kennedy.”

  “We have a daughter together.”

  Fire shoots through my veins at the mention of Brooklyn, putting my feet in motion. I step forward, pushing Sienna along with me, but she juts out both arms, bracing them against the doorframe on both sides, halting us. For someone small, she’s strong as fuck. Any other time I’d take a second and admire that, but right now, I want to wrap my hands around my daughter’s mother’s throat.

  Sienna must sense that and is intent on stopping me. “At what point today, or tonight, did you remember you have a kid? Where do you suppose Brooklyn is right now?”

  “With you, obviously.” She sighs, shaking her head. “Matty, please tell her to leave and let me come in. I’m tir—”

  “I’m not the one leaving,” Sienna remarks, cutting Kennedy off. The confidence laced in her words soothes me somehow, but the sight of Brooklyn’s mother only fuels the fire burning inside me.

  “You’re damn right my daughter is with me, which is exactly where she belongs. No thanks to you. While you were laid up in the hospital, did you ever once ask if she was okay?”

  “Wait a minute. You knew I was in the ER and you didn’t come check on me?”

  “Are you kidding me right now? You placed Brooklyn in danger today and that broke my last straw with you.” My head swings from side to side. “I’m not letting you anywhere near her again. And if you don’t have a reason to see Brooklyn, you certainly don’t have a reason to see me, or show up at my house or any of my fights.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course, I do. I belong here.”

  “Leave, Kennedy. Get off my patio. Get away from my house. Get away from me. Now,” I warn, my tone darker than I’ve ever heard myself.

  “Matteo,” she exasperates.

  Yanking Sienna inside, I slam the door and then flip the lock before I put her on the floor.

  “You ready to tell me what happened today?”

  “You couldn’t figure it out after all that?”

  “I have a guess, but why don’t you paint the picture for me.”

  “Let’s go upstairs.” I grab her hand, interlocking my fingers with hers and tug her up the carpeted stairs, back to the living room. Brooklyn is still sound asleep, lying on her stomach on the couch.

  Dropping Sienna’s hand, I trek to the couch and gently pick my daughter up, pulling her to my chest and embracing her small body. She’s my world, and a number of bad things could have hurt her today. That thought alone makes me feel murderous. I’d do anything to ensure my daughter’s safety. If that wasn’t clear before today, it is now. I’d walk through Hell for her. I’d take on the devil himself and come out the champ if I had to save my baby girl.

  Once I have Brooklyn tucked under the covers in her bedroom, I walk out, closing the door behind me. Sienna is still standing in the same spot she stopped when I let go of her hand. Not going to lie, when our fingers were connected it felt right, and when I released her, my palm itched to have her flesh back with mine.

  “What are you doing?” I ask when she snatches her cell phone from where she plugged it into the charger on the table next to the stairs.

  “I’m going to ask Ren to come get me.”

  “No, you’re not.” I step toward her and pluck the phone from her hand. “You asked me a question and I plan on answering, but I’m tired, so we’re going to talk in bed. Let’s go.”

  “I don’t think so, big guy.” She extends her arm, demanding her phone back without words.

  Glancing down, I press the button on the side of the phone with my thumb to brighten the screen. “It’s almost two in the morning. No sense in making your brother come get you. I’ll take you home in the morning.”

  “Do I need to remind you of what happened the last time I fell asleep here?”

  “No. My memory works just fine.” A yawn escapes my lips. “Baby, I don’t scare easily. Besides, if you really want to know, then you have to stay to find out.”

  Pivoting, I walk away from her still clutching her phone in my hand. I set it on the nightstand next to the side of the bed I normally sleep on and then pull my T-shirt over my head, tossing the shirt in the direction of my closet.

  Sienna appears in the doorway, her body language suddenly shy, and hesitant. It makes me wonder if I’m pushing her too far too fast. I’ve never had to work this hard for pussy before, but then I’ve also never wanted to make an effort before.

  “Just talking and then sleeping,” I clarify, in case she thinks I’m expecting more. I definitely want more, but I’ve already come to realize she isn’t the type of girl to fall into a man’s bed after the first date. Maybe not even the second or third. I’m going to have to get more persuasive if she drags this out. “Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m the first man you’ve ever slept in the same bed with.”

  I drop my eyes to the floor and kick off my tennis shoes. When I look back up, she steps in my bedroom, still silent, still reluctant.

  “Leave the sweats on,” she says when I place my hands at the waistband of my pants.

  “Sure.” I hold my hands up in surrender. It’s not unusual for me to sleep in my sweatpants or gym shorts. Every now and again Brooklyn will sneak in my room in the middle of the night and crawl in my bed. For that reason, I always sleep clothed when she’s home.

  Pulling the covers back, I slide between the dark gray sheets. Sienna stares at me the entire time she is taking off her shoes and then a beat after that. The uncertainty in her dark eyes makes me want to reassure her that I’ll stay on my side, but honestly, I can’t fathom not touching her if she decid
es to crawl in my bed with me.

  Her expression changes, morphing into what I’m starting to think is part mask, part show, or a combination of the real woman behind it. A coy smile spreads across her face as she pulls back the covers and slips under the sheet. She’s still wearing her tank top and shorts and whatever else is under them, but I can’t fault her for remaining clothed when she ordered me to keep my pants on.

  “There’s no shame in admitting you want the same thing I do,” I tell her. “Neither of us know whether this is something just for now or something else that I won’t bother to put a label on at this point.”

  “Way to make a woman swoon, De Salvo. You’re really selling this,” she states sarcastically as she inches closer to me. Lying back and laying her head down on the pillow, she turns toward me, her dark eyes curious. “Why are you suddenly interested in me?”

  “Who said it was suddenly?” I counter, not wanting to admit the truth.

  “Before two weeks ago, I was just some girl you graduated high school with. You probably didn’t even remember my name. That is if you knew it to begin with. It’s not like you noticed I existed back then. You never looked twice at me.”

  There’s sorrow reflecting back at me; perhaps even a bit of anger, though her tone is even. Had I not been watching her closely I might not have even recognized it. Besides, her accusation isn’t true. I looked at her. I looked at her more than I care to admit. “I noticed you.”

  Her eyes roll and then she scowls at me. “No, you didn’t. Don’t start this out with a lie, Matteo.” Lifting her head and coming up on her right elbow, she points back and forth between us with her left hand. “That’s going to end this before it even begins.”

  “It’s not a lie,” I vow. “Back then I didn’t understand it. I told myself you weren’t my type. But I did notice, and maybe if you hadn’t been pretending to be some little goody-two-shoes then I wouldn’t have stayed away from you.”

  “Now you’re blaming me?” A sardonic laugh filters past her lips.

  “Well . . . kind of is your fault, babe.”

  “Subject change,” she singsongs. “Why did Dad have Brooklyn at the house today? And exactly how did Kennedy put her in danger like you claimed?”

  The anger I felt when I opened my front door, seeing my ex standing on the patio like some washed-up drug addict returns full force. My jaw locks and my skin burns as my muscles coil.

  Sienna reaches out, her palm pressing into my chest. “Relax.” Her tone is soft, like a melody, but it hits my eardrums like a command that my body seems to obey. My shoulders drop and air expels from my lungs. “If you don’t want to tell me it’s fine.”

  It’s not fine. That thought throws me for a loop. I’ve never felt the need to explain myself or anything that happens in my life to anyone other than my parents. Being an only child, I’m sure I was somewhat isolated compared to the way siblings are with each other. I didn’t have to share my toys—or my thoughts.

  She goes to retract her hand, but my reflexes are quick. I grasp her palm, stopping her, and then flatten her hand back out on my chest. I like the way it feels when she touches me and I’m not ready to lose that just yet.

  “Your dad was driving down a street in a not so pleasant area. He saw Brooklyn as he was passing by an apartment building.” My fist curls from where it rests at my side as I’m propped up on my other side facing Sienna, her palm still firmly planted in the center of my chest. I don’t understand how her touch soothes me so much, but it does, just like her being here with me in my bed. We aren’t even naked, yet I enjoy the ease of conversation, even if the topic is Sienna’s dad and my daughter.

  I fill her in on as much as Tony told me. I don’t believe for a minute he told me everything, but that doesn’t matter. Kennedy had our daughter in a part of Brooklyn, New York—the very city my daughter is named after—she never should have been in. Don’t get me wrong, I love Long Island. Hell, I even love New York City. This is my home, but like any place in the world, there are bad parts mixed in with good places. My daughter is still a kid and I plan on keeping as much of her innocence intact for as long as possible. There are things no kid needs to bear witness to, and things that go on in that small part of the city is one of them.

  “I don’t like Kennedy, I never have, but I didn’t take her for a heroin addict.”

  “She isn’t,” I deadpan. “At least, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t do the hard stuff. She smokes pot, and has since junior high. She drinks too much and doesn’t have a responsible bone in her body, but she’s never, to my knowledge, crossed that line.”

  My stare penetrates hers as silence envelops us both, swirling around us like a cloak. After a long beat, she’s the first to move as she cocks an eyebrow, her assumption pouring out of her brown eyes before her pretty lips part. “Something you’re not saying, Matteo?”

  “Not something I’m not saying, Si. Something you’re already thinking,” I accuse.

  “Daddy wouldn’t have touched her. And he certainly wouldn’t have shot her up with heroin, or any other drug for that matter.” Her breath coats my face like molten lava as the tips of her fingers slowly move across my bare chest, her nails sinking into my skin like claws.

  This is the woman I witnessed at Raymond’s a few weeks ago. She’s lethal when it comes to protecting her family; that’s easy to pick up on. If this conversation was about anything other than what it is, I’d smile and feel a sense of pride in how strong she comes off. I can’t deny that watching this side of her turns me on. Hell, if I’m honest, every side of her turns me on.

  “Someone shot her up with heroin. Someone caused her to overdose.” I take a breath. “I’m not searching for any excuse for her. I simply don’t believe Kennedy did it herself.”

  I said those exact words to Tony. He didn’t refute my claim, nor did he admit to being her catalyst either. What he did say didn’t really make any sense to me. Still doesn’t, and I’ve repeated them over and over since they left his lips.

  The woman you choose to be the mother of your children, your partner, and the only person you can truly trust in life other than yourself should be the most careful and thought-out decision you ever make, Matteo. Choosing wrong will leave you with life-long consequences.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he chose wrong, if that was why his wife is dead. Something told me that would be the wrong question to ask the Boss.

  “If she OD’d on heroin, then the heroin was already in the apartment she was in, Matteo. She may not have been partaking in it, but it was there and so was she, and she had your daughter in that environment by choice. What does that say about her as a mother?”

  “She’s a shitty mother. I’ve known this for five years. That doesn’t make it okay for your father to shove needles in a woman’s arm to try and kill her.”

  “My dad didn’t do that,” she snaps back. “That’s something Dom would do, not Daddy. My father would never lay a hand on any woman in a negative or harmful way,” she reiterates.

  “Funny. What do you call what he did to you last weekend?”

  “A lesson. But I’m also his daughter and a Caputo. There is a difference. He wasn’t beating on me. He wasn’t abusing me. He didn’t do anything a coach or an opponent wouldn’t have done in the same circumstance. Tony Caputo never took a belt or used any other object to spank his kids. He taught us lessons in other ways—some verbal, some physical. But he was never abusive, and you better bet your ass he never took us to a drug den either.” Her torso lifts until she towers over me, and I have to look up to see her eyes. They’re heated, and she’s pissed. “If Dom did do what you’re suggesting, then I’d applaud him. The world would be better without her existence. Brooklyn would be better off without her.”

  When she finishes, her breathing is labored like she ran a marathon, but no remorse resides behind her eyes. She meant every word. I can’t fault her for them. If I did, I’d have to fault myself too. It’s not like I haven’t
wished Brooklyn had any other mother in the world rather than the one she does.

  Sienna snatches her hand from my chest as if my skin burned her—that I find fault with. I’m not ready for her to stop touching me. Not by a long shot.

  She turns away from me and starts to scoot her ass out of the bed, but I snag her around the waist and pull her against my chest. “Where do you think you’re running off to?”

  “I’m leaving,” she bites out, and I can’t control the smile that spreads across my face.

  Throwing my heavy leg around her, I tighten my grip. “No, you’re not, baby. You’re staying right here with me.”

  “Stop calling me ‘baby.’ It’s annoying.” She huffs out an exaggerated breath that seemingly dissipates my sour mood, making me bark out a laugh.

  “I forgot. You prefer bad princess.”

  “Let me go, Matteo.” She pushes down on my forearm but there’s no power behind her action. She may be a lot smaller than I am, but I’ve gone toe to toe with her. Maybe not in a real spar, but enough she can handle herself, and if she really wanted me off her, she’d find a way to get out of my hold.

  “No. I think I’m going to keep you.”

  “I’m not a toy.”

  “You’re right, you’re not. You’re so much more. And I don’t want you to leave. Stay. I’ll take you home in the morning.” I inhale the scent coming from her hair. I can’t place it, but it smells fruity. I like it. “Maybe,” I add.

  “What if I really want to leave now?”

  “If you really do want to go, I’ll wake Brooklyn and I’ll take you home. But I don’t believe for a second that’s what you want to do.”

  “What I want to do is beat Kennedy’s ass. You’re lucky you hadn’t told me earlier tonight. I would have laid that bitch out.” There’s something in her voice, beyond her anger, that warms me. It pissed Sienna off when she learned where Kennedy took Brooklyn. She cares about my daughter, and that does something. It affects me in a way I’m not sure I understand. Or maybe I refuse to recognize the feeling it gives me.