Ruthless Princess (Mafia Royals) Read online

  “Swell.” I sashayed toward him, then did a small circle around him, he was at least two hundred pounds of pure American beef. He had a nice smile, sandy brown hair, and I was one hundred percent convinced he’d grow up to be an accountant.

  And not the cool ones that burn the books for you and help you hide money but the really shitty ones who looked forward to pot roast on a Tuesday the way I looked forward to a manicure.

  “All right, Zac, you know the rules,” I said in a low voice. “Not a sound.”

  I held out my hand, and Junior handed me the wooden bat. More and more students filed around us, along with a few faculty members drinking their coffee; one yawned.

  Eagle Elite, ladies and gentlemen, it would be comical if it didn’t steal our souls, wouldn’t it?

  But that’s what the parents wanted. Make us hurt, make us suffer, make us understand, so that if the time ever came where we had to choose between ourselves and our family—we chose family every time.

  Bred into our bones, the idea that blood trumps self.

  I raised the bat and slammed it across his right arm, he winced but didn’t say anything. I threw it in the air, caught it with my other hand, and hit him right in the left kneecap.

  Zac squeezed his eyes closed; his lips were trembling.

  “Who are we?” I asked in a sweet voice that sounded fake even to my own ears. I was a lot of things—sweet was not one of them.

  “The Elect.” His pain-filled voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

  I tossed the bat to Ash, who wasted no time in slamming it into Zac’s back, causing him to stumble forward. “Do not touch The Elect.” He gave Zac a shove then held out the bat to Izzy.

  She took it and hit Zac in the right shin. “Do not look at The Elect.”

  Junior was last. I ignored the way his swagger made my stomach flop. Damn Zac wasn’t the only one who’d lived in a gym this summer… he’d put on at least fifteen pounds of muscle. His tatted fingers gripped the bat. With an evil grin, one I felt all the way to my toes, the bat went soaring right into Zac’s stomach, he doubled over and spat out blood, and Junior leaned over him and said in a lethal voice. “Do not speak to The Elect.”

  Claire watched, her expression stoic.

  Junior dropped the bat and crossed his arms. “Any questions?”

  No student said anything.

  “Good.” Junior smiled. “Let’s get out there and have a really safe and fun year!”

  The sarcasm alone made me want to burst out laughing even though I wanted to drown him half the time.

  Ash looked away.

  “You heard the man,” Ash barked. “Go!”

  And off they went, with their rich parents and perfect lives. They’d graduate to the most powerful positions in the world—and they’d remember this moment in their nightmares.

  Zac wobbled and then stood. “Thank you.”

  Yes, he was thanking us, because if someone volunteered at the beginning of the year, that person and any friends weren’t just given a free pass to talk with us—they were allowed to hang with The Elect, party with us. That person just had to go through the pain in order to get there. I was glad it was Zac since we actually tolerated him and his friends.

  “Welcome.” I blew him a kiss and then tilted my head. “No girlfriend this year?”

  His eyes heated. “Not yet.” He licked his lips. “New skirt?”

  “Go.” Junior shoved him. “You have class.”

  “I do?” Zac looked confused.

  “Yeah, you do.” Junior rolled his eyes, then pulled out his knife.

  “All right, all right!” Zac held up his hands. “Hell, you guys are crazy.”

  I lunged for him.

  “Shit, man, don’t call her crazy,” Junior mumbled under his breath while Ash held me back.

  “Didn’t you almost lose a testicle last time?” Izzy asked Junior.

  Zac must have gotten the picture because he turned and ran.

  “You’re welcome!” Ash called and then released me.

  I stumbled forward, nearly colliding with Junior. He steadied me.

  Our eyes locked.

  Damn that man’s eyes.

  Teal… who had teal eyes?

  I hated that the only times he touched me now were to push me away when it used to be to pull me close.

  I hated what we’d been forced to become.

  Hated it.

  “You’ve got mascara—right here,” He flicked my chin.

  I licked my middle finger and wiped off the makeup earning a grin from him before he sobered and looked away.

  Ash and Claire were a few feet from us talking with Izzy.

  It was rare for me and Junior to be standing next to one another without shouting, pulling weapons. Was this new school year going to be a cease-fire?

  “One day… I’m going to kill you.” He said it like a promise.

  And I answered in truth. “You can’t kill what’s already dead.”

  For a brief moment, I felt his fingertips graze mine.

  And then he pulled back.

  I exhaled and reminded myself that the sting of tears meant I was still alive, still breathing, still making my family proud, mainly my dad.

  I looked around the fancy brick buildings and sighed. “Welcome to Hell.”

  Chapter Two

  Junior

  I would take it to my grave.

  The wrongs done against her mom.

  The things my father said he did in the name of blood—De Lange blood. The name wasn’t spoken out loud—ever. And the last time that it was, the person was found not long after with a slit throat.

  The thing about the Cosa Nostra… we always have enemies; I just never thought the very Family that used to be a part of the five would be the ones to try to destroy us.

  The De Langes tried to do it from within, but according to my dad, they failed, and hits were put out for every last one of them. He and a few of the guys went out, and the rest is history.

  The only problem with history?

  It quite often repeated itself.

  And it was only a matter of time before that happened.

  Because they were here.

  At this school.

  In our city.

  The kids that were left alive.

  When the mafia does a cleansing of a line, they’re supposed to kill every last soul, but instead, our fathers—the bosses—offered mercy.

  And now, the kids had to pay for the fathers’ sins.

  They had gone soft; they refused to kill innocent children, which would have been great, respectable even, but where did that leave us?

  Here.

  Our lives completely derailed because of them—and now I was paying for it along with my cousins.

  I clenched my fists at my side.

  It was never supposed to go down like this. We were never supposed to step into the picture until after college graduation.

  Until after we got the partying and freedom out of our systems.

  After swearing fealty at such a young age, we thought hey at least we have some freedom for a while—but the arrival of that white horse meant calling all of the kids back home. And no matter how many times I asked my dad why the second arrival of the cryptic message was enough for him to call us home, he simply shook his head and said because.

  Right, as if that didn’t burn like hell.

  Because?

  We were teenagers.

  Teenagers with plans.

  Girlfriends.

  Feelings.

  And now all I felt was pain.

  And most of it was because of her.

  We walked side by side toward class. I looked down at my schedule and cursed. Why the hell was I in a junior-level history class?

  Students gave us a wide berth as the five of us made our way down the narrow hall.

  Me in front with Serena.

  Ash in the middle with Claire.

  And Izzy in the back.

  I stopp
ed in front of the classroom and barely kept my groan in when Serena did the same.

  Not. Happening.

  I could feel her hatred dripping off her like an expensive perfume. Her head snapped in my direction. “Must you stalk me?”

  I sneered down at her. “Must you want me so much?”

  Hurt flashed across her face before she recovered. She had never been good at hiding anything from me, least of all, her emotions, and in the end, her heart.

  Mine. It had all been mine.

  Until we were both forced to choose.

  And choosing her—would have killed us all.

  She had to know that.

  She had to know what her dad would do to me, to us.

  She had to know that my dad would have no choice.

  That I would take those seven steps, and this time, it wouldn’t be an option.

  I shoved past her and found a seat in the back, and by the time class started, she had recovered back to her bored resting bitch face and was furiously texting someone—probably Izzy— to tell her what a horrible human being I was.

  Get in line, princess. Get in fucking line.

  “Welcome to day one!” Professor Dick Face’s eyes roamed around the room, purposefully scanning over us even though I had a middle finger raised in greeting right along with Serena. Well, at least we could agree on something, pissing off the professors enough to scare them shitless. “If you’ll all log onto your blackboard app, we can go over this year’s syllabus.”

  “Overjoyed,” I said under my breath.

  “Do you mind?” Serena hissed. “I’m learning here.”

  She literally had Snapchat open.

  “Uh-huh.” I elbowed her side only to feel the steel of a knife against my dick.

  I kept my smirk in and lost when we both locked eyes.

  Shit, I knew that look.

  And I knew what typically followed.

  The best sex of my life.

  “No,” I whispered hoarsely, even though I let my eyes freely roam over her tight leather skirt down to gorgeous legs that I wanted to lick my way up. “Hell no.”

  I jerked in my seat and nearly impaled myself on her knife when her hand slid across the front of my jeans.

  I gritted my teeth to keep from reacting, braced my hands on the table in front of me, and shook my head slowly as she kept touching, and I kept just responding. Because it was Serena, and eons ago before she fucking broke my heart—she was mine.

  “Choose me,” I’d said in my head. “Choose me in front of them all!”

  She didn’t.

  She never would.

  Our love was impossible.

  And I knew more than her—how easy love could start a war.

  She still wasn’t pulling her hand away, so I took matters into my own hands, and scooted my chair back, then slid my fingers up her thigh, digging into her skin the entire way up until I felt the string of her thong.

  With a jerk, I tugged it until it broke, bunched her underwear in my hands, and then very somberly shoved them into my pocket all without looking away from my handy app.

  “Give those back,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Better not draw attention to us,” I said in a bored tone. “Wouldn’t want you to get detention on the first day—again.”

  “That was voluntary, and you know it!” she hissed.

  I chuckled under my breath. “Whatever you say.”

  “Junior, I mean it! I can’t walk around like this!”

  “You can.” I shrugged. “You will.”

  “Junior—”

  “Just admit defeat. You tried to win, and instead, you just lost—embarrassingly. It’s going to take more than your hand to get me off, or do you forget?” Then I did turn toward her. “I’d rather drink poison than have you touch me ever again.”

  Something sharp jabbed into my thigh. I winced and squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them and looked down.

  And there was her knife, stuck in my thigh through my jeans, embedded at least a half-inch.

  Perfect.

  I nodded slowly. “Is that the Abandonato crest?”

  “Beautiful, right?” She beamed then flipped her dyed golden hair in the air giving me a whiff of her cherry shampoo.

  I jerked out the knife and handed it back to her. “Don’t be creepy and lick the blood off—that’s weird, even for you.”

  She just rolled her eyes. “More like use it in a spell to make your favorite appendage fall off.”

  “Your favorite appendage,” I grumbled. “Remember? Oh God Junior, right there, so good, it’s so—”

  She clapped a hand over my mouth while a few students in front of us chuckled. “I get it, just. Stop. Talking.”

  I nipped her hand with my teeth and grinned.

  She smiled and looked away, down at her phone. “It shouldn’t be like this.”

  “I’ll hate you for as long as we both shall live,” I uttered the mantra we’d been repeating to each other for years.

  “Hate you,” she repeated in a soft voice. “For as long as we both shall live.”

  And so, the hurt continued.

  The pain followed swiftly, and I was suddenly grateful she’d stabbed me in the leg so I wouldn’t feel the daggers in my heart.

  Thank God for small favors.

  Chapter Three

  Serena

  I remember the first time I saw my dad cry. We were driving away from Uncle Chase’s house, I was small, like really small, and I remember him saying a bad word under his breath—it was the first time he’d cursed around me. I knew the word was bad because my mom made all the bosses, my uncles, put money in a swear jar every time it was said.

  Dad drove for another twenty minutes, then pulled off to the side of the road. Without looking, he reached back and squeezed my foot, and then he put the SUV in park and turned. “You’re never dating.”

  I giggled, what was dating anyway?

  He shook his head; his handsome face pale, as a tear fell from his cheek down his chin. “Serena, sweetheart, I can’t let you go, I don’t think I would survive it.”

  Ten years later, on my thirteenth birthday, he caught me kissing a boy from school behind the house, and the first thing he did was hold a gun to poor Dylan’s head and say, “You use tongue?”

  Dylan didn’t pee his pants, but he looked ready to as he shook his head vehemently and then whimpered.

  My dad lowered his weapon and growled, straight up growled, Dylan shrieked and ran off while I glared daggers at my father. “What was that for?”

  “You’re not dating.” He clenched his teeth. “And you sure as hell shouldn’t be luring victims behind the house and kissing them!”

  “Boys aren’t victims!” I yelled, stomping my foot.

  He took one look at me, wiped a hand down his face and muttered, “When it comes to you? They may as well be.” He shook his head. “Hell, you’re only thirteen, and they notice you, they all notice you.”

  “I like being noticed.”

  The gun pointed in my direction. I scowled. “The point of this life, of this Family, sweetheart, is to become noticed only after you’ve won.”

  “And how do I know if I’ve won?”

  “The other person will no longer be breathing.” He shrugged. “Don’t tell your mom about Dylan; she’ll grab her gun.”

  I sighed. “Mom’s not as terrifying as you.”

  He snorted out a laugh. “Yeah okay, don’t ever let her hear you say that, she’s turned into a bloodthirsty woman.”

  “Wonder whose fault that is.” I giggled as he pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head.

  My dad was my protector.

  He was my best friend.

  He was my hero.

  And I knew that every time I kissed Junior, I was betraying him, every time I touched Junior, wanted him—I was making small cuts with a knife into my dad’s heart.

  But I couldn’t stop.

  Not until I was forced to.
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  Not until Junior chose this life over me, over us, not until he stared at me while touching another girl and smiled.

  I hated him beyond all reason.

  “Class dismissed,” our professor suddenly said.

  I’d been daydreaming that entire time.

  Fantastic.

  Junior shoved back his chair and gave me an annoyed look. “You gonna stare into space all day?”

  “You gonna annoy me all day?” I snapped in a sing-song voice.

  “Probably.” His full lips drew up into a smirk that had every single memory of his mouth on my body coming back full force. “Feeling a bit of… air princess?”

  I ignored the way my bare skin felt against the tight leather skirt I was wearing and the way his eyes seemed to heat every single time they lingered on mine like he was waiting for me to snap and was willing to be on the receiving end of whatever that meant as long as he could torture me some more. That was Junior for you; he could make a person believe they were getting nothing but pleasure when he was doing nothing but offering pain. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Let’s go.”

  “Whatever you say, princess,” he muttered, following behind me—because it was his job to protect me.

  Protect me at all costs.

  But nobody ever warned me that the very man who destroyed me was the one man who was supposed to protect me.

  And sometimes I was afraid I wouldn’t ever be able to fix what he broke.

  Not with him so close.

  And yet so far away.

  I kept my head held high as I walked down the hall toward the doors. And without even asking, two football players winked in my direction and opened them wide for me to step through.

  “Such gentlemen.” I winked.

  “Always.” Xavier was deliciously gorgeous, with firm muscles in all the right places, perfect mocha skin, and a jawline to die for.

  I was about to say something, maybe suggest we should hang out this weekend, when Junior cleared his throat behind me.

  “Care to be annoying elsewhere?” I seethed without turning around.

  “No. Not really,” he said with a careless air. “Hey, Xavier, how’s the leg healing up?

  Xavier shrugged. “Pretty good, coach says I should still start this weekend.”

  “It would be a shame then, wouldn’t it?” Junior moved past me and started circling Xavier while his friend Penn held up his hands like he wanted nothing to do with us.