Hunted By The Mafia Prince

Prologue

Emma’s POV:

Another day, another moment spent chasing after a naked child.

Miles laughs as he maneuvers through the couches, his small body allowing him to move much more swiftly than me. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of Spiderman underwear and a goofy smile.

“You need to put clothes on,” I say for the umpteenth time.

“Miss Hellen said we live in a free country!”

I am going to kill Miss Hellen.

The front door is thrown open unceremoniously, causing both Miles and I to pause in our cat-and-mouse chase, looking up at the intruder. It’s Gianna, and she’s cradling dozens of envelopes in her arms, frowning down at them.

“Jesus,” she says, “do you ever get your own damn mail?” Then her eyes land on Miles, and she lets out a shriek. The envelopes fall to the carpeted floor.

“Have some decency!” She yells at my son.

Milena walks around her and pokes Gianna’s revealed stomach. “Look who’s talking.”

Gianna scoffs, and despite her indignant complaints, she comes and helps me convince Miles to get dressed.

“Trust me,” she tells him. “You wanna leave a little something to the imagination. Let them work for it. Don’t give them a full strip-tease for free.”

Miles peers up at me in confusion. “What’s a strip-tease?”

I glare at Gianna, then look back at Miles and say, “That’s a naughty word. Don’t say it anymore, okay?”

“But GG said it,” he protests.

“Yeah, well, GG’s a naughty girl sometimes. That’s why you’re getting ice cream, and she’s not.”

Her eyes widen comically. “I don’t get ice cream? Emma, that is so mean.”

Miles frowns. “Mama, don’t be mean.”

Gianna smirks at me, and I resist the urge to commit murder in front of my child. I finish stuffing Miles’s head through his T-shirt, then I guide him over to the couch so he can watch TV. Gianna throws herself onto the cushions beside him like she owns the place.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Milena inquires, picking my mail off the floor.

“Alex’s at the park throwing a frisbee around with Liliana. They should be back soon.”

“Why didn’t you go with your sister?” She asks Miles.

He shrugs his shoulders, and when Milena looks at me, I do the same.

“It’s a dumb sport,” Gianna complains. “The frisbee always curves in a different direction than where it’s supposed to go.” She winks at Miles, who smiles back at her sweetly, his dimples making an appearance.

“That’s just because you don’t throw it right,” Milena argues.

“See? They’re even picky about how you throw it. Too many details.”

I roll my eyes at her and walk over to take my mail. I take a seat at the kitchen counter and start rummaging through the papers. Milena sits beside me and goes through them as well.

Bills, bills, bills.

So many goddamn bills.

I thought life after college would mean less stressing over finances.

Heads up, I thought wrong.

Now I have to worry about student loans from law school, bills for the house, money for the twins’ school, and Miles’s hospital bills…

As always, my chest tightens a little at that last thought. I glance over at where my son’s sitting beside Gianna, laughing at the TV. He’s so little his feet don’t reach the floor. Someone that little shouldn’t have to be dragged in and out of hospitals. He shouldn’t have to suffer through dialysis and the pain of kidney problems.

Miles looks over at me suddenly, like he senses my gaze on him. He offers me a small wave, so I wave back, forcing a smile on my face. Even though he’s only six-years-old, Miles is pretty perceptive. He can easily tell when someone’s upset, and more often than not he’ll try to comfort them.

Such a sweet boy.

A surge of fondness overwhelms me, and I’m about to run over there and attack him with cuddles, but I pause when I hear Milena give a strangled gasp. She’s staring at a fancy-looking envelope with gold detail. It looks like an invitation card of sorts. I tilt my head to get a better look at it.

My stomach drops.

The name in the top left corner is one I haven’t seen or heard from in a long, long time. I snatch the letter out of Milena’s hands with trembling fingers. I tear it open, hardly breathing. Vaguely, I hear Gianna drift towards us, no doubt drawn by the sudden tension.

Looking at the card over my shoulder, she reads it aloud. “You are cordially invited to the wedding of Arianna Dellucci and Lucas Suarez…”

The words are written in beautiful calligraphy, and beneath them, there are details of the time and place of the wedding. I literally have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

“This has got to be a mistake,” Milena whispers.

Gianna snorts. “Knowing Aria, she probably took it upon herself to invite Emma. That girl is too sweet for this world, I swear.”

Milena scoffs. “She’d have to be crazy to do that. I mean, no offense, but you did betray her brother and get her fiancé locked up for years.”

She’s right.

“It could be a mistake,” I murmur, “or it could be a trap. Either way, one thing’s for sure.” I glance at them both. “I’m going.”

Gianna arches a brow at me. “I think you mean we’re going.”

I shake my head. “I won’t ask you two to put your lives in danger for me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to ask,” Milena says, uncharacteristically firm. “We have each other’s backs, remember? And besides, we can’t just stay back and let you have all the glory. If you’re gonna get killed at a wedding, we should be part of the fun.”

“I’ll have to buy us new dresses,” Gianna adds. “Might as well go out in style.”

I bury my face in my hands. “You girls are insane.”

“Love you, too, Emma.”

***

The drive to the wedding is tense, to say the least. We’re all dolled up in pretty dresses and makeup, but we don’t feel half as good as we look. Gianna’s driving, and I’m in the passenger seat, fumbling with the radio to distract myself from the flurry of doubts in my mind.

Milena chews her thumb nervously. “I still think you should’ve told Alex.”

I sigh.

We’ve been over this like ten times already.

“I didn’t want to lie to him,” I remind her. “But Alex has a tendency to do stupid, impulsive things when he’s scared. Especially if the Delluccis are involved.”

Gianna shoots me a sideways glance. “Damn, girl. Stupid and impulsive, huh? Might wanna leave that out of the Valentine’s Day card.”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s see if we make it through the night, then we can talk about Valentine’s Day.”

I’m giving sass and acting like I’m irritated, but really, I’m a whole mess of nerves on the inside. I haven’t been this terrified since that day I testified against the people I once called my friends. The same people I’m about to see again.

God.

It would take a miracle to get us out of there alive.

The most important thing is to not get killed before I can talk to him. Odds are, there’s a price on my head among these people, and they’ve always been the type to shoot first, ask questions later.

But I can’t let that happen.

My son’s life depends on it.

I remind myself of that fact as Gianna brings the car to a slow stop. For a moment, the three of us sit there, absorbing what is quite possibly the last calm moment of our lives. I think it’s fitting that this confrontation is happening at a wedding.

All our lives are about to change. For better or for worse.

“It’s showtime, ladies,” I murmur.

Gianna shoots me a wink, and Milena takes a deep breath. We file out of the car, careful not to upset our long skirts, and begin our march through the entrance. The pathway is littered with lilac flower petals that tear and crumple beneath our heels.

It’s sad to see such beauty go to waste.

The wedding’s location is the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. It’s always a beautiful place, but it’s even more so tonight, with all the decorations and shimmering lights. There are rectangular pools surrounded by stone ledges that have glowing lanterns on them. Their dim flames are reflected in the black pool water.

Staying close to one another, we follow the sound of chatter and laughter until we arrive at a clearing. We hide behind a tree with thick ribbons wrapped around its trunk, and we observe the sight before us.

There are white tables and chairs stationed all around, and every single one of them is filled with people. Near the center of the large space, there’s a table that’s set up a bit differently from the rest, and that’s where Lucas and Aria are sitting.

I take a moment to appreciate how beautiful Aria is. Her wedding dress is hidden beneath the table, but from what I can see of the top and the veil, she looks like a princess. She’s radiant with joy.

My eyes slide to Lucas. He’s wearing a black suit that contrasts his fair hair, and I notice a scar on his neck that hadn’t been there before. It moves horizontally across his skin, like someone had tried slitting his throat.

I feel Milena shudder beside me, and I wonder if she notices it, too. When I look at her, though, I find her gaze fixed on another man.

Theo.

He’s standing up, and he’s tapping his wine glass until the people around him follow his lead. Within minutes, everyone present is doing it, and they all fall into an expectant silence. He offers the guests a lazy smirk, and he pulls out his notecards to read off of them.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Theodore Wright, one of Luca’s brothers. For those of you who do know me, count your blessings, my loves.”

People chuckle and Theo pauses until the laughter fades.

“So what can I say about Luca? Well, he’s handsome, funny, intelligent, and…” He squints at his notecards. “Sorry, Luca, I can’t read your handwriting. Maybe you can tell me the rest later.”

Luca shouts something at him in Italian that sounds like a swear word, and Theo winks. He shoves the note cards back into his trousers.

“Moving onto our lovely bride,” he continues. “Oh my, do you look lovely tonight. I’ve never seen white look so good on anyone.”

He looks around at the guests, making eye contact with a few people. “I’m sure everybody who knows Aria can agree with me that she deserves a good man. The best, even. Unfortunately, Luca got to her before she could find one.”

There’s more laughter from the invitees, and the speech goes on for a few more minutes.

Gianna elbows me in the ribs. “What are we waiting for?” She whisper-shouts. “We’re gonna get caught.”

I hold a finger to my lips to silence her.

I don’t want us to just barge in and make a scene. I want this to be as smooth and contained as possible, so we’ll wait until we get the right opportunity.

Of course, things hardly ever go the way I want them to.

At one point in the evening, some guy decides he doesn’t want to make the trip to the restroom. Instead, he seeks out the shelter of a nearby tree, which is not only disgusting, but also puts us into perfect view for him.

The dude pauses with his p***s in his hand.

I see the moment that he recognizes me. After all, my face had been splattered all over newspapers and televisions during the trial.

Milena lets out a frightened squeak, and even before the man starts yelling, the three of us know the hiding is over.

It’s time to face them.

I step out from behind the tree before anyone can drag me out. Gianna and Milena follow my lead. We walk past the outraged men, the indignant women, and we ignore the shouts of protest and the sounds of weapons being drawn.

When I reach him, my feet come to a halt of their own accord. He’s sitting at the same table as Theo, but he had his back to me the entire ceremony. Now, he faces me. He rises to his feet, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him.

Matteo Dellucci.