Deception & Desire (The Prince’s Guild #3)

1. Mia

1

MIA

I t’s a bad day.

That much I managed to decide by lunch, when the bodega I usually hit up was inexplicably closed, and I was forced to run back to the Candelabra to make it back in time for my shift.

In hindsight, nobody would have been able to discipline me for being late. With Cas still on maternity leave, I was running the place single-handedly. But it was the principle, considering how often I had to chew out Danny for showing up only minutes before her set.

The blonde bombshell in question is currently finishing up her song, studiously ignoring the leering group of men who’d managed to snag the VIP table below the stage.

“You think we should intervene?” Terry murmurs as he nods toward our esteemed guests.

I take the glass he’s finished polishing and place it on its designated shelf behind the bar. “Danny’s a big girl. She can handle it.”

“They’ve been drinking Absinthe all night,” he says as he polishes up the next glass.

It’s almost second nature by now, breaking down the bar like this as soon as the clock says it’s four a.m. Danny usually closes out the show, so we have the process down to a fine art, jumping into action as soon as she hits the second verse of her penultimate song.

“Cut them off,” I instruct needlessly. Terry has been here almost as long as I have. “And let's keep the VIP table reserved from now on. The boss is sure to show up one of these days anyway.”

Terry snorts. “Which one?”

It was a good question. Ownership of the Candelabra has shifted hands so frequently in the last couple of years that it was sometimes hard to remember where half our protocols even came from.

It was a frustrating side effect of the place being owned by the Italian mafia.

Not that Terry knew that officially, but by now, I’m fairly certain he suspects. Especially now that the current don is an old, personal…acquaintance of mine.

Okay, scratch that—childhood enemy, teenage rival, and adult…well, we’re civil now. Teo Vitale wasn’t so bad now that he was a father, though I didn’t particularly care for his new wife.

Not that I’d seen or spoken to them in months. Nor anyone else in the Guild, for that matter. Aside from my father, of course, who likes to call me twice a week like the needy asshole he is. I swear he’s getting clingier in his old age.

All in all, it’s exactly how I prefer things. The less I know about the Guild and the failing alliance it’s trying to form with the Prince’s Hand, the better.

Not that I know that officially, either.

“One of them just tried to snatch at Danny’s leg.” Terry’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and my eyes snap to the stage.

Sure enough, one of the bastards is half-strewn across the stage, laughing maniacally as Danny makes a hasty retreat.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Yeah. This has been a really bad day.

“ALRIGHT!” I yell as I vault over the bar. “SHOWS OVER FOLKS!”

I don’t need to check if Terry has my back as I march straight over to the VIP table. Luckily, most of the occupants are too inebriated to stop me as I grab the guy on the stage by the back of the shirt and drag him off.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, pal, but there’s a $5,000 fine for attempting to touch the merchandise,” I inform him as soon as his bleary eyes meet mine.

He’s barely able to hold himself up. “Well, hey there, gorgeous. You come here often?”

I let him slink to the floor in disgust and turn to his companions. “Who’s going to settle this guy’s bill?”

A hand touches my back, and I react based on instinct. Terry knows better than to do something with my back turned, so I feel no remorse as I spin and throw my potential attacker to the floor.

The man looks up at me—another one of the drunken idiots—from beneath the boot pressed to his throat.

“You can’t treat us like this!” he garbles. “We’re personal friends of the boss. I want to see the manager!”

I laugh as I crouch down to get up in his face. A stray chunk of red hair falls from my bun into my peripheral vision.

“I am the fucking manager,” I snarl at him. “Now pay up before I tell Mr. Vitale exactly who’s been throwing his name around so carelessly.”

This, out of everything I’ve done to him, makes him pale. Of course, it does.

Things wrap up pretty quickly after that. Terry takes the payment and flags down a couple of bouncers to escort them out.

“I can close from here, Mia. Get yourself home early,” Terry throws over his shoulder as he returns to the bar.

“I’m fine.”

“You can cover me next time.”

I roll my eyes at him but don’t bother arguing. It’s been a bad day, and I’m sure my mood makes me irritating company, so I don’t really blame him.

“I have a day off tomorrow, but I’ll see you later,” I say as I make my way into the back.

My bag and jacket are hanging where I left them after my trip to the closed bodega, and I shove them both on quickly. My hand grazes the phone in the pocket, and I absently check the notifications.

Thirteen missed calls from: Cassandra Moretti.

I sigh, lock my phone again, and head toward the back door—a very bad day.

This happens every week or so. I’ve known Cas since we were kids so it’s not surprising she’s taking my absence so badly. But it’s not like I’m hiding from her. She knows where I work.

I just…need to lay low for a while.

I’d warned her to stay away from the Guild, but she got involved anyway. Married into it actually. Which is fine; she’s an adult. Bully for her, I guess, falling in love like that.

But my best friend didn’t have to grow up with the threat of the mafioso hanging over her like I did. She didn’t have to train herself for the eventuality that one day, someone might say the wrong thing and get your entire family killed.

The only reason I stuck around in the first place was to protect my dad. But now…

“If I don’t give you a position in the Guild, people are going to think you’re a liability.”

“How much time do I have?”

“A week, maybe.”

My last conversation with the Guild’s don, Teo Vitale, happened months ago. And living on borrowed time is utterly exhausting.

I pass Danny on my way out, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between her fingers. She gives me a nod when she registers me before her eyes glaze over again.

Yeah. No one wants to live under the Guild’s thumb.

I collapse into bed the second I enter my tiny studio apartment tucked away in the corner of Brighton Beach. It’s just far enough away from the tourist rabble to make my commute to work bearable.

It takes me a minute to realize there’s something hanging from my closet door that wasn’t there before.

I blink, then blink again. Nope, still there.

The sequined, floor-length, rose-gold dress accompanied by matching red-heeled shoes still very much exists within my mess of an apartment—throwing light around the room like a ludicrously expensive disco ball.

There’s only one person with both the finances and the means of entry to have delivered this. My suspicions are confirmed when my eyes snag on the note attached to the hanger.

Dinner, 7:30 PM.

I groan. There’s an address scrawled on the back, and it doesn’t look like it’s anywhere in the same realm as my beloved bodega.

Trust my father to force me to come to some fancy ass restaurant on my one day off.

But that’s a problem for future Mia Chiavari. Right now, my only priority is to sleep off this stupidly awful day and pray that whatever karma has decided to make my life so hellish has blown over by the time I wake up again.

“You look incredible, honey,” Marco Chiavari greets me on the stairs leading up to the hotel.

It’s been a while since I’ve had to wear heels like this, so I find myself staggering slightly as I greet my father.

He’s dressed quite handsomely himself, not that I’d ever admit it to his face. The old codger has more pride than a pack of lions, and it has become my sworn duty as his only daughter to keep him humble.

“We couldn’t have just stayed in and gotten take out?” I grumble as I kiss him on both cheeks.

“This is important, Mia.”

I pull away from his embrace in response to his tone, finally registering the guarded look in his eyes. “What is it?”

“I just love you. Very much.”

A chill runs down my spine.

He’s never said that to me, not as an adult. Not in so many words. He’s the kind of man who’d rather send an envelope of unmarked bills to my apartment when I’m low on rent than have a genuine conversation about emotions.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

I grab his hand. “ Papà. What’s going on?”

He squeezes my hand back. “Come. I’ll explain when we’re inside.”

“Is this about the Guild?” I ask anyway as he leads us in. “Are you in danger? Do you need me to get you out?”

My father laughs humorlessly as he pushes through the doors, bypassing the main reception area altogether to beeline for a set of doors on the far side of the hall.

“You worry about me too much.”

“I feel like I worry about you an adequate amount, actually,” I snap back at him before glancing back over my shoulder. “I think the restaurant was back there.”

He ignores me and continues to pull me across the hall.

I dig my heels in and pull us to a stop. “Not another step until you give me something. Where are you taking me?”

“There’s a room set up in the back. It’s…more discreet.”

Something finally clicks.

“Who else is here?”

“Mia…”

“No,” I take a step back. “Tell me.”

“I can’t?—”

“Can’t or won’t? Because if this is another one of Teo’s fucking interventions to get me to join the Guild, I’m leaving right now.”

“Mia!” My father’s voice booms out loudly enough for several of the other guests to look our way. “You will take my hand, and you will follow me into that room, or else, I swear to God, I will drag you in there myself.”

I snort. “Good luck with that. We both know your back isn’t up to it.”

“This is not a game anymore.” Each word that leaves his mouth feels like ice slicing across my skin. “You know how precarious the situation is between the Guild and the Prince’s Hand right now.”

“Is this some kind of test?” I hiss back. “Because if it is, then I wouldn’t know a thing about any of that, would I?”

“We need this alliance?—”

“ We? I have nothing to do with this. ”

“Amos Rubio would disagree. You’re my daughter. ”

Something stirs within me at the mention of the Cartel’s kingpin—the man responsible for so many of my father’s gray hairs and the eternal thorn in the Guild’s side.

As much as I loathe having to admit it, my father has a point. If the Cartel targets Marco Chiavari, his entire family is at risk by association. And, from what I’ve gathered so far, an alliance with the Prince’s Hand is our best bet to ensure that never happens.

But the Guild’s Italian contemporaries from Manhattan have been feuding with them for years. So it’s no real surprise that negotiations aren’t going smoothly.

Despite the fact that Teo married the don’s sister.

“Give me one honest reason I should follow you into that room.” I glare at my father.

He matches my glare, our bright green eyes clashing.

“I will die if you don’t.”

Right. This all suddenly becomes very simple.

It’s almost alarming how quickly my body relaxes, how I slip my hand back into my father's and follow him to whatever awaits me behind those doors.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers before pushing them open.

The room is smaller than I expected, beautifully decorated and cast in flatteringly warm lighting courtesy of a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Chairs flank each side of the room, facing forward toward the far wall where…five sets of eyes turn to face us.

Three I recognize immediately, having known them for my whole life. There’s another person I don’t know at all, but I can guess from his dog collar why he’s here.

And then there’s the other person.

Yeah. I recognize him, too.

Tall and broad, looming in the center of the room with an expression of carefully crafted composure. His dirty blonde hair is pulled away from his face. It accentuates the tightness of his jaw—the only giveaway that he’d rather be anywhere else.

Had he loomed like this the last time I saw him? Had he gazed at me with those piercing brown eyes? He certainly hadn’t been wearing a suit that time, not one that hugged every curve of his muscles so tightly he might rip the seams if he flexed his muscles.

All I remember was that he was going to attack Teo. I’d acted on instinct, taking him down, the same way I’d done with that drunk bastard at the VIP table.

Now, he was standing before me—my final destination, apparently.

The don of the Prince’s Guild, Leon Natali.

This isn’t a dinner. It’s not even an intervention.

It’s a wedding.