The Mafia Queen's Husband

Prologue

Eva

I tap my fingers on the mahogany table of the restaurant and check the time. 9:13 am. He's late. That is, he will be late if he shows up. I have a feeling he is too intrigued not too show up. He may have acted cool and collected, but I have a knack for picking up on people's emotions- no matter how well hidden. A trait that is very useful in my line of work. Iz, my cousin and right hand, always jokes I would have been a great therapist in another life.

Normally, I would have been out the door thirteen minutes ago. But this situation is different. Giovanni Ricci is the king of America. While I am the queen of Russia. He doesn't realize I have come to kick him from his high and mighty throne. He is too conceited to even consider there might be someone more powerful than him.

I resist the urge to check the time again.

Nervousness is a sign of weakness.

I can practically hear my father's remark, and abruptly, still my fingers on the table, refusing to show any nerves even to myself.

The restaurant doors swing open and I watch as the capobanda himself walks through with four guards, two in front of him and two behind. His dark eyes find mine, immediately, and he holds the eye contact while striding toward my table in the private section. I almost laugh. If he thinks these cheap intimidation tactics work on me, he's in for a big surprise.

I point my hand to the chair across from me and smile at him. I can see he's irritated by my lack of respect toward him. I can imagine he's gotten used to the ass kissing. I don't kiss ass though, unless it is a submissive boy begging for it.

"I'm glad you managed to show up, Mr. Ricci." I take a drag from my cigarette and exhale. "I imagined a gentleman like yourself would be more diligent about showing up on time, but I guess I built you up in my head, huh?"

He doesn't react.

"I had more pressing matters than a little girl trying to catch the adults' attention."

I laugh in delight. These old men just make themselves easy bait with their sexist bullshit. I lean forward and expose more of my cleavage, but his eyes doesn't stray. He may be an old sexist pig, but he is a smart old sexist pig.

"While it is always flattering to be called young," I turn the laptop in front of me to him and press play. "I am afraid this situation is a little more extreme than just my attention seeking behavior."

"What is this?" He asks with narrowed eyes.

"Do you need glasses?" I bat my lashes innocently when he glares at me with a clenched jaw.

I'm getting under his skin.

He continues watching, and I have to contain my urge to rub my hands together like a true Disney villain when his face pales as he recognizes the video.

"W-Wha..." His breathing picks up, as his face flushes in anger a second before he smashes the laptop to the ground. His guards reach for their guns but wait for his instructions while the staff's concerned gaze watch our table for any sign of trouble. "Y-You bitch! Where did you get this footage?"

"That is not really the important question, right now, is it, Mr. Ricci?" I tilt my head. "The more important question would be, what I plan to do with this piece of treasure I have found."

His fist suddenly slams the table with a loud smack, but I don't flinch. Anyone else would probably be running for the hills at the look on his face when he locks eyes with me. "What game are you playing, little girl?"

"I do love games." I try not to laugh as his face flushes in anger. 

"You realize I could kill you right here, right now, and no one would ever even find your body, right?" His eyes fleet to my empty sides, where the lack of my bodyguards are showing.