Dark Mafia Prince: A Dangerous Royals romance Read Online Free PDF

Then gunfire sounds out.
    “Antique gun collection, I think,” Viktor says.
    I push her. “Go.”
    The princess looks up at her precious castle. Does that house represent a sunny, safe, beautiful life? Does trashing it change that? Does it change something inside her? “Can I keep…one thing?”
    I’m guessing jewelry. Something valuable. Shoes, maybe. There are rumors about her shoe collection. “Depends. Can it shoot bullets? Because, lenient as I am—”
    “It’s just a coffee mug. Nobody’ll care about it.”
    Another window breaks. Viktor’s guys’ll break a lot of the stuff, but they’ll be able to tell what’s good to sell. They’ve brought vans for the loot.
    “It’s easy to find. It’s just a chipped mug with a picture of a cat head. It’s in the lower kitchen cupboard. No—it’s out on the counter…”
    I motion to one of Viktor’s guys and send him ahead for the mug. “Mind the time.”
    I flash on the old Mira, all pigtails and grass stains. Champion of trapped bugs and bullied kids. Everything in the house and she picks a coffee mug.
    I snort. Like I think it’s stupid. Like it’s not a little bit of a knife in my abs when I think what I might have to do to save Kiro’s life.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Mira
    W e’re up at the drive in front of the house. I hate not having underwear on. It makes me feel vulnerable. Especially in this uncomfortable skirt suit. Not that I don’t have worse things to worry about.
    I plead repeatedly for news of my father, if only to know he’s still alive. My captor just texts.
    I can barely watch as thugs carry off the beautiful things my mother collected—the period chairs, the Warhols, the chinoiserie. I stifle a sob as I catch sight of my mother’s inlaid harp. Mom loved that harp. It’s like they’re taking the last little pieces of my mother from me.
    A crash from inside. They’re wrecking the place.
    “This is pointless.” When he doesn’t acknowledge me, I grab his wrist. “What does this get you? Come on!”
    He looks at my hand and then looks up at me. For a moment, I think he, too, senses that weird familiarity between us. As though we knew each other in a dream. He drops his phone in his pocket, and takes my wrists. “You need to stop focusing on your beautiful life in there and start praying that Daddy decides to come through.”
    “Ow,” I breathe.
    “Good. That’s you getting with the program. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get my brother back. Do I want to hurt you? No. I don’t. Will I?”
    My heart races.
    “Will I?”
    “I get it,” I whisper.
    His grip is too tight, his gaze too intense, like he sees everything inside me. People rarely look too hard at me. When they look at me at all, they accept the version of me I serve up to them. The shopaholic mafia princess. The dedicated, lawyer in glasses.
    “Dad’s innocent. He’d tell you if he knew anything else.”
    “Wrong, Kitten. Dad’s playing the odds.”
    “Don’t call me that.”
    A ping sounds. He lets me go and pulls his phone out of his pocket. A twenty-first-century general waging battle.
    Whatever the person on the other ends has texted him, it troubles him.
    That’s my chance—I take off running, tearing for the trees and the main road.
    I get maybe ten feet before guys seem to materialize around me, taking me by the shoulders. I twist and fight. They lift me right off the ground, carrying me back.
    The strangely familiar intruder is still on the phone, eyeing me with that intensity, watching me struggle. A model between photo shoots if you didn’t know any better.
    They put me back in front of him. He lowers the phone and addresses me quietly. “Do it. Go ahead, Mimi, do it again. See what happens.”
    Mimi.
    He blinks, waiting. “Do it, go for it.”
    Mimi . Only one person ever called me Mimi—Aleksio Dragusha. My childhood friend. But Aleksio and his family were slaughtered by a rival clan back when we were kids. I was wild with grief. They had to