WHATDOESITMEAN to be a mafia princess?
Fuck all.
At least not to me. I assume others might enjoy bending a knee to their chosen chauvinistic asshat of an arranged husband. I like to think I have more going for me than lying on my back and popping out a few kids to carry on the legacies of corrupt men.
Fighting is all I know. Fighting to prove myself worthy of the throne, the family denies me. What’s it like to be a woman in a male-dominated world, you ask?
I live my life being underestimated, undermined, and shrugged off. Nothing pisses me off more than someone defining who I am because of what is or isn’t between
my legs.
I’m Malia Olin, the firstborn to The Olin Empire, a mafia that migrated from the UK two generations ago. That makes me the rightful heiress to the leadership. Or it would, if not for the outdated rules of my family’s business.
So how do I deal with the anger?
If I’m not torturing someone to release my rage, I’m assaulting a punching bag in the gym. It’s the punching bag today. I’m lost in my zone when a pair of hands grab my waist from behind. First instinct—enemy, put him down. I swing around, driving my fist into the face of a six-foot-six man-child I know all too well.
Breckin Reynolds, a friend with benefits, is my brother Donovan’s right-hand man in training—the unfortunate soul has fallen in love with me, which I continue to use for sex as his hopes continue to grow.
Do I feel shame for it? No. I’m the one benefiting from this deal we have. His heart isn’t my problem, and I’ve been clear about my intentions from day one. He might be obsessive, but he’s excellent in bed. That’s enough to bear the cons that come with sleeping with him.
“You deserved that.”
“Ow,” he huffs out, holding his nose, checking to see if it’s bleeding, and it is.
He watches me, studying my body language, something he likes to believe he can do to read me, before shoving his fingers through his dark brown hair.
“What’s wrong?” He inquires, eyeing me up and down, trying to find a tell.
“Nothing,” I retort as I spin around and continue venting out my frustration.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Pulled away from my task once again, I find my annoyance ratcheting up even more. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I put a bullet between his eyes to make my life a little easier.
“You should leave now,” I warn.
Before I can turn my back on him again, Breckin picks me up. His grip is rough on my thighs, and my back connects to the wall, leveling me at his height. His mouth quickly finds mine as I steady myself with my legs wrapped around his waist—another way to release tension… sex.
I claw at Breckin’s clothes, the urge to be closer to him growing. Then a familiar sound fills the air as my brother clears his throat behind us. Breckin quickly drops me to my feet as I’m snapped out of the moment.
“If you’re finished trying to suffocate my sister with your tongue. Dad needs her,” Donovan’s irritation is apparent in his stance.
My little brother—the man who would rather endure a life he doesn’t want because of birthright than disappoint our father.
“I’m busy,” I spit.
Donovan’s face hardens; he’s clearly fighting with himself about how he should handle me. His first mistake—hesitation.
“Malia, move, now!” He urges, the force in his tone startling even him.
“Reynolds, you can stay behind,” Donovan continues, quickly sobering from his outburst. Rage moves my feet before I realize what’s happening. I seem to have that problem—act first, ask questions later. It’s not until I see my brother topple forward, clutching his crotch, that I realize I just sent my black sneaker smashing between his legs.
“Never speak to me like that again,” I say as I walk out of the gym, leaving Donovan on his knees for Breckin to deal with.
The long walk to the other side of the mansion helps level out my anger before facing my father. He might have handed me the shit end of the stick, but I still respect him to the fullest. Donovan didn’t have to tell me where our dad is; he’s in one of two places—the armory, where we keep some stock for business or the office where he hides from my mother. The office is the more likely of the two.
Business deals take place at our warehouses or the docks. The only time we make arrangements in our home is when they involve families we have deep connections with.