XLIX | A Princess And Her Prince

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CASSIAN SEEMED TOO HANDSOME TO BE REAL.

When my grandfather, the Reaper, first introduced him to me, I had to do a doubletake. I recognized him―the Genovese from the Louvre who pointed a gun at me and gave me his number. It's still somewhere in my boot, but I don't need it; I memorized it long ago.

So seeing him again was a surprise.

At first, I was hesitant about doing business with the Genoveses. They had slaughtered the family of the girl I loved; they had shot at us; they had chased us around the world. But Nonno explained that they weren't our enemies.

In fact, he told me the real reason why they had killed Angel's parents was because the Falcones were lying and in huge debt that they owed. Of course, it didn't seem like much of an excuse, but after living with my grandfather for a year, I understand.

Business is business.

My friendship with Cassian was hesitant at first. I expected him to be an arrogant pretty-boy with a hot, nasty temper. I might have put him in a stereotype, but he clawed his way out of that. He showed me a different side of him, where he was sweet and kind. He held open doors for me and brought me flowers.

Maybe he wasn't Angel, but . . . I could love him too.

It's been maybe ten months since I met him. We weren't introduced until a couple of months after I arrived.

Cassian braids my hair while I rest on his bed. He has a photograph of us together on his desk, one where we shared a cone with eight scoops of gelato.

"Are you ready for tonight?" Cassian says, his nimble fingers twisting my hair.

I shrug and roll over, which ruins his attempt at styling my hair. He gives me a playful swat and opens his arms for me to cuddle in.

With my head nestled against his chest, I say, "I guess."

"Hm," he says nonchalantly. "Tonight's the night they reveal you. Ruby will be exposed."

I groan into his sweater. He smells like mint and salt.

"What's wrong, princess?" he says.

"What if . . . when I take over, what if they don't want me? What if they don't accept me? A female Mafia lord is . . ."

"It's unheard of," he says.

But he's wrong. Because Angel is a Mafia lord, and she's a fucking badass.

"But," he continues, "you won't be alone. I'll be by your side. Me and you―we'll be a team. An alliance."

Something else is hovering in the air . . . he won't say it, but I know. My grandfather and his father want us to be a couple―the ultimate power couple.

But Cassian has never said anything about that. Not to me, at least, and I appreciate it. I'm glad he's not forcing it on me. For now, we're just dating―no more commitment than that. I'm not ready for more.

"Good," I say, kissing the corner of his mouth.

As for sex . . . well, we haven't done it yet.

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