His Mafia Prince
Chapter 49: At My Home? No

Chapter 49: At My Home? No

(SASHA)

We get up and clean quickly. It baffles me why we are suddenly behaving like cave people. How everything escalated from the claiming and biting to this puzzles me. I’d like to think of myself as a decent person, but my behaviour is proving otherwise. There’s something else controlling me. And it isn’t logic.

I have to change my entire outfit because we got slick and semen on them. Once we have dressed, we hesitate before opening the bedroom door. Tyler chuckles naughtily, then I tick a hair off of his face. My chest feels tight at his gaze.

"Will you tell me why you were so angry earlier?" I ask him softly.

He shakes his head. "No."

I bite my jaw and then shrug. "You can’t hide it from me forever though. You know that, right? Either way, I’m going to find out."

He averts his gaze and then holds the doorknob. "Can we go now?"

"Yes." I know he is avoiding the question.

He turns the knob and the door opens then we let ourselves out. I walk behind him as we descend the stairs. From this vantage point, I can see everything clearly, even the guests whispering to each other as Tyler and I descend the stairs. If I’m being honest, I get a swell of pride when they steal glances at us like this. I love having Tyler beside me. I’ve always thought he was beautiful, but now he looks even more breathtaking.

Mother looks around until her gaze meets mine then I notice that she is annoyed. She approaches us. "Where have you two been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Everyone’s been asking."

"Tyler was helping me clean up my suit." I lie. "Something spilled on me."

Tyler clears his throat, avoiding Mother’s gaze.

"Come talk to the guests." She hisses. "You’re both being rude. Alessio Montenegro has been talking about setting up a new casino in town since you two disappeared, Sasha. He got permission from your father. Jericho and I have absolutely no idea of what he is talking about." She huffs frustratedly, shaking her head and walking away from us.

"Does this mean I have to mingle?" Tyler turns to me.

"You’ll be alright. You can stay by my side if you aren’t comfortable going off on your own."

He scowls at me. "I’m not a kid."

"No? But you seem nervous."

"I’m not nervous. I just don’t know what’s there to talk about with these men. We have nothing in common."

A smile tugs at my lips. What is happening to me? I’m supposed to tend to the men yet here I am wanting to touch him more. I want to make sure he feels safe and is not intimidated by any of these men. I want to protect him, comfort him. I tuck a strand of hair behind his ear again as an excuse when in fact, I just want to touch him.

"Get them talking about themselves. That way you’ll talk less." I say. "They like to talk about themselves."

He scoffs. "That’s probably workable." He glances at the crowd and my gut feeling tells me that he is looking for Angelo. A pang of jealousy wiggles through me. Why the fuck is he looking for Angelo? Is he suddenly obsessed with him or what?

"Stay by me, Tyler."

He narrows his eyes and then realizes he’s in a crowd. He fixes his face and then sighs. "I shouldn’t. I need to prove I can do this by myself. Tugging at your side will have me looking weak and pathetic." He gazes at the sea of people again. "Unless you want me to go back to the cam―"

"Tyler, don’t," I warn him sternly. "Don’t start that now."

He shrugs and continues to scan the crowd. I lean into him. ’Stop looking for him."

"Stop looking for who?" his eyes flicker.

"Angelo."

His cheeks flush. "I’m not looking for Angelo."

"Liar." I grit my teeth.

"You’re wrong, it’s not what you think." He’s lying through his teeth thinking I’m too dumb to notice.

"What is it then? Tell me."

He shakes his head. "I can’t."

"Ty―" A scuffle at the door gets my attention. When I look over, I see Miles wrestling a man from another syndicate. "Stay here. Don’t move." I tell Tyler then rush over to help Miles.

"Get youth filthy hands off me." The man yells.

"What’s happening here, Miles?" I ask, helping him to pin the rogue man. I trust Miles implicitly that if he advanced on this man, I know he must have a reason.

"He’s trying to bring a weapon inside." Miles grunts. It is then that I notice he has a scratch on the side of his cheek. "I already told him to lose the gun or stay out but he won’t listen to me."

A crowd begins to form around us. Half the Serpents syndicate and half the Triple Triads. Most of them are punching their palms as though they want to join. I do not want a turf war to break out. Not today and especially not at my house. That would be bad for business, let alone the height of disrespect considering we just buried my father today.

I glare at the burly Serpent hard. "We don’t allow weapons here. What part of that don’t you understand?"

"Liar. I know you’re carrying a weapon yourself." He yells.

"First of all, you don’t tell me what to do on my turf. And second of all, this is my house. I’ll fucking carry it if I want to. And third, what makes you think you can talk to me like that?"

I know for a fact that if my father were alive, this rogue Serpent wouldn’t dare to speak to him like that. I have to maintain the respect and put the piss ant fucker in his place. It can’t ever get out that he intimidated me in front of other syndicates. Without giving it much thought, I grab his throat and shove him to the wall, pressing on his throat until he is wheezing, barely able to pull any air in his lungs. His eyes bulge out. "Get the gun, Miles."

Even in his state, the guy is relentless. "I...I’m not g...giving my gun to...to―"

I press harder and he begins to cough. "Hand it over."

The men are watching me, and I know they are. I’m making sure to give them and the crowd a show. This is how I get their respect. They bow to the meanest dog and I want to make sure they walk out of here knowing I’m exactly that. Not that I can’t snatch the gun off of him. I want him to give it up himself. When he still hesitates, I press my forearm on his throat and lift him until his toes hang.

When I’m satisfied that he can’t breathe, I let go of his throat grab him by his collar and shake him vigorously. His teeth click forcefully and his breath reeks of garlic and whiskey. His shaky hand reaches to the gun holster and he grabs it then perches down slowly, and I let him put it on the ground then yank him up again. Miles grabs the weapon.

"How about you show some fucking manners in my house?" I bark. Usually, I let Miles deal with slobs like him. Perhaps he is just drunk and disorderly, but even then, I can’t let him disrespect my house. It is important that the men know that I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.

I press on his windpipe again. My weight and physique work to my advantage and some twisted part of me likes the way he gasps like a trout. He’s trying to talk but his words aren’t coming out clearly because of the pressure I’m lodging at his throat. "Say what, fucker?

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