Don’t Cross a Principessa

For three years, I used my family's mob ties and my own money to pave the way for Declan's crew. He was the boy I survived the streets with as a kid.

But at this month's sit-down, his newly hired secretary, Roxy, tossed my casino ledgers and club records onto the table in front of all the guys. She accused me of skimming profits and slacking off.

"I say we kick Katerina out of the crew. Immediately."

Roxy's voice pierced through the smoke-filled back room like a bullet.

I looked at this little secretary who had just climbed into the boss's bed. She stood at the head of the long table, clutching a stack of photos. Her young face was full of smugness.

Two dozen sets of eyes turned to me.

"Roxy, what the hell are you talking about?" I put down my glass of bourbon and frowned. What kind of game was this woman playing?

She slapped the photos down hard and spread them across the table.

Under the dim lights, she laid out pictures of me. I was walking in and out of rival turfs and underground banks for everyone to see.

"Boys, take a look at this solid proof." Roxy's voice trembled with excitement.

"For the past three months, Katerina hasn't been managing the club at all. Instead, she's been meeting with other crews constantly."

She threw down a few more receipts. They were records of massive cash payments.

A private smuggling port. A black-market boxing ring. A rival outfit's strip club.

"And here is the proof of her stealing crew money."

Roxy threw out a pile of bills.

"For security fees at the Southside docks, she pocketed a hundred grand. Her cut for laundering money downtown was a massive sixty grand. And every time she visits these rival turfs, she's just handing our cash over to them."

The room was dead silent.

It was absolutely ridiculous. She had no idea that my absence was actually me working. I used my family's deep blood ties to negotiate with cutthroat bosses for this little upstart crew.

Behind those seemingly crazy expenses were three main smuggling routes at the docks. They also secured an upcoming liquor contract worth twenty million dollars.

Every single person sitting here knew exactly what was going on.

"A total loss of half a million dollars." Roxy tapped the last ledger. "I say the Boss strips her of all power right now to save our money."

"That's the only way to show the boys that rules are rules. Otherwise, everyone will try to pull a stunt like this."

I scanned the faces around the long table.

I looked at the soldiers I had bailed out with my own cash. I looked at the ones who had borrowed personal money from me, and the ones I had promoted from street-corner grunts. Right now, they all kept their heads down and stared at their glasses.

The scarred accountant watched me use my own money to pay off his loan shark debts back then. Now, he was just pretending to clean a knife.

The head of club security stared at the floor. Just last month, he came to me to clear a murder charge.

Even my top enforcer was looking at me with judgment. He was the man I brought up from being a petty street thug.

My eyes finally landed on my childhood partner, the boss of this crew, Declan.

Three years ago, he came to me holding a rusty pistol and a dream of making a name on these streets.

He didn't know where I really came from, and I never said a word about it.

I didn't just give him the startup money to recruit muscle. I even cooked his books and sat in dark VIP rooms to keep greedy suppliers happy for him.

He knew the whole truth.

He knew what deals I made every time I supposedly abandoned my post. He knew what those bills paid for.

That dirty money won the crew a monopoly on the city's underground casinos. It locked down the upcoming massive smuggling contract.

Declan slowly looked up. There wasn't a single trace of guilt in his eyes.

Instead, his eyes were full of coldness, and even a twisted sense of pride.

"Katerina," he started in a cold tone. "Do you have anything to say about these ledgers and the proof of you breaking the rules?"