Page 106 of Broken Mafia Prince
“He’s been meeting a lot of people the past few days, but I didn’t think much of it,” he says. “Apparently, he’s been gathering every crook off the streets to join the ranks.”
“That’s not possible,” I say incredulously. “Only made men are?—”
“I guess you don’t know Edoardo that well,” he snorts. “When has he ever followed a code of conduct?”
While that is true, I never thought he would stoop this low. I run a hand through my hair, yanking in frustration. At this rate, I’ll be bald in no time. Why would Emilio let this happen?
“He’s gathering an army like he’s getting ready for the third world war,” he continues. “He’s not being picky about who he lets in. I’m crazy, but even I don’t approve of this.”
Which is a lot coming from a man who runs into burning buildings and once single-handedly snuck into enemy territory with nothing but a knife strapped to his ankle.
“How is the family approving of this?” I ask.
“Don’t ask me,” he replies. “All I know is that Enrico’s days are numbered, and once he falls, his family will be too weak to do anything but surrender at the first sight of your father’s army.”
I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve always known that it would eventually get to something like this, and I’ve been dreading it. The fact is, my father may think that eliminating the Montanaris and seizing their territory will be easy, but he failed to consider the new marriage alliance with Alessandro and the entire Ferrara family.
While the Ferraras choose to mostly keep to themselves, they are far from weak. I already know from reliable sources that their weapon supply is nothing to scoff at.
“Let me know if you hear anything else.” I hang up.
This news, in addition to what I’ve just discovered about Giulia’s engagement, makes me feel torn. I don’t want her to get caught in this, but her asshole of a father has managed to get her entangled so firmly that I’m not sure that there’s any way out but through it.
I’ve always known Enrico is a bastard, but selling your only daughter for weapons, drugs, and allies is a new low. Does he even realize that no amount of cargo will ever amount to her? If he ever got his head out of his ass and puts Giulia in charge of the business, he’d finally see that he has an untapped diamond mine right under his nose. Instead, he thinks tossing her off to those morons is the best move.
Honestly, if Enrico and my father ever decide to sit down and have a civil discussion, they’ll see how alike they are.
Seething, I snatch my phone back from the table and dial Matteo’s number. Every second that his phone rings without him picking up just makes my muscles coil tighter and tighter.
“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” he grumbles as soon as he picks up.
From the phone, I can hear the sound of a woman calling him back to bed. I want to snap at him that I damn well know it’s the middle of the night, and that he’s awfully lucky that he’s not plagued with horrible insomnia and can actually take a woman to bed and get some satisfaction from it.
“I need you to get me Giulia’s number,” I say instead.
There’s a meaningful pause on the other end of the line. “Giulia Montanari?”
“By all means, get me the contact number of every Giulia on the continent,” I drawl.
“Are you drunk?” I hear shuffling sounds, as if he’s hurriedly pulling on clothes.
“If you’re thinking about driving all the way here for a heart-to-heart, I have only one thing to say to you. Don’t.” The last thing I need is to listen to Matteo recite to me the pros and cons of getting back in touch with her. As far as I’m concerned, the pro is her and the con is not having her. It’s that fucking simple.
“I’ll need some time to?—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Matteo,” I snap. “You forget that I know you. There’s no way you haven’t had that number tucked away right from the first time you heard about her.”
“You should think about this.”
Think about it? Like I’ve been able to think about anything else since that day at the airport. It’s been her, her, and more of her. If space won’t cure me, then I may as well overdose on her.
My silence tells him all he needs to know, and he sighs. “I’m sending the number over right now.”
When I check my phone, I see his text with her number. My hands tremble a little as I dial. And then I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself.
“Hello?” The smooth cadence of her voice knocks me over like I’m a bowling pin, and I try to keep my breaths even.
I try and fail to keep my voice composed. When I respond, I sound like a man who had a taste of heaven, was starved, and has just now rediscovered it.
