Page 112 of Broken Mafia Prince
I’ve never in my life wanted to know what someone is thinking so bad, but something tells me that it’s better I don’t know. I watch her now as she approaches. Her hair is shorter now, and there’s something harder about her. I used to think it was cute when she showed up to our meetings wearing all black like it was some kind of secret mission. I find that I’m disappointed to see her in tan pants and a thin, light pink blouse.
The urge to scold her for coming out without a jacket hits me immediately, but I decide this is neither the time nor the place. I don’t have the right either, so I swallow back my protest and keep my face as blank as possible.
Giulia stops about ten feet away from me, and I see her shoulders stiffen. “Raffaele,” she says without inflection.
I put just as much inflection in my voice as I reply, “Hello Giulia, long time, no see.”
She snorts. “And you just had to ruin that, didn’t you?”
“I don’t remember putting a gun to your head and forcing you to come here.”
“You shouldn’t have called me in the first place,” she replies. “You knew exactly what would happen the second you called me.”
My sleeves are pushed up just enough for her to see my cufflinks—gold lions, the same pair I’ve always worn. I catch the way her gaze stumbles when she notices, the way memory flickers behind her eyes. I remember her fingers tracing those lions once, back when she still believed we could rewrite the story we were born into.
“You still wear those?” Her voice is sharp, but the edge can’t quite hide the softer thing underneath—the memory, the wanting she doesn’t want to admit.
“Always,” I say, voice low. Because no matter how far she runs, no matter who she tries to marry—I’ll always be her first love.
She looks away first. Coward. But her hands tremble slightly at her sides, and I know it’s not from the cold.
Something inside me comes to life, something dark, possessive, and hungry. I try to tamp down the urge to reach for her, and I end up having to curl my hands into fists at my side.
“It’s not my fault you don’t have any self-restraint.”
“And you do?” she asks.
We both know that I don’t, and saying otherwise will be a clear lie. If I did have any self-restraint, she wouldn’t be here right now. I would have been able to stop myself from wanting to see her.
“Maybe,” I eventually say.
Her mouth quirks up at one corner. “Says the man who can’t help but kiss me every opportunity he gets.”
“I wouldn’t be able to trust a man who doesn’t want to kiss you every opportunity he gets.”
At my words, something sad and conflicted passes through her eyes. I don’t like the way she’s suddenly hunching her shoulders, like she’s trying to hide from the world. I want to shake her until she tells me exactly what put that look in her eyes, so I can hunt it down and destroy it. I open my mouth to do as much, but she beats me to it.
“Why am I here?” she asks.
Because just like me, you have no self-restraint, I want to say, but the last thing I want is to send her running for the hills, and I know that that’s precisely what will happen if I say such a thing. She’s lying to herself if she thinks the only reason she’s here is because I promised her information that could save her family’s life. She cares about them, I know that, but her eyes speak to me more than words could ever say.
“My father is plotting to get rid of yours. We both know how the mafia world works. As soon as the head falls, the rest of the castle goes tumbling down with it,” I inform her.
“I won’t let that happen,” she says.
“You won’t be able to stop it.”
A bitter laugh suddenly slips out of her throat. “Fucking hell,” she says. “When is this all going to be over! When will this war be over so I can lead a semi-normal life?”
“If you wanted a normal life, I don’t think getting yourself engaged to that asshole was the way to go at all.” My gaze drops down to her hands hanging at her sides. I immediately clock the obnoxiously large diamond ring on her finger. “How subtle.”
Her fingers curl up, hiding the ring from my view.
“I don’t know where the hell you found someone willing to put up with you. I didn’t think there were a lot of suicidal men running around.”
Her jaw clenches and she takes a threatening step in my direction, eyes narrowed into slits. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean exactly what I’ve just said.”
