Page 117 of Broken Mafia Prince
GIULIA
The woman in the mirror isn’t me anymore. Not after that kiss with Raffaele. We’ve had so many perfect kisses, but this one felt like the atoms of the world were rearranging into an alternate one.
I drag the pads of my fingers over my lips, sucking in a breath when I brush them over where his mouth was. It feels like it’s been longer than three hours since he reminded me what it feels like to be eaten alive, devoured until there’s nothing but desire and longing left.
I run my gaze over my reflection, trying to assure myself that I’m still the one standing there, that I’m still me. My roaming gaze stops on the bright flash of my massive diamond ring. From the moment Alessandro slipped it onto my finger, I’ve constantly had to keep my hands curled up to not feel like I’m attracting every robber and criminal from a mile away.
If my fiancé ever cared to know me, he’d have known that the huge, shiny rock is not me at all. It makes me look like such an asshole.
Without another thought, I slip it off and toss it on my dresser, then walk out of the room, intent on telling my fatherexactly what I think about this arrangement he’s dragged me into under false pretenses. I refuse to go along with this scheme and any other scheme he wants to rope me into.
I’ve been waiting for the right moment to confront my father—to make him admit what he did—but I can’t wait any longer. It’s time to face him.
I’m done being a fucking pawn.
I push open the door to his study and walk right in without knocking. Father is seated in his large leather chair, staring thoughtfully at the chessboard in front of him. He got into chess while he was still laid up in bed and recovering from his extensive injuries two years ago. It’s become a bit of an obsession for him.
“Giulia.” He glances up at me, a frown on his face. “Good, you’re here. Let’s play together. We can start the game with…” he trails off, eyes narrowing.
I follow his gaze to my hand, where there’s an absence of a ring. I square my shoulders and lock my eyes with him, showing him that the absence is very intentional… and very permanent.
“Where’s your ring?” he asks carefully.
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
“That ring is custom-made. It cost six figures,” he deadpans.
“Oh, six figures?” I smirk, feigning surprise. “Didn’t you already cash in big with your Ferrara deal?”
I see him still. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I shoot back. “So it’s just all part of my vivid imagination that you’re selling me off to the Ferraras for some guns, product, and soldiers?”
I don’t know what I’m expecting, some remorse perhaps, or some hesitation. What I get is my father’s face becoming as hard as stone. He slaps one palm down on the surface of the desk, the sharp sound making me flinch.
“You know nothing, child!”
“I won’t marry Alessandro. I won’t continue to be one of the figurines on your chessboard,” I snarl. “If he’s so perfect anyway, then you can have him.”
“If you refuse to go ahead with this marriage, you’ll automatically become a traitor to this family.” His voice is cold and precise, and I know he means every word of it.
I feel my heart cracking at the realization that Father will choose his agenda over me, his last living relative, all for the sake of a revenge that he doesn’t even realize has ended his life.
“I’ll be more than relieved not to be a part of this mess,” I say. “I’m done with you taking advantage of my care for you. How long am I going to let you control my entire life?”
“I’m thinking about yourfuture?—”
“You think Alessandro is my future?” My voice cracks just enough to make me hate myself. “Mother would have laughed in your face. She told me once that real love doesn’t come with a price tag. But you never believed in love, did you, Father?”
“It’s for your own good,” he insists.
“For my own good?” I scoff. “Is that the same thing you said to yourself before you managed to get Val and Mom killed?”
His eyes flare with fury, and I’m tempted to take a cautious step back, but instead, I stand my ground. I can’t continue living in fear of the truth. I’ve kept the fact that I know some part of the truth hidden for far too long, allowing it to fester and rot inside me.
“Think carefully about what you’re saying, Giulia.” The warning in his voice is clear, and I almost retrace my steps out of the confrontational landmine I’ve managed to land myself in.
Almost.
