Page 138 of Broken Mafia Prince
His face tightens. “Make peace with them? Those bastards don’t deserve peace or our forgiveness.”
I scoff. “What have they done? You and Edoardo have both done your fair share to each other. Isn’t it high time you call it equal and put this entire matter to rest? And what better time is there than at a wedding party happening under our own roof? One conversation with them could fix all of this. How aren’t you tired of the constant war, the plotting, the scheming, the hate, the losses, all of it? How can you continue to watch our men lose their lives?”
“All the lives already lost would be for nothing if I give up now.”
“You’re not giving up!” I throw my hands up in the air. “You’re saving the lives of others who could die in the course of this stupid feud.”
He stares at me through unreadable eyes. “On second thought, you should wear pastel for the party. We don’t want you looking like you’re selling anything other than your hand in marriage.”
My stomach rolls at his words, bile rushing up my throat. “You’re disgusting.”
“See you Saturday.”
This time around, I don’t hesitate to spin on my heel and rush out of the house. If there was any doubt about my decision to elope with Raffaele, it’s definitely gone now in the face of my father’s callous words.
I’ll be at this fucking wedding party, but not for him, and he’d better not make any moves to steer me in the direction of Senator Barlowe’s slimy pals.
Isabella wolf-whistleswhen I turn around to face her. “Your father is going to have a cardiac arrest when he sees you. Are you sure about this?”
I turn back to the full-length mirror and smooth the front of the dress. The rose-gold silk dress hugs every curve of my body and trails off in a delicate train. It’s decent enough from the front, with a high cowl neck and full coverage. The back, however, is a different matter.
I peek over my shoulder at the non-existent back and swallow nervously. I’m not all that worried about what my father will think; he can go to hell and stay there. The nerves and excitement warring inside me are because of Raffaele. He won’t like this.
This past week with him has made me realize how possessive he is about me. I’ve had a lot of fun poking at his boundaries, and I know I’m playing with fire by wearing this. But then again, we’re going to be surrounded by family, so what could he possibly do?
“You’re blushing,” Isa suddenly points out.
“It’s hot in here.” I make a show of fanning myself.
My cousin throws her head back, laughing. “Sell that crap to someone else, ’cause I’m not buying it. You know, I never took you for a tease.”
I gape at her. “I’m not a tease.”
“Like I didn’t see you picking out a thong earlier.” She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t I teach you the value of chastity until marriage? I’m so disappointed. You’ve failed me, child.”
I giggle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Keep it in your panties until you say your I do’s.” She wags her finger at me.
“Hmm.” I grab my clutch from the bed and toss my lipstick into it, heading for the door. I glance over my shoulder and wink at her. “But I’m not wearing any.”
The last thing I see before I shut the door behind me is her jaw dropping open in shock.
I haven’t beenable to keep my hands off Raffaele since we got together, and I don’t know if today will be any different. Sneaking off with him is a bad move with so many people around and all the attention on the rival families.
Isa is right about me being a tease, because I have every intention of making my fiancé swear and sweat. The thought of him sitting with a throbbing erection while acting like he has no idea who I am excites me way more than it should, but I also can’t wait until we’re married and never have to hide again.
My steps falter at that thought as I suddenly realize that our situation is similar to what happened years ago with my parents. Is it possible that my father never actually stole Mother away? Maybe, just like me, my mother made the conscious decision to leave her family behind and start a new life far from it all.
The first sight that greets me as I step out of the house is the nauseating one of Senator Barlowe swallowing his bride’s mouth. The girl can’t be much older than me, and he’s old enough to be her grandfather. She looks ill when he finally pulls away with a leer. I turn in the opposite direction to stop myself from doing something crazy like going over there and breaking a champagne bottle over the older man’s depraved head.
My gaze lands on chilling blue eyes, and I shudder. Edoardo Gagliardi is a perfect image of his son, twenty or so years from now, but there’s something very cold and reptilian about the older man. I hurriedly look away, making sure not to meet his son’s eyes, either.
There is no hiding the bad blood between the two families, not with them seated as far from each other as possible, but still managing to fix each other with hate-filled eyes. I sigh and head to my side of the battle camp.
“I said to wear pastel,” Father hisses as soon as I’m close.
“I was going to listen to you, but then I remembered that I don’t,” I say sweetly, taking the seat next to him.
