Page 19 of Broken Mafia Prince
The smell of vanilla fills the kitchen, reminding me of Mama. I hope it will do the same for Papa, too, and maybe make him think of her like I do. I’ve spent the whole day flipping through recipe books, desperately searching for something that might taste as close as possible to the way Mama used to make it. Something that’ll make everything feel right again, even if just for a little while.
The chocolate chip cookies are cooling on the kitchen island, the banana cupcakes are in the oven, and I’m mixing a fresh batch of dough forsfogliatelle. Papa always liked them, and I still remember the way he’d sneak behind Mama, trying to steal them off the cooling tray when he thought no one was looking.
It made me laugh then, and I almost smile now, wishing I could make him happy like that again.
“What are you doing, Giulia?” Papa asks, his eyes scanning me briefly before his gaze slides over the messy kitchen like he doesn’t even notice it.
“I thought I’d make something sweet for us,” I reply, smiling so wide my face hurts. “I was going to make some iced tea, and we could watchThe Sound of Music.”
It is—no, it was—one of Mama’s favorite movies. She always cried at the end, while Val and I remained dry-eyed, singing along happily. My chest tightens like it always does when I think about them.
It’s like someone’s squeezing my heart, and it makes me feel small and lost all over again.
Leaving our home and moving here hasn’t done anything to lessen the pain of losing them, and in fact, some days it feels like I’d have been better off in California. It felt like home there, and at least I was able to fall asleep when I curled up in Val’s bed.
My bed here is too big, and everything feels foreign. Even though it’s been three years, I still feel like a stranger drifting through unfamiliar rooms and hallways.
Papa still doesn’t talk about Mama much. After she passed, he got rid of everything that reminded him of her. Every picture, every piece of furniture that had belonged to her. It’s like he thought moving here, to this enormous house, would be enough to forget.
But for me, it just made everything worse. I miss the old house, even if it was small. At least it felt like home. Here, everything feels like it’s on display, like it’s all just for show.
Papa’s always busy, and even when he’s here, it’s not really him I’m talking to. It’s like there’s a wall between us. His work friends, the new staff, the bodyguards he hired—they’re all here, always here. There’s never a moment that’s just us. After Mama and Val… after everything… it feels like we’ve both been lost, just floating through life, never really connecting.
We live in this huge mansion now, with ten rooms and too many hallways to count, but I would trade it all for the times back in California when I didn’t have to walk around alone,checking in with the bodyguard before I could even speak to Papa. It’s like I’m invisible now.
“What do you say, Papa?” I ask, my voice trembling just a little. “Should I give you a few minutes to wash up and join me? I’m almost done. We can watch it together, just like we used to. Just like old times.”
Some emotion rises in the depths of Papa’s eyes, and for a breathless moment, I think he’s going to take my offer and take one step toward erasing the distance between us. But then the door behind flings open, and two men in dark suits walk in.
The moment cracks and then shatters as he turns away from me. “Make sure to clean all this up.”
I refuse to take his words for the clear dismissal they are. Dropping the whisk on the counter, I rush after him. “I’ll put the cookies in the fridge, and they’ll keep until you’re done with your meeting.”
He doesn’t spare me a glance. “Not now, Giulia, I’m busy.”
“I wouldn’t mind cookies,” one of Father’s guests says, swinging around to face me.
I take a step back, something unpleasant crawling down my spine as the man’s dark, beady eyes land on mine. I recognize him as the man who’s been coming around consistently for the past few weeks. I don’t like any of the men Papa brings to the house, but I’m particularly averse to the one smiling down at me.
“They’re not for you!” I snap at him.
“Gentlemen, shall we?” Papa motions to his office, and the men follow his direction.
I wait for my father’s eyes to meet mine so I can plead my case again, but a moment later, the door shuts between us.
If only the door was the only thing separating us, I think bitterly.
I press my head to the solid wooden door with a defeated sigh. What had once been a little gap between Papa and mewas now a gaping chasm, with no bridge in sight. Every time I attempt to cross over to his side, he takes a step away, widening the space between us.
“I don’t know what to do,” I mutter.
“I can’t think of a single person with a vendetta against Nina, which means that whoever did it was either after me or him,” I hear Papa say.
Vendetta? Against Mama?
I press my ear close to the door, curious. I haven’t heard him mention Mama or Val since they were taken from us, as if they’d ceased to exist to him.
“Not a lot of people knew about their connection, so I doubt this has anything to do with him,” one of the men replies.
