Page 2 of Broken Mafia Prince
“Why does it matter? Seatbelts are for accidents, that’s what our teacher says.” I spread my arms as I speak.“Papa won’t let us get in an accident, so?—”
“Giulia Montanari, listen to your mother this instant,” Papa says sternly, his green eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
I sigh and glance over at Val, who is already buckled up and staring wide-eyed at me. Rolling my eyes, I grab the buckle and drag it across my body.
I don’t see why I have to wear thestupidseatbelt; it’s not like anything bad has ever happened or will happen. Papa drives so well that I always feel so safe.
“You can say goodbye to getting those sneakers you wanted.” My mother wags her finger at me. “You don’t deserve nice things if they don’t make you behave yourself and be respectful.”
“But Ma!” I whine, my bottom lip trembling. I deserve good things, too.
“I have nothing else to say to you,” she says as she faces forward.
I cross my arms over my chest and burrow deeper into the leather seat, furious.
How is it fair for her to promise me those sneakers and then change her mind just as quickly? A promise was a promise, and I open my mouth to say as much, but at that moment, Mama glances over at the side mirror.
I turn off my thoughts. I know how fast my lips work; I can’t lose anything else.
“Enrico, it’s that car again.” There’s a thread of worry in her voice; I see her expression tensing up.
“You worry too much, my dear,” Papa sighs.
“Someone is supposed to.” She glances over her shoulder. “That gray jaguar has been behind us since we left Malibu. My instincts say they’re following us.”
I shoot my twin a glance. Val quickly undoes her belt, and together, we climb to our knees on the seat and peek at the gray car.
I like how we both know what to do—unlike when we fight, and she stresses me out.
“Do you think it’s following us?” Val whispers, but she may as well have screamed the question. I shake my head, our dreams of being spies down the drain.
“Val, Giulia, get down from thereright nowand put your seatbelts on!” Papa snaps, his voice sharp like the time I spilled juice on his important papers. “Nora, please, you’re making the girls panic. Can you drop it?”
I gulp. Papaneversnaps. Well, almost never.
But Mama doesn’t drop it. She cranes her neck to peek out the window again. “I don’t like it,Cuore mio.What if it’s?—”
Papa’s grip on the wheel tightens just a little. Even as I laugh and tease, a tiny shiver runs down my spine, as if the road itself is whispering that something isn’t right. I notice, because Ialwaysnotice.
“Coincidence,” he murmurs. Then, firmer, like he’s trying to convince himself, too. “It’sjusta coincidence.”
Something prickles at the back of my neck, like that feeling you get when you’re being watched but you’re not sure. The tension in the car is soft, but it’s there—like something’s waiting. I don’t really get it. Mama’s always careful, like sheknowsthings. Papa? He’s like a locked box, full of secrets, with a key nobody can find.
Sometimes, when I catch a glimpse of Papa’s eyes in the mirror, I wonder if they hide secrets as mysterious as the dark streets Mama whispers about at night.
I like to think I got Mama’ssuperpower intuitionwhile Valentina got her dark eyes and fancy cheekbones—the ones that make people notice her in a room even when she’s just standing there.
Something tells me Papa’s more worried than he’s letting on.
“How about this?” he finally says, his voice a little calmer. “I’ll slow down at the next bend, and if he stays behind us instead of passing, it means you’re right.”
“Okay,” Mama agrees, her voice softer now.
I watch as he helps her settle back into her seat, his hand resting on the wheel while the other holds Mama’s. It’s like alittle piece of magic, quiet but there. Their love is the kind that could light up a whole room… or in this case, a car.
They smile at each other, and just like that, I feel warm inside, too.
“My shoes are too tight,” Val whines.
