Page 34 of Broken Mafia Prince
She throws her head back and lets out a throaty laugh, then smacks my arm playfully. “Shut up, or I’ll leave for real.”
Even though I give her grief about it, I actually enjoy my cousin’s presence. In fact, if not for her, I’d probably have gone crazy all alone in this big, silent house.
Last year, I dreaded her leaving for college, but to my surprise, she deferred so we could go together. We’re still deciding between staying in Chicago, heading to New York, or trying Berkeley. Truthfully, the location doesn’t matter as much as getting away from this house—and my father.
Just then, Isa’s phone pings with a notification. She glances over at it and makes a face. “Can you believe that Justice has been going behind my back to hang out with that server from Tarantino’s? That’s not even the worst part though—can you also believe that I’ve been ordering him food and tipping the side bitch extra to bring him meals straight from the stove—basically paying her to have a quickie with my boyfriend!”
I wince as her voice reaches an ear-splitting screech. “How did you find out?”
“Walked in on them.” She grabs a towel to wipe her hands. “And now I just want to be left alone, and he keeps calling me.I gave him two days to move out of the apartment, or I’ll throw him out, and he won’t like me if I do.”
I narrow my eyes. “Didn’t I tell you not to trust him and not to buy him all those expensive things? He’s a loser, Isa. This doesn’t surprise me.”
She shrugs. “They barely cost anything.”
Her allowance from Nonno Lucio could feed a family of five for almost a year. And she lives her life like she’s in a personal competition with herself to see how much of the allowance she can blow through. Thanks to her, my once-basic wardrobe now looks like it belongs to a runway model, with all sorts of dresses, shoes, and purses that I’ll never wear, courtesy of her.
Thinking of my Nonno reminds me of the letter I found years ago. My curiosity over it hasn’t yet abated, and I’ve found myself on the verge of telling Isa about it a hundred times. I still don’t know what to make of it or how I feel about being the granddaughter of a man who despised my parents’ union.
My relationship with Lucio Sanna is basically non-existent, and now that I know it has everything to do with the fact that his son-in-law took his daughter from him, well, it definitely puts some things into perspective. Like why Papa never, ever talks about him.
Isa doesn’t know much about my grandfather other than what she’s told me: He’s her grand-uncle, never smiles, and never complains about sending her copious amounts of money. He’s been her guardian since her father, Lorenzo Sanna, passed away when Isa was little.
I wonder what Nonno will think about me. I’m the product of a union that he never supported for his daughter. A daughter who is now dead. I wonder if he even thinks of me as family at all. Does he even know I exist?
“Anyway, enough about that jackass,” my cousin’s voice cuts into my thoughts. I blink back to the present to see herleaning forward on the chaise lounge, eyes bright with curiosity. “Oliver’s been trying to talk to you for the longest time, and?—”
I hold up a hand to stop her. “Nope.”
“What does that mean?”
“What does what mean? I’m not interested in Oliver.”
“Why not?” She throws her hands into the air. “He’s cute, and he’s the sort of boring, good boy who won’t break your heart.”
I groan and flop down on my back. “It’s not about getting my heart broken. I’m not just interested in Oliver.”
Her mouth opens, and I quickly cut in before she can say anything else. “Or any other boy.”
She pouts. “I give up on you. Everybody’s always asking me about you. Do you know how painful it is to keep on telling them that you’re not interested? You’re way more fascinated by your stupid guns like some hitman than romance. I can’t wait for the day you’ll finally get an interest in a boy.”
“Never,” I lie.
There was one boy—the most fascinating person I’ve ever met, a boy who made me pray, but it feels like it happened in a whole other lifetime. I don’t know why he, out of every person I’ve ever met in my life, has managed to leave an impression. Maybe it’s just the mystery of him. After all, who doesn’t like a good mystery?
I never found out the boy’s name, and I haven’t run into him again at any other event Papa forced me to attend. It’s almost like he disappeared into thin air after that summer retreat.
Isa knows everybody, and she might just know the blue-eyed scarred boy. And a hundred times I’ve been tempted to ask, but I’ve stopped myself each time. It’s better I keep the perfect fantasy of the surly boy and his energetic dog than to have it soiled by the truth.
And anyway, too much time has passed. I’m sure he’s forgotten all about the annoying little girl who tried to stealhis dog. He’s probably a big, bad mafioso now with his pick of sophisticated women and bloodstained hands.
I didn’t understand why Papa had so many business associates around as a child, but now, I know that the sharp-eyed men who come in and out of the house are part of the mafia. All the events that Papa drags me to are merely fronts for mafia meetings and business dealings. The summer retreat from all those years ago must have also been a gathering of criminals; the scarred boy had to be the son of one of the men there.
I’m not stupid enough to think that he miraculously managed to escape the lifestyle and is now some honest office clerk somewhere. Even all those years ago, he had had that dark aura that preludes danger.
“You can be the wealthy, cool aunt to my kids, then.” Isa winks at me.
“Position accepted,” I tell her with a solemn nod. “I’m buying them all their first cigarette.”
