Page 46 of Broken Mafia Prince
My type isn’t egotistical trust fund kids, it’s dark-haired, blue-eyed men with?—
My thoughts come to a screeching halt when I realize the direction they’re going in.
“Luca is?—”
I don’t let him finish. I won’t listen to another word of his praise for that pompous ass. If Luca is so wonderful, he can have him. “Here’s your ledger,” I snap, throwing it back at him.Without waiting for another word, I whirl around and storm out of the room before he can say anything else.
The whole reason I flew out to Vegas was because Luca promised me a weekend I’d never forget. Well, he was right about that. I won’t ever forget spending an entire night watching him get drunk, ogle and paw every woman in sight, and then pass out in the back of our ride like a pathetic mess.
Isa is going to have a field day when I tell her.
Hours later, I’m sitting across from my cousin, who’s doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach as tears streak down her face. I recount the entire disaster of my weekend, and her laughter rings through the room.
“Oh my god, this is gold,” she wheezes.
“If this is gold, then I don’t even want to know what shit is.” I groan, reaching for the bottle of wine. She slaps my hand away with a finger pointed at me. I shoot her a dirty look. “What the fuck?”
“You’re not old enough to drink,” she says sternly.
I grin back at her. “I clearly remember you getting me drunk on my sixteenth. Besides, if I’m old enough to almost get shot by a Gagliardi assassin, I’m definitely old enough to have a drink.”
“I’ll give you a pass tonight.” Isa winks at me. “Don’t remind me how young you are. Ugh.”
I stick out my tongue at her.
“Go to hell,” she retorts with a laugh. Isa just turned legal to drink ten days ago, but she’s been sneaking drinks for years. She’s hardly in a position to lecture me about alcohol.
Her gaze shifts to my arm, and I see concern flash in her eyes. “Does it hurt? You should see a doctor about that.”
“Did Raffaele put you up to saying that?” I roll my eyes, but then I catch myself. The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and I snap my head up to see Isa’s wide, curious eyes locked on mine.
“It’s not what you?—”
“Who the hell is Raffaele?” she interrupts, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare lie to me, because I’ll know if you do.”
Damn it. I’ve been so careful to keep my encounter with Raffaele under wraps, but I’ve just gone and ruined it with my big mouth.
I swallow, trying to steady my breath as I search for the right words. “Raffaele Gagliardi was at the airport during the attack. He’s… a big asshole.”
Isa snorts. “He can afford to be. Sweetheart, if you look upAdonisin the dictionary, I’m sure you’ll see his picture right next to the description.”
My eyes go wide. “You know him?”
“You didn’t? Are you living under a rock or something? How do you not know your sworn enemy?”
I purse my lips. “Notmine, Papa’s. I don’t care about that spawn of Satan.”
Isa flops dramatically, fanning herself with an exaggerated sigh. “Straight out of hell. No wonder he’s so smokin’.”
I sputter on my drink, the wine spraying across the table, some of it landing on Isa’s face. I can’t help but laugh—serves her right.
“I’ll forgive you for that if you give me all the dirty details of what went down with you and the spawn of Satan.” She grins, waggling her eyebrows.
“Nothing!” I blurt out, my face heating up.
“You’re blushing,” Isa points out, smirking.
“So?” I snap. “It’s warm out here.”
