Page 68 of Broken Mafia Prince
Giulia’s face should be beside the definition ofoff limitsin the dictionary, and I should know better. Damn it, I know better. It’s just hard to remember something as inconsequential as the twenty-foot-enforced steel walls between us when she stares at me like I’m the thorn in her flesh.
I find myself being torn into two. One part thinks that I should never have touched her, because now, I just want another taste. Another part thinks that I should never have let her go. I should have pulled her into the first dark nook I found and had my fill of her.
Shaking my head to dispel thoughts of her, I cross the impressive foyer of our family estate. The house hasn’t changed one bit throughout the years we’ve lived here, and it almost feels like I can still see Mother walking through these hallways,sweeping down the stairs with a tentative smile and curling up in that uncomfortable couch in one of the sitting rooms, staring out the window wistfully.
Refusing to let my sentiment set in, I head to my father’s study, rearranging my face into a hard mask. I refuse to give Father any ammo or show him any hint of weakness. It seems there’s a lot he’s been keeping from me, and it’s time for me to find out.
His door is wide open, and I’m not surprised to see Emilio standing by his side, flipping through a ledger. My father’s blue eyes snap up when I walk into the room, and he takes his time studying me like a lab rat. I stand there and let him, knowing that whatever he’s trying to read from my body language, he won’t find it.
“What do you want?” he finally asks, waving his right-hand man away like he’s a lowly servant. Unsurprisingly, Emilio doesn’t complain or argue; he obediently shuts the ledger and walks out.
His eyes briefly meet mine on his way out, a message in them that I can’t interpret. I make a mental note to speak to him later, even though I know it’ll be a waste of time. Emilio will know exactly what’s going on and what my father has been up to, but he’s as loyal as they come. Getting him to say anything will be almost impossible.
“I should be asking whatyouwant,” I tell Father.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks just as the door snicks shut behind me.
I stick my hands in my pockets and give him the same look of perusal he’d given me earlier. “You must want something bad enough for you to get so entangled with the Syndicate. So what is it that you want?”
His jaw tensed. “What do you know about me and the Syndicate?”
“Nothing, except the fact that you’ve been pressuring me for years to join them,” I tell him. “And that there’s evidence that they may have been masterminding this entire family feud with the Montanaris for ages.”
“Where did you get this so-called evidence from?” He laughs, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands over his chest.
I wait for him to get over his laughing fit, mouth pressing into a thin line. The reason I’m so successful in the mafia isn’t because I have a history of not being forgiving or that my family name has been around for generations. The real reason is because I know how to read people.
Back in my younger years, I had nothing to do, no one to play with or talk to, so I’d sit up in a tree and watch people. I learned how to read them expertly, learned their nervous tells, and what made them tick. Which is why, as I watch my father now, I can tell that he’s uneasy.
“Does it matter?” I shrug, not wanting to reveal the pendant and the men I caught snooping around the warehouse. “What the fuck is going on with you and the Syndicate? I’m not letting you keep me in the dark about this anymore.”
He slants me a thoughtful glance. “A collaboration is the only way to take them down once and for all. It’s the only way to uproot that family in such a way that they’d never come back.”
I try not to gape at his hate-filled eyes as he spits out the words. Up until today, I still don’t understand the reason the two families loathe each other so much. I’ve asked in the past of course, and I’ve also done my own research, but neither has turned up anything substantial.
I’m beginning to think neither of the current family patrons even knows the reason for this feud, and yet they hold onto it and let it consume them. I know that if something ever happens to Father, he’ll expect me to keep the burning fires of hatredalive. He’ll be wasting his time though, because there’s no way I’m letting a generational fight consume me.
I won’t be surprised if the cause of this entire thing is something stupid, like someone stepping on someone else’s shoe.
“Collaborating with them to take down the Montanaris,” I echo. “And what does the Syndicate benefit from destroying them?”
He scoffs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve done something to incur the Syndicate’s wrath. Or maybe it’s one of those ‘the enemy of my friend is my enemy’ situations.”
I can smell bullshit a mile off, and his words stink of it. “Your decisions directly affect this entire family, our business, everything. I have a right to know what’s going on. You can either tell me what’s actually going on, or I’ll find out myself, and I’ll make my investigation so messy that whatever deal you have going on will fall apart.”
At my words, the temperature in the room drops to glacial levels. The look the older man levels at me would make a lesser man tuck tail and run, but unfortunately for him, I’m impervious.
Eventually, he relents. “The Syndicate is going to give me not only major divisions in Chicago, but New York, Washington, D.C., and Florida. And all I have to do in return is wipe the Montanaris from the face of the earth. Can you believe it? I’m being rewarded for doing something that’s my lifelong goal.”
I don’t share in my father’s excitement. What I feel at that moment is a mixture of horror, anger, and frustration. How can he be so stupid to trust the Syndicate? Can’t he stop to think for one second and be suspicious of the fact that if they can give him the world on a platter of gold, why can’t they take the Montanaris out themselves?
“You can’t trust them!” I bark.
“Come now, Raffaele, don’t you want to see this plague of a family gone as much as I do?”
Do I never want to see Giulia again? Hell fucking no. “We?—”
“Boy, listen to me and listen good,” he cuts in sternly. “Don’t think for one second that they’re not every inch as horrible as I say they are. You think these attacks on us are coming from ghosts? It’s them!”
