Page 77 of Broken Mafia Prince
Handsome is an understatement. It’s like calling the sun hot. “He is, but he’s arrogant and he’s in the mafia. I’m not interested in getting more embroiled in this world. Someone else can have him, he’s not my cup of tea.” I keep my voice as flippant as possible, hoping she’ll drop it.
“That’s because he’s a whole jug of steaming coffee.” She waggles her eyebrows.
The sound of heavy footsteps makes us sit up and turn in the direction of the hallway. Luca marches out, face pinched into a scowl. At my side, my cousin tenses as he approaches, and I drop my hand down on her thigh, holding her back when I feel her start to stand up. I don’t want to have to murder him if he tries to lay his hands on Isa.
Luca stops in front of me, ignoring my cousin completely. “This isn’t over, sweetheart. This marriage is going to happen. You’ll either walk down the aisle by yourself, or I’ll make you, but nothing will stand in the way. Nothing.”
The certainty in his voice rocks me to my core, and a flash of fear races through me. What the hell did he and Father discuss that’s made him so furious? Even though Father jumped to my aid earlier, I doubt it’ll make him suddenly call off the entire thing, but something must have happened in there.
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until the front door shuts behind Luca and I start breathing again.
“What the hell was that?” Isa asks, as confused as I am about his last words.
I shrug, pressing a palm to my stomach, which feels like it’s twisted up into a complicated knot. I can feel my lovely breakfast rising up my throat, and suddenly there’s not enough air in the penthouse.
“I need to get out of here,” I croak.
“Let’s go to mine,” she says, but I shake my head.
“If the Syndicate guys are actually following us, I can’t bring them right to your doorstep,” I say. “I can’t put you at risk like that.”
“So where will you go?” She narrows her eyes suspiciously.
A faint flush rises up my cheeks. “Raffaele’s safe house.”
My cousin parks her hands on her hip. “Is this really about my safety or something else?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I roll my eyes, but even to my ears, the denial feels hollow, and I wonder if I’ve fallen so far down the rabbit hole that I’m now making up excuses to be around him.
“Whatever,” she sighs. “Just be careful, okay? Do you need a ride out?”
“Yeah, sure. Give me a minute. I need to shower and pack an extra set of clothes.” And ask the owner of the house if I could make a return visit.
I hurry up to the bedroom I usually claim whenever we’re in the penthouse. Inside the closet are two comfortable lounge sets in a generic gray and a black jersey dress. I jump into the shower, and get dressed in one of the gray sets. I dial Raffaele’s number while I brush my hair.
“Miss me?” His deep voice comes from the phone as soon as he picks. Even though he’s trying to sound light, I can feel some tenseness in his voice.
I bite back the urge to ask what’s going on. “I need to use your safehouse again.”
I wait for him to ask why, but he must be distracted, or maybe he just trusts me that much. “The passcode is 269108. You’re not allowed to write it down, so for your sake, I hope the space in between your ears isn’t filled with air and sassy retorts.”
“Go to hell,” I snap. My only response is silence. The bastard hung up on me.
I’m tempted to call him back and ask him if at any point in his life, he went by the name Tarzan. On second thought, I let it go. Not even a kid raised by chimps in the jungle would be so mannerless.
I walk out of the room when I spot something winking at me from the top of the dresser. I inch toward it slowly and reach for it. It’s my medallion from all those years ago. I haven’t seen it inyears, and I thought I’d lost it. I must have forgotten it here the last time I was here, which has been far too long.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve slipped it around my neck, allowing it to settle on my skin under my chest. A wave of peace washes over me, and I take a deep, cleansing breath. Without allowing myself to think twice about it, I throw Raffaele’s T-shirt into the duffel with my essentials.
Isa is tapping her feet impatiently by the time I get downstairs. “Let’s go,” I tell her.
“Is he going to be there with you?” Isa asks slyly.
“Hell no!” I bark.
I ignore the part of me that’s disappointed by that response and trail after my cousin out of the penthouse.
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