Page 87 of Broken Mafia Prince
“I heard the Cozzoli boy tried to take her out there and force himself on her,” one of the men says, face twisted in disgust. “In my day, if you wanted a woman, you bought her flowers and took her out on a date or two.”
Another man waves his hand dismissively snorting. “Your days are long gone. The boy took initiative. Personally, I think the Montanari girl is?—”
“Do you know what I think?” I cut in before the man can sign his death warranty.
The room is plunged into silence at the sound of my icy voice, and eight pairs of eyes, including my father’s, fix on me. “I think we should concentrate on why we are here and not continue to waste our time. I have things to do, so I’d like us to get on with it and end this meeting.”
My father’s hard eyes meet mine, and I hold his gaze without flinching. Whatever he sees in mine makes it clear that I’m not fucking around.
He lets out a dry chuckle. “This younger generation, it’s always work for them. You know what they say about all work and no play, Raffaele.”
I ignore him. “All our shipments to Atlanta have been called back because of the new governor’s barrier policy. I need a meeting with the governor to show him that being on our side will be in his best interest.”
“I can get you an invite to his daughter’s birthday,” Paulo says, shooting me a knowing glance. “She’s a pretty blonde and her father’s a billionaire-turned-politician. You’ll like her.”
“Get me that invite first.” I nod. “You’ll be the first to know when I’m in the market for a blonde heiress.”
My father guffaws, and then rises to his feet. “Let’s move this to my office. I have an emergency cigar somewhere in there and it’s far more confidential.”
I grit my teeth in annoyance as the other men jump to their feet, eager to follow my father and avoid the serious conversation. They’re all a bunch of children, and it’s honestly no surprise to me that they keep whining about having to take loans and how they’re losing men. Fortunately for my father, he still has Emilio and me running his empire while he smokes his cigars and fucks the staff.
Speaking of Emilio, I catch his eye across the room, and he subtly shakes his head, warning me not to do anything stupid.
“You coming, Raffaele?” my father asks, looking smug.
It’s obvious I’m not the favorite among his inner circle of old-school loyalists. They worship him, and he knows it. My father likes to believe I’m scheming to take his place as head of the Gagliardi family, but the truth? I couldn’t care less about his throne.
I’m perfectly fine where I am.
Besides, running a crime family doesn’t exactly align with my plans to open a fully legitimate club. Clean money and mafia business? Those two don’t belong in the same sentence, let alone the same reality.
“Go on ahead,” I reply just as my phone pings with a text. I glance down at the phone screen and see that it’s from the man I put in charge of Giulia.
I wait for the door to shut behind the last man before I unlock my phone, hoping he’s sent his report with a picture this time around.
“You shouldn’t be antagonizing the men.” The sound of Emilio’s voice when I thought I was all alone almost makes me drop my phone. I manage to grab it on time and slip it into the inner pocket of my suit jacket.
“I don’t see you advising your boss. Isn’t that what he pays you for?”
He scoffs. “You think that’s why he keeps me around? Have you met him at all? He only listens to himself.”
“So why—” The sound of a gunshot covers the rest of my words. I glance over at Emilio to find him already looking at me.
Without thinking, we both jump to our feet, drawing our guns and running in the direction of the gunshot. Another one echoes through the house, feeling overly loud in the narrow halls. My eyes widen when I realize the sound is coming from my father’s study.
I barge into the study without the slightest bit of hesitation, gun already trained on the shooter. For a single, stretched-outsecond, everything stills—Paulo’s expression frozen, my father clutching his stomach, the scent of burnt gunpowder lingering.
Then my instincts take over.
Two gunshots go off at the same time, one from me and the other from Emilio, blowing Paulo’s head clean off.
Paulo was a pawn. A fucking idiot who thought he could climb the ladder by biting the hand that fed him.
“Call the ambulance.Immediatamente!” I roar at Emilio, my heart pounding fast in my chest as I stare down the other men. I watch with calculating eyes, trying to figure out who else is in the plot with Paulo, because I find it hard to believe he was working alone.
I’m not surprised when I see one of the men’s hands reaching slowly for something in his pocket. I shift my gun in his direction and fire at his fingers. He lets out a high-pitched scream as his fingers are shot off, blood spurting out.
The small revolver he had been trying to pull out of his pocket clatters to the floor and I tsk. I raise my gun to kill him.
