Page 83 of Prince of Vice

"Isabella refuses to talk to me," I say, frustration seeping into my voice.

"Smartest of us all, then," Teddy quips, and I glare at him.

"Can we be serious? Please."

"Alright, alright, relax," he says, raising his hands in surrender. "What have you done so far to try and get her to talk to you?"

"Visited her, sent gifts and flowers," I list off.

"Doing it all wrong," he says, shaking his head. "Are these just generic gifts?"

"Y-yes," I stammer, taken aback by his bluntness.

"Showing up unannounced to force her to talk to you?" Teddy raises an eyebrow, and I nod, feeling my cheeks burn with shame. "See, women don't want generic gifts when their men screw up. They want something special that shows you're really sorry. Anyone can buy her flowers. Every woman wants a guy who makes her feel special."

I frown, pondering his words. "Why do flowers seem so popular then?"

"Because there's a fool born every minute," Teddy shrugs, a wry smile playing on his lips.

"Teddy, I'm not sure what I can do for her based on this advice."

"Put actual thought into it. Women like being thought about and all that," he says as he takes a sip of his protein shake. "Personalize your approach."

"Speaking of women," I say, smirking at him, "why don't you have a girlfriend? You seem to know it all."

He grins. "I have many."

"Of course," I retort, rolling my eyes. "Thanks for the insight, Teddy." With that, I head back upstairs to my office.

As I sit down at my desk, I try to focus on work, sifting through my emails. It feels surreal to have a legitimate work email address now. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I scroll through, pausing when I see an email from Giovanni. He wants to discuss the upcoming charity fundraiser.

Every year, our family throws a lavish charity event. In the past, it was merely an excuse for mafia families to mingle socially, with the funds never actually reaching those in need. This year, however, Giovanni intends to change that. A spark ignites within me as I realize this might be the perfect opportunity to show Isabella that I truly care and want to set things right.

The next morning, I find Giovanni in his office, looking over paperwork. "Did you sort out your issue with Isabella?" he asks without looking up.

"Sort of," I say. "About the charity fundraiser, we need to pick a cause, right?"

"Yes," he replies, setting down his pen. "Have something in mind?"

"Actually, I do." I take a deep breath. "I'd like to raise money for the Innocence Project."

Giovanni raises an eyebrow. "Why that of all causes?"

"Isabella works on it pro bono," I explain. "I want to support her and her initiatives. Show her how much she means to me."

He studies me for a moment, then nods. "Alright. I hope this works for you."

"Me too, Giovanni. Me too."

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Isabella

The invitation arrives like a dark specter on my doorstep, heavy and embossed with silver filigree. The Maldonado family crest, a proud lion with a crown, graces the front of the black cardstock. I trace its edges, feeling the expectation within its glossy surface.

"Please join us for an elegant evening," I read aloud, my voice quivering. I turn the card over in my hand, and there, dancing across the back in little silver script, is a handwritten note from Primo.

I hope you can attend.

---