Page 22 of Broken Mafia Prince (His to Break #1)

RAFFAELE

I t’s not even one o’clock yet, and I already have the burning urge to shoot something or somebody. A lot of somebodies, if I’m being honest.

Opening this club has been the biggest trial of my patience, and I’ve had to leave my gun in my car some days just so I won’t end up blowing a hole through someone’s head.

One of the biggest problems I’m facing is that I want the club to be fully legal, and it’s incredibly challenging to find investors for a legitimate business owned by a mafioso.

I’ve met people who’ve only been interested in getting a slice of the pie from whatever money washing the club is a front for.

All my attempts to convince investors that the business isn’t meant as a front have failed so far.

The other group of investors only wants to know if my father will be spearheading the project, and as soon as they find out that he won’t be involved at all, they disappear.

Why anyone would want to work with my father over me remains a mystery to me. But then again, it might be my fault for practically taking over the mafia side of business from him and making him look good.

I step out of the club and run a critical eye over the building. A year ago, the building had been an abandoned theatre with a rotting drainage system, cracking walls, and more problems than any single space had the right to have. As soon as I’d set my eyes on it, though, I knew it was the one.

The feeling hadn’t just come from a place of intuition, though; while I am a firm believer in following your gut, I’m also strict about being logical.

So even though the building just felt right, I had to consider the location and if working on it could actually save it, or if it was just a money pit.

What stands before me now is a result of millions of dollars, dedication, and tenacity, and best of all, it’s all mine.

For the first time in my life, I have something that’s completely mine, with no part of my father staining it.

I plan on keeping it that way. I don’t know if my father knows about the club, but there’s no way he wouldn’t have heard about it.

So far, though, he hasn’t brought it up, and neither have I.

If he keeps on pretending it doesn’t exist, we’ll be fine. The moment he tries to mess with it, well, suffice it to say, that’s the day he’ll realize I’m no longer the kid he could hit around.

A glance at my watch reveals that it’s still too early to go pick up Marty from doggy daycare. I hate it when I have to be out of the city and leave him in the hands of others. Even though I give Alessia a generous check to treat my dog like he shits gold, I still worry when he’s away from me.

I decide to get some food to keep me distracted.

I’ve been up since the crack of dawn, making sure that we’re more than ready for opening night, a few days away, and I only just remember that I haven’t eaten all day.

Sliding into my hunter-green Camaro, I step on the gas and gun it to one of my favorite restaurants.

The doorman recognizes me immediately, a smile spreading across his face. “Good day, sir.”

I nod at him in recognition, and his smile grows wider. He knows by now that I’m not one for idle chitchat, so he accepts my nonverbal greeting happily. The restaurant is only half-filled, and to my relief, my favorite table at the very back is free.

From there, I have a clear view of the rest of the room and the door; my back is against the wall, and I’m shrouded in just enough shadow to stay anonymous.

Moments after I’m seated, the redhead who always serves my table appears. She’s told me her name a dozen times, and I’ve instantly forgotten it each time.

“Welcome to Troy’s, would you like the Monday special, or do you want to go through the menu?” she asks cheerfully.

I’m about to reply when my eye catches on a couple across from me.

Then I see her . Giulia.

For a second, the world goes out of focus as those bright eyes stop on mine. I wait for recognition to set, but she barely spares me a glance before shifting her gaze away. It takes me a confused moment to realize that she probably can’t see me from there.

“I’ll have the Monday special,” I tell the server distractedly.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, just water.” The entire time, I’m stuck staring at the brown-haired woman in the pale pink dress. I find myself taking in every inch of her, from the way she’s seated ramrod straight in her chair, to the way she keeps on fussing with her legs.

She looks impatient, and I wonder what that’s about. When I look at her face again, I find her wearing a small, mysterious smile. A sense of awareness tingles at the base of my spine, and I find myself seated at the edge of my chair, holding my breath.

My view is suddenly blocked by a waitress who appears in front of her. A low, annoyed growl rumbles in my chest, and I’m forced to glance over at her date. I already know I won’t like him, but the derisive sneer on his face already fills me with a deep, burning hatred.

He barks something at the server, and she flinches, looking like she might burst into tears any moment. As far as I’m concerned, anyone who has to resort to screaming at service workers is an asshole, and Giulia’s date isn’t just talking down at them; he seems to be enjoying it.

He strikes me as the opposite of her type: pompous, rude, and likes the sound of his own voice a little too much. What the fuck is she doing with a grade-A asshole like that?

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out and swipe without looking at the screen. I regret being so distracted a moment later.

“Raffaele,” my father’s voice comes from over the phone.

I grit my teeth, my mood darkening even further. “Is there a problem?”

“Why am I hearing from Emilio that you had the men delay transport of the products to a week from now?” he hisses. “You have no right to make decisions like that.”

My focus is still on Giulia’s asshole date, and I’m eager to end this call. “After what happened at Las Vegas, we’ve attracted some attention from the Chicago PD, we need to lay low a while or risk losing all our product and falling into shit with the law.”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the cops.”

“I’m not, but?—”

“We’ll go ahead with the transport tomorrow, and whatever problems arise, Emilio will sort them.”

“Your right-hand man isn’t a superhero,” I tell him. “He won’t always be able to slip us out of every cage. At some point, we have to start avoiding getting trapped instead of looking forward to being released.”

My father’s recklessness is legendary, and ever since I got involved in the business, I’ve done a lot of damage control and stopped him from digging us into our own graves.

After the airport shooting, I have no more faith in him ever thinking logically.

I’ll have to bulldoze through his half-baked plans from now on.

Like this one, for example.

“I say we wait,” I continue.

“I say we don’t, and I have the final say.”

“You—” The abrupt silence indicates that he’s hung up already. I’m just about to call him back before he leads men and product straight into the hands of the authority, but at that moment, Giulia’s date begins to choke.

“Here’s your meal, sir.” The redhead appears again. “If there’s anything else I can get you, please don’t hesitate to call for me. My name is?—”

I tune her out, watching as the man turns a startling shade of red, and then an even more startling shade of blue. He grabs at his neck, croaking. I expect to see Giulia looking worried, shocked, scared—anything but the small smile that pulls at one corner of her mouth.

Did she… plan this?

I watch as she raises her spoon to her mouth and begins to calmly eat her food, looking completely unaffected by the man before her, who’s a hairsbreadth from passing out.

The restaurant hums with activity—servers weaving between crowded tables, the clatter of dishes, and the sharp rise of voices as a customer argues about their order at the far end of the room. But not one of them seems to have noticed what is going on yet.

I’m guessing that the fact that the place was busy was another reason Giulia chose it—so people wouldn’t pay much attention to what was happening at their table.

What the hell is going on?

What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall close to them right now.

I can’t even begin to imagine what’s happening at that table, and as if it’s not confusing enough, Giulia pushes to her feet, drags her chair closer to him, drops back into it, and holds a phone out to him, pointing at it, her expression still calm.

My brows furrow as endless possibilities race through my mind. Is she blackmailing him? Has he been blackmailing her with something, and now she’s trying to get him to delete it? That would explain how he managed to get her on this date. Or maybe she’s forcing him to make a bank transfer for her.

I pause on that thought, my gaze running up and down her body again. No, it can’t be about the money. Even though she’s dressed down, I can still tell that her clothes are expensive, and so is the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist and the studs on her ears.

And anyway, I can still clearly remember her tossing my money back at me. That’s not a girl who’s urgently in need of money. So what could possibly be going on?

I watch as the man nods desperately. A look of triumph lights her face, and she pulls out something from her purse. I narrow my eyes at the object when I realize it’s an EpiPen. A little bit of the mystery begins to unravel itself.

It seems little Giulia is far from being the innocent young girl from years past. The woman across from me now has just deviously gotten what she wants by almost killing a man in broad daylight, and I have no doubt she masterminded the entire allergy scheme.

I’m a bit disappointed she didn’t let the asshole die. And anyway, it’s not like she rammed whatever he’s allergic to down his throat; it’s his fault for not being more conscious of what he eats.

The man snatches the EpiPen from her and stabs it into his thigh, his chest rising and falling as he gasps for air. I don’t have to be a lip reader to make out the furious words he spits out a moment later.

“You bitch!”

Fury rushes through me even before the dead bastard’s hand lashes out and wraps around Giulia’s hair, snapping her head back.

She lets out a pained cry that I feel all the way to my bone marrow.

I’m rising to my feet and crossing the room, hands curled into fists at my side before I’ve even had a second to think about it.

It’s pure instinct.

She is in trouble. I’m fucking coming to the rescue. No questions asked.

A slow smile spreads across my face as I march toward their table. It seems I’m finally going to have my opportunity to rip somebody limb from limb today.

Yippy fucking yay!