Page 28 of Broken Mafia Prince (His to Break #1)

RAFFAELE

N o matter how much I command my brain to figure out the Echelon Syndicate’s motives and how my father plays into it, I still find myself thinking about the kiss. The kiss that should never have happened. The kiss that’s easily the best damn kiss I’ve had in my life.

What was I thinking?

Giulia’s face should be beside the definition of off limits in 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 what you want,” 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 hatred alive.

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!”

My mind flashes to the pendant, but before I can say anything about it, he continues speaking.

“You think you can trust them? You think that I’m paranoid when I say we have to get rid of them before they get rid of us?

I’m not. I don’t trust the Syndicate, but if they can help us, then we need to consider this. ”

The Echelon Syndicate isn’t a volunteer group or a charity organization. Their help won’t come for free, and it won’t come cheap. That is, if their help is actually what my father thinks it is.

“Concentrate on your little club,” he says, his mouth curving into a knowing smile. “Leave everything else to me.”

Of course, he knows. Keeping things from Edoardo is next to impossible.

I don’t trust the Montanaris, either. A part of me—loyal to my family, to our side of the feud—wants to see them crushed. Reduced to nothing. But another part, the one that won’t let go of Giulia, knows I can’t just stand by and watch her get caught in the crossfire.

“Tell me something,” I ask carefully, locking eyes with my father. “Did you have something to do with the accident?”

He doesn’t need me to specify which accident. From the slight hardening of his eyes, I can tell he knows exactly what I’m talking about—the one that no doubt changed the Montanaris’ lives forever. His jaw tightens, and his gaze turns cold.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, his voice quieter now but firm.

“For damn once in your life, be truthful,” I snap, my voice rising despite myself. “Is that why the Montanari hate us? Why Enrico hates us? Because you caused the accident that killed half his family?”

“Didn’t I say you should focus on your club?” A clear warning rings in his voice. One I choose to ignore.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s as much of an answer as I’m going to give you,” he replies. “Don’t go digging up graves, Raffaele. You’ll only find rot down there.”

I shake my head, a short, humorless laughter puffing out of my throat. “I’d rather find rot than not know what’s under there at all.”

Without waiting for a response, I spin on my heel and burst out of the room.

I retrace my steps from almost an hour ago until I’m outside the house and headed for the garage.

I’ll give instructions later to have the stolen car destroyed or left to sink, but for now, I make my way to the black Dodge Challenger sitting in the far corner of the parking space.

I swipe the keys from where they hang on the wall and jump into the car. Pressing my foot down on the accelerator, I tear out of the garage and the house, turning the car in the direction of my favorite club in the city. I dig out my phone from my pocket and dial a number.

“Raffaele,” a woman’s husky voice sounds through the phone’s speaker.

The voice that used to excite me now sounds grating to my ear. I wince. “Where are you? Can you be at the Little Palace in twenty?”

“Are you wearing a tie?” she asks.

“Black shirt, no tie.”

Serena lets out a low moan. “I’ll be there in half that time, darling.”

Our relationship is based on mutual interest and a need to scratch an itch.

She’s seven years older than me, with the body and allure of a siren.

Sex with her is always mind-blowing, and she’ll be the perfect distraction for the mess going on in my head at the moment.

I’m sure that after a few mutual orgasms, I’ll have expelled Giulia from my thoughts and be free to think more deeply and clearly about the issue with the Syndicate.

The Little Palace is one of the more reserved clubs around, offering private rooms for overnight guests. I have a long-standing room in the club, where Serena and I have met often throughout the course of our relationship.

When I walk into our room, the redheaded bombshell is reclining on the snowy white sheets in a black, lacy lingerie piece. Her mouth lifts into a smile at the sight of me, and she rises to her feet, arms spread out wide.

“Darling,” she sighs happily, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her whole body into me. “I’ve missed you.”

I drag my hands over her curves, a faint stirring inside me.

She raises her head, and our mouths clash in a familiar kiss.

I wait for the wild heat that swept through me hours ago to make another entrance, but there’s nothing.

The kiss is familiar and yet… not. I find myself comparing it to Giulia’s untrained exuberance, and to my utmost surprise, I find it lacking.

I pull my mouth away, panting and wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.

There’s no way I’m actually finding Serena lacking.

She’s the sort of woman who makes heads turn, male and female alike.

She’s sexy, confident, and has a sexual appetite that almost rivals mine, while Giulia is a smartass eighteen-year-old who’s promised to end my bloodline if I ever kiss her again.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Nothing.” I offer her a smile and fist the back of her hair, pulling her to me again. This time, I slant my mouth over hers with desperation, and she responds immediately, opening her mouth for me and letting out a porn-worthy moan, nothing like Giulia’s soft, surprised gasps.

The scent of her perfume wafts into my nose, and a sense of wrongness fills me. Tearing my mouth away, I stagger back, staring at her but not seeing her. All I can see is brown hair, hazel eyes, and a mouth that is permanently pursed in displeasure at the sight of me.

“I have to go,” I tell Serena.

She raises an eyebrow. “Performance anxiety? Don’t worry, I can get you up if you want.”

“I’ll call you sometime.” I step forward, brush a kiss against her temple, and hightail it out of the room. My shoulders are tight with frustration, and I’m furious.

I don’t know what she’s done to me, but whatever it is, I need to cure myself of it.

The first step to doing that is getting to the bottom of this thing with my father and the Syndicate.

I need to find a way to expose the fact that the Syndicate is playing us all like pawns on their master board, and our fathers are blindly playing along.

I know what I’m about to do is dangerous. They’ll never let me get away with exposing them like that. Whatever their plot is, they’ll never let anyone stand in their way. Which means if I’m going to do this, I have to find a way to do it while still keeping her safe.

I drag both hands through my hair and raise my face to the sky outside the club, feeling like my entire anatomy has been rearranged. How have I gone from only caring about my survival in this world to caring about hers, too?

I shouldn’t care about her at all. I really fucking shouldn’t.

And yet, I do.