Page 37 of Broken Mafia Prince (His to Break #1)
RAFFAELE
O ne week later
“I’m out of cigars,” my father says, his tone far too grave for the situation. Then again, he’s been smoking those damn Cuban cigars for as long as I can remember.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without one for more than an hour. I try to recall if there’s ever been a time when he actually ran out. Probably not. I’d bet my ass that cigars hold a prime spot in our monthly household budget.
I wonder what Giulia thinks about the smell of cigars.
I sigh internally, disgusted with myself.
Since I left her with Tommaso a week ago, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’ve been harassing the man I put in charge of watching her for constant updates.
So far, I now know her favorite cafe, the gun range in the city where she takes shooting lessons, and how she licks ice cream like she’s auditioning for a role in a porn production.
That image haunts my head at the most inappropriate times.
The result of which is a lot of sitting around this week, if I don’t want to be walking around with an achingly hard cock.
“Edoardo is no fun when he doesn’t have something hard in his mouth,” one of the men seated around our dinner table jeers, drawing scattered laughter from the other men.
“And you don’t shut up unless your mouth’s stuffed like Thanksgiving turkey,” Father smirks.
We’ve been at this so-called meeting for the past three hours, and so far we’ve only managed to discuss what Paulo’s favorite whiskey brand is, what auctions are happening this summer, and how many horses can fit in my father’s new stables.
Right after Luca’s death and the massive explosive last week, the other families went into defense mode, doubling their security and staying alert.
Things have gradually returned to how they used to be.
My father was suspicious of my involvement in the matter, and I know he questioned my men about it.
Luckily for me, I’d been smart enough to employ an outside gun-for-hire group for the mission.
The only one of my men who knows exactly what went down that day is Tommaso, and I know he’ll never betray me.
I tune back in when I hear Giulia’s name being mentioned, and my senses go on alert, ears pricking in attention. On the exterior though, I’m as cool as ever, tapping my finger in a staccato rhythm on the wooden surface of the table.
“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-out second, 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.
“Get down!” Emilio barks.
I crouch just in time for a bullet to fly past my head. Another of the men is holding up a gun with shaky hands. Before I can shoot the fucker, Emilio does the honors, shooting his signature bullet through the throat.
The study doors fly open, my father’s men rushing in and rounding up the rest of the men.
“Take them all to the dungeon,” I hiss. “I don’t know which of them is in on this and who isn’t.”
“Raffaele, I’d never—” one of the men starts, but he’s cut off when the butt of my gun cracks down on the side of his head.
Shut the hell up.
It’s not uncommon for things like this to happen in our world.
Everyone’s always trying to one-up each other, clawing their way to the top.
From what I can see, this isn’t some carefully planned move.
It’s more like a suicide mission from an outside rival who thought they could brainwash the idiot into doing their dirty work, attacking when our defenses were low.
The smart thing would have been to keep Paulo alive and find out who he was working with, but I’m not in the mood for patience. Sending a message to his conspirators is more important than asking a bunch of questions that’ll only end up in dead ends.
I wave my hand dismissively, silently ordering the men to take them away from my sight.
The paramedics rush in seconds later with a stretcher.
Father has donated a wing to the hospital in the past, so I’m assured that his admission will be as confidential as possible, but still, there’s no doubt that what happened today will spread like wildfire through our world.
“I want someone at his door twenty-four-seven.” I pause. “Two people at his door at all times. Our most trusted men.”
Emilio nods. “I’m assuming you want me to look into what happened here too?” He raises a questioning brow.
“I want everyone here thoroughly tortured until we find out who’s behind this,” I say coldly. “I don’t care if you have to shoot their loved ones one by one in front of them to get a confession or make them talk. I need a lead—whether this is the Syndicate’s doing or if I’m facing a new enemy.”
He nods once, clasping his hands behind his back, his expression grim. “What story are we putting out? If they find out the boss was so easily attacked in his own home, it’ll be catastrophic to our image.”
He’s right. In our world, image is everything. It’s the currency that buys power—favors, trust, loyalty, business deals. Once that image cracks, it all comes crashing down. If the other families smell weakness, they won’t hesitate to move in for the kill. The last thing I need is another war.
“Spin it however you see fit,” I say, dismissing him with a wave. “I don’t have time for damage control.”
The only thing I can focus on is the cold, hard truth: I’m in charge of this family now. And everything rests on me.
In as much as I’ve been the one making most of the underground business decisions, I know that there’s more to being in charge of a family than just making money.
I’m now responsible for more than just my men and their incomes.
The room suddenly feels constricting, and I tug at my collar, sucking in air.
My father is seriously injured. I’ve always known I would take over one day, but if he dies, that day won’t be some distant future anymore—it will be now.
“I’m going for a drive.” I make to walk past the other man, but he grabs my arm before I can walk past him, a serious look on his face.
“You should know, boss,” he begins. “Associating with the Montanari girl is now more taboo than ever. I mean, we already have a lot to face with this assassination attempt. If you were?—”
“Just like my father, Emilio.” I tug my hand away, staring down at him coldly. “I don’t keep you around for you to advise me. Have those names ready for me by evening.”
He nods respectfully. “Of course.”
I march out of the office and out of the house, more agitated than I’ve ever felt in my lifetime. My father’s right-hand man is right, of course; meeting up with Giulia is a risk now. A risk to this entire family, but the pull to see her one last time roars through me.
It’s not a want.
It’s a need.
I need to see her. I need to look at her one last time and engrave every arch and curve of her face into my psyche.
I march to my car and drop into the driver’s seat, reaching for my phone.
I tell myself I shouldn’t. I tell myself I should stay away.
One more time won’t change anything; it’ll just make me want it yet another time.
It’s better just to cut her off cold turkey. My hands, however, disagree. Of their own volition, my fingers navigate the phone screen and pause at her number. My thumb hovers over the call button for what seems like forever.
Finally, I press down on it. And wait.
Her voice filters from the phone after two rings. “What do you want?”
I squeeze my eyes shut in pleasure and agony, realizing that I’ve made a grave mistake, because one last time won’t be enough for me. When it comes to her, only everything will ever be enough.