Page 57 of Broken Mafia Prince (His to Break #1)

GIULIA

“ G iulia, come in, sit down. I hope you’re hungry.”

I glance from my father’s relaxed expression to the dinner setting.

What the hell is going on, and why does it feel like an obvious trap? The text I got from Father this morning, telling me to come home for an important conversation, is already suspicious enough. Walking into a lunch setting is pinging all my warning bells, and I hesitate.

“What’s going on?” I ask. I can’t remember the last time we sat down together to have a meal. I spent so much of my youth begging him to join me at the table, to be a family with me again. It’s a little too late for us to be one small, happy family.

“What does it look like?” He spreads his hand out in a gesture that encompasses the room. “I’m about to have lunch with my daughter.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Seriously, what the hell is going on? And don’t give me this lunch bullshit. We both know I’m not here because of food and wine.”

His mouth quirks up at the corners, and it only raises my suspicion.

“Well?” I ask.

“Sit down.” This time around, there’s an unmistakable order in his voice, and I obey instinctively. Just as soon as I’m seated, a door to the side opens, and uniformed servants walk in carrying platters of food and an expensive bottle of wine.

“There’s to be an event this Saturday and you’re going to attend, dressed to the nines and on your best behavior,” Father says, picking up his glass and holding it out to be filled.

“What event? I didn’t know we were celebrating anything.” In fact, I hadn’t expected my father to be in any sort of cheerful mood after he found out that his deal with the Ferraras had crumbled to dust.

He takes his time swirling his drink around and sipping before he responds. “There’s always a reason to celebrate, Giulia. Anyway, this time around, we’re simply hosting Barlowe’s wedding reception party.”

I blink at him. “I didn’t think we were so hard-pressed for money that we’re turning our home into an event space.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that. It’s a favor to a friend. The land used to belong to the bride’s family—some sentimental bullshit about an ancestor getting married under the willow trees. Plus, it’s a chance to secure alliances and have him on our side for political affairs.”

I thought it was sweet, but judging from the scowl on my father’s face, it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. I clear my throat. “Who’s the favor for?”

“Senator Barlowe.”

I search my brain for any memory of a man with that name, but the only Barlowe I can recall is a stout man in his early seventies who married a Spanish actress less than five years ago. I remember the entire ceremony making me feel sick as the creepy old man kept pawing at the pretty woman.

“I didn’t know Mr. Barlowe had a son,” I say with some surprise.

“He doesn’t,” he replies.

I recoil. “He’s getting married again?”

“Fourth time is the charm, I guess.” He raises a forkful of pasta to his mouth. “The actress’s car ran off a bridge. It was a sad day for Barlowe after the death of his beloved wife.”

I don’t comment. Neither of us actually believes that Barlowe wasted a second thinking about his Spanish actress. I hum.

“As you already know, Barlowe has a lot of important political connections, and his choosing to throw his party here is a good first step in getting through the door.”

I’m not surprised that my father is thinking of how to use this event to further his ambition; what I don’t understand is why he’s put on this entire show of having lunch together to try and rope me into his plans.

“If you need money for a dress for the party or?—”

“I’ll be fine,” I cut him off. “I can get myself a dress.”

“Good.” He nods. “Maybe something red. You’re your mother’s daughter at the end of the day; you just need to show a little bit of interest, and by the end of the night, I’m sure we’ll have found a replacement for the Ferrara boy.”

Everything suddenly makes sense, and my stomach sours. I stare at my father with disbelief. “Of course. Why did I think I was here for any other reason than being used as a chip on your bargaining board?”

“Come now, Giulia,” he says sternly. “We all have our duties, and this is yours.”

“You can quit while you’re ahead and save yourself the trouble,” I spit.

“I’m not interested in your matchmaking, especially to Barlowe’s associates.

” Even though Craig Barlowe is an American senator, has been one for years, and comes from a long political line, he’s still one of the sleaziest, most corrupt men I know, and his associates will be no better.

“Your duty to this family?—”

“I don’t owe this family anything,” I tell him in a hard voice.

Brackets form at the sides of his mouth. “This isn’t the time to be stubborn. We must present a united front to the other families. Especially those fucking Gagliardis.”

I’m getting ready to stand up and walk right out of the house when my brain registers what he’s just said. “Th-the Gagliardis are going to be there?”

“It’s all business. The Senator can’t afford to show that he’s taking sides in the family feud or risk losing the deals he has with those rat bastards. Additionally, we need the Senator’s help to clear a very important shipment.”

His mouth twists with anger.

“Damn it! Of all the ideas Senator Barlowe has had in his lifetime, inviting the Gagliardis to the Montanari estate rates the lowest,” he snarls.

“How can I let those animals inside my home? Let them eat my food and drink my wine? The mere thought makes me want to murder something. I’ve doubled our security and have the senator’s word that Gagliardi’s people won’t try anything foolish during his wedding reception. ”

I tune out the rest of his furious rant; the only thing on my mind is that Raffaele will be here, in my home.

Does he know about this? It’s not like him being under my roof makes any difference.

I won’t even be able to interact with him without causing a blowout, and there will be too much scrutiny on us to do anything but show the expected enmity.

“Father,” I say carefully. “You know, this might just be the perfect opportunity to make peace with them.”

His face tightens. “Make peace with them? Those bastards don’t deserve peace or our forgiveness.”

I scoff. “What have they done? You and Edoardo have both done your fair share to each other. Isn’t it high time you call it equal and put this entire matter to rest?

And what better time is there than at a wedding party happening under our own roof?

One conversation with them could fix all of this.

How aren’t you tired of the constant war, the plotting, the scheming, the hate, the losses, all of it?

How can you continue to watch our men lose their lives? ”

“All the lives already lost would be for nothing if I give up now.”

“You’re not giving up!” I throw my hands up in the air. “You’re saving the lives of others who could die in the course of this stupid feud.”

He stares at me through unreadable eyes. “On second thought, you should wear pastel for the party. We don’t want you looking like you’re selling anything other than your hand in marriage.”

My stomach rolls at his words, bile rushing up my throat. “You’re disgusting.”

“See you Saturday.”

This time around, I don’t hesitate to spin on my heel and rush out of the house. If there was any doubt about my decision to elope with Raffaele, it’s definitely gone now in the face of my father’s callous words.

I’ll be at this fucking wedding party, but not for him, and he’d better not make any moves to steer me in the direction of Senator Barlowe’s slimy pals.

Isabella wolf-whistles when I turn around to face her. “Your father is going to have a cardiac arrest when he sees you. Are you sure about this?”

I turn back to the full-length mirror and smooth the front of the dress. The rose-gold silk dress hugs every curve of my body and trails off in a delicate train. It’s decent enough from the front, with a high cowl neck and full coverage. The back, however, is a different matter.

I peek over my shoulder at the non-existent back and swallow nervously. I’m not all that worried about what my father will think; he can go to hell and stay there. The nerves and excitement warring inside me are because of Raffaele. He won’t like this.

This past week with him has made me realize how possessive he is about me. I’ve had a lot of fun poking at his boundaries, and I know I’m playing with fire by wearing this. But then again, we’re going to be surrounded by family, so what could he possibly do?

“You’re blushing,” Isa suddenly points out.

“It’s hot in here.” I make a show of fanning myself.

My cousin throws her head back, laughing. “Sell that crap to someone else, ’cause I’m not buying it. You know, I never took you for a tease.”

I gape at her. “I’m not a tease.”

“Like I didn’t see you picking out a thong earlier.” She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t I teach you the value of chastity until marriage? I’m so disappointed. You’ve failed me, child.”

I giggle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Keep it in your panties until you say your I do’s.” She wags her finger at me.

“Hmm.” I grab my clutch from the bed and toss my lipstick into it, heading for the door. I glance over my shoulder and wink at her. “But I’m not wearing any.”

The last thing I see before I shut the door behind me is her jaw dropping open in shock.

I haven’t been able to keep my hands off Raffaele since we got together, and I don’t know if today will be any different. Sneaking off with him is a bad move with so many people around and all the attention on the rival families.

Isa is right about me being a tease, because I have every intention of making my fiancé swear and sweat.

The thought of him sitting with a throbbing erection while acting like he has no idea who I am excites me way more than it should, but I also can’t wait until we’re married and never have to hide again.