Page 62 of Broken Mafia Prince (His to Break #1)

GIULIA

“ H as Raffaele mentioned how he plans to stop his father?”

My fork freezes halfway to my mouth, and I turn to stare at my cousin. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “You know. He told you about Edoardo’s plan to ruin your family by fucking with the shipment and gave you some assurances that he’s going to keep you safe.”

My eyebrows furrow. “Well, y-yeah. I don’t get what you’re driving at, Isa.”

She glances over at the door to make sure nobody is coming and leans forward. “Did he actually say he’s going to stop his father, or did he only say he’s not going to let anything happen to you? Because there’s a difference. I hope you know that.”

I stare at her, puzzled.

With an eye roll, she says, “Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe he loves you. Which, don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy for you about that.”

“But?” I prompt impatiently.

“But loving you and wanting to keep you safe has nothing to do with your father and your family,” Isa points out. “I’m sorry to say this, but getting rid of your father might even be the perfect opportunity he’s been waiting for to claim you publicly.”

I shake my head, chuckling. “How do you even always manage to think up the most horrible of all the worst-case scenarios?”

“You’re too excited and in love to think logically. Someone has to.” She points a thumb at herself. “I’m that someone.”

I raise another forkful of cheesy macaroni to my mouth. “What does he care about claiming me publicly? We are leaving, remember?”

“What if you’re not?”

“Jesus Christ, Isabella.” Annoyance bleeds from my voice, but she remains unperturbed.

“Look at it this way. Raffaele grew up under his father’s thumb, became successful running the business and being part of the crime world.

Obviously, some of that Montanari hate would have gotten to him, too.

You show up, beautiful, perfect, everything he has ever wanted.

He knows that openly warring against your family won’t get him any brownie points?—”

“Brownie points, really?”

My cousin waves her hand to dismiss my question. “So, what does he do? He tells you that his father is planning a whole bunch of things to destroy yours.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “And why would he do that?”

“To look like the good guy. Duh.” Isa pins me with a look.

“Which is obviously working. Meanwhile, he works with his father to destroy the shipment, ruin your family, and get rid of your father, all while pinning it on the horrible Edoardo Gagliardi. It’s a win-win: He gets the girl and finally destroys his enemies. ”

My stomach sours, appetite completely gone. “He’s not like that. He’s not playing two sides, Isa. He’d never do that; he’s loyal and honest.”

At that, one of her eyebrows hikes up. “If you believe him, doesn’t that mean that he’s betraying and lying to his family? A family he’s known all his life, by the way.”

I go still, bile rushing up my stomach, all the lovely mac and cheese I’ve just eaten threatening to make a second appearance. Oh god. “It’s different!”

“Because his family is evil and you’re good?

” She snorts. When she sees the stricken expression on my face, her tone gentles.

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to look out for you.

You know that, right? I just want you to see all of this from every possible point of view.

You’re about to take the biggest risk of your life, and if you miscalculate this, you could end up losing everything. ”

“I know what’s at stake,” I insist.

Her gaze turns pitying. “Do you really? You’re choosing the side of a man you barely even know over your family.”

The thing is, even though I’ve only known Raffaele for a short amount of time, it feels like I’ve known him my whole life.

I know it sounds cliche, but it’s the truth.

I feel like I know him down to his bone marrow, his sense of justice, his loyalty, his kindness, how smart and intuitive he is, how thoughtful.

He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. I know he wouldn’t.

He’s in love with you, not your father , a voice says in my head. Listen to your cousin. She’s the only one between you two who’s actually thinking.

I ruthlessly shut the voice up. I can’t start thinking like that when I’m so close to the end, so close to achieving everything with the man I love. I have to trust that Raffaele is who he says he is.

But it doesn’t change the fact that doubts are beginning to creep in, despite my best efforts.

I desperately want to go back to the Giulia of half an hour ago, who had a hundred percent faith in Raffaele.

“I just want you to know that if he’s actually playing both sides, and he hurts you, I’ll use every connection I have to destroy him,” my cousin says in a hard voice. “I won’t stand to see you shattered by another asshole.”

I offer her a shaky smile. “I’ve always known I was your favorite cousin. Thank you.”

She blows a kiss in my direction and I make a show of catching it and tucking it into the neckline of my shirt. Just then, my phone buzzes with a text. I grab my lunch and carry it over to the kitchen counter to transfer it into a Tupperware container and shelf it in the fridge.

“You’re not going to eat that later. Could have just tossed it in the trash,” Isa says from behind me.

“Says who?” I unlock the screen of my phone.

She starts to reply, saying something about how it’s one of my bad habits, but I’m not listening. My entire attention is on the text on my screen. It’s from an unknown number, but it doesn’t take too much thinking to know that it’s from Raffaele.

Make sure you stay away from the docks. It’s not safe.

I stare at the text, reading it over and over again. My new paranoia is trying to pick out any subtext from the simple text, even as the part of me that still trusts me tells me to let it go. It feels like Isa’s words have fractured me in two, leaving me conflicted.

On one hand, the text looks like he’s trying to keep me safe, which I’d expect from him of course, but he could also be trying to keep me away from witnessing the truth. What if he actually has no plans of helping us, and instead harms my father out there? The truth is that I’d never know.

He’d come back to me and tell me my father died in the war, despite him trying his best to save him. He’d offer me comfort, and I’d take it eagerly, grateful to him for doing his best. Grateful to the enemy.

I can feel a headache pounding, and my vision is starting to spin already.

For so long, I’ve doubted everything good in this life, I’ve been so cynical and wary, and I really thought I was done with that.

I want to trust Raffaele, but my cousin makes several good points.

Points that I’d have thought to bring up if I wasn’t so in love.

In my defense, though, how am I supposed to think of betrayal and motive with his hands and mouth on me when I can barely even remember my own name?

Another thought strikes me: Has he purposely been keeping me distracted? All that talk about keeping the outside world where it belongs when we’re together—has it been a tactic? Have I been stupid and delusional?

I feel sick at the thought that I may have just handed myself and my father to the hands of a master player.

Shaking my head, I try to dispel the negative thoughts. I trust him, he loves me, he wouldn’t do this. There’s not a single manipulative bone in his body. He’s not like that.

Not manipulate? The voice in my head makes another appearance. What do you call paying off your ex-fiancé then?

That was for my own good , I argue.

Your father has brought you nothing but heartache, maybe Raffaele thinks getting rid of him will also be for your own good.

You’re wrong.

Am I?

“Shut up!” I snap.

“I didn’t say anything.” Isa glances around her, confused.

Damn it. Am I really arguing with an imaginary voice in my head? This entire situation has driven me to the brink of madness and back. I scrub a hand over my face, trying to arrange my thoughts into something logical.

At that moment, I hear my father screaming at someone. My legs carry me forward before I’ve even had time to think about it, and I find myself approaching him where he’s standing at the foot of the stairs, checking his watch every few seconds.

“Where the hell is Elio?” he snaps. “He’s fired after today.”

The long-awaited shipment arrived a few hours ago, and if I thought my father was agitated this entire time waiting for it, he’s even worse now that it’s here.

He looks like he’s aged ten years since earlier today when he got news of its arrival.

He’s set up measures for everything that can possibly go wrong, but none of it has succeeded in putting him at ease.

He glances over at me. “What?”

“I’ll drive you to the docks since Elio’s not available.”

“No,” he announces, marching away from me in the direction of the front door.

I rush after him, swiping my jacket from the coat hanger. “Yes. I’ll feel better knowing that you have the best shooter in the city at your side, in case anything goes wrong.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” he spits, green eyes flashing.

I don’t point out that if he actually believed that, he wouldn’t be strung up tighter than a violin. “You need all the hands you can get, and I’m more capable than most of the men you have on the ranks anyway.”

I’m surprised when he nods a second later. “Let’s go.”

My stomach cramps with nerves, hands clammy as I pick up the keys to the SUV. Around me, the men are running around, doing last-minute preparations. Raffaele’s warning comes to mind again as I climb behind the wheel of the car.

It’s not too late for me to step out of the vehicle and hand the keys over to someone else. Father is particular about who drives him, and he hasn’t touched a steering wheel since that day at the cliffs, but I’m sure he can make do with one of the other men.

I have a bad feeling about today, one I can’t shake.

I’m not sure if it’s Isa’s words, Raffaele’s warning, or my father’s paranoia, or perhaps a combination of all three.

I have to know for myself if Raffaele can be trusted, and if he’s actually playing both sides, he’ll have to go through me to get to my father.

My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I navigate us through the wrought iron gate.

Even though there are two other cars in front of us and one behind, each one with at least four of my father’s soldiers, I still feel naked, like an easy target.

“All those who’ve ever looked down on us are going to eat their words after today,” Papa crows. “I’m going to wipe those Gagliardi scum off the face of the earth.”

I ignore him, eyes shifting to the rearview mirror and then the side mirror for the millionth time. Sweat beads down my spine, a bitter taste of foreboding at the back of my tongue.

Something’s wrong.

Something’s very wrong.