Page 81 of Heartless Mafia Prince

Ryah gulped her drink. “My grandfather was upset with my dad for getting my mother pregnant. Now his half-breed granddaughter will inherit his mafia throne.”

I clenched my fist. “What do you mean? Are you saying he hates black people?”

“Yes, Rocco. I think he’s grown to love me, but before I existed, he didn’t like black people. And before you say it, yes, he has black people on his staff, but he doesn’t have any black friends.”

“He’s fucked up in the head for having that mentality.” I shook my head.

“I know.”

“You know what’s crazy?”

She stared at me. “What?”

“Jeremiah is the most trusted friend I have. He’s the only guy I’d tell about our life. Easton and Briar are cool, but Jeremiah is my most trusted confidant outside of our world.”

A big, beautiful smile brightened her face. “I like him, too. He’s really cool. And I’m not just saying that because he’s black. He genuinely kicks it with you because of the cool guy you are.”

“Thanks, baby.” I rubbed her knee, then tipped the glass at my lips, swallowing the harsh contents.

“Back to my dad and Mel.”

“You’re calling her by her nickname now?”

“Only because I’m upset. She flips out every time he does anything with Rosetta. I hate that my dad couldn’t just be with us. It’s like deep down I know he wanted a normal family life. If we go on vacation. It has to be in secret. It’s a vacation disguised as a business trip and its always in another country.” Tears welled in her eyes.

She quickly blinked them away.

I tugged her into my arms. “Your dad loves you. You are the most important person in his life.” My lips lingered along her hair line.

“Just so you know, once we get married and have kids, my family will love them wholeheartedly. My grandfather always had friends of different nationalities. I never understood how Italians could treat another race of people poorly. We’re immigrants, too.”

Ryah sat back. “Don’t mention marriage or babies. We don’t know if it’s in the cards for us.”

Her sharp words stung.

My lips pressed against hers. “And we don’t know that it’s not in the cards either.”

She nodded.

“I want to talk to you about something else.”

“What’s up?”

“The day we spoke outside the gym, that was the first time you wore your heart on your sleeve.”

Her brows lowered. “First time?”

“Yeah, I told you I loved you that night at gun practice. I told you again at my cousins. The point is, I’ve told you several times to your one and a half times.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Rocco, you didn’t tell me that first night. I pulled it out of you.”

Ryah shook her head, then walked toward the bar with her empty glass in hand.

I leaned my head back and slipped my fingers through my inky black strands. The woman just laughed at me. Me!

“Rocco, you love me because I punched you in the nose when we were seven,” she yelled across the room.

“Ryah, that sounds crazy.”

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