Page 21 of Broken Prince

Matteo Genovese, a king among men…literally. He was originally sent to the US eighteen years ago as a dignitary by the Italian families to monitor us, the US families. He was here to ensure we followed the basic rules of the original families, but he didn’t meddle in the family feuds; he didn’t care who lived or died. He was above the laws, aboveourlaws. He was the Tin Man, a cruel king with eyes as pale blue as the ice around his heart, who killed with a certain triviality that made even the most violent made man uncomfortable.

Nobody angered or disrespected Genovese and got out with all of their teeth…or fingers, but I was past the point of caring. Most days I would welcome death as a blessing, a reprieve, and the torture he might do to me? It wouldn’t have been a first and it would only be physical pain, nothing as horrendous as the mental pain I felt constantly.

I sighed. Death? How sweet would it be?

Dom cocked his head to the side. “Why don’t you just put a bullet through your brain and be done with it.” His words were harsh, but his flaring nostrils, set jaw, and the quiet desperation in his eyes showed he didn’t mean it.

I traced my induction tattoo over my black T-shirt almost subconsciously and traced from memory the rosary that was wrapped around the dagger on my chest with the single word on top of it—‘Omerta.’ The rosary represented God—the irony of it was not amiss to me but somehow despite everything, a little part of me still believed there was a God up there, an avenging God on a mission to punish me every step of the way for sending home, much too early, two of his most extraordinary angels. And I knew that, if there was even a minuscule chance I’d see them again, suicide would take that away for good.

I shook my head. “I won’t call him.”

Dom shook his head. “He said he tried to call you a few times. Luca, we both know Matteo doesn’t call for a chat.”

I was getting irritated now. Dom was acting like a parent; I felt chastised and it rubbed me the wrong way. “As I said,” I said the words slowly, evenly. “Matteo Genovese can. Go. Fuck. Himself.”

He’d been beyond cruel with me after the accident, something I should have expected based on his ‘Cruel King’ nickname and yet.

My father had petitioned to disown me—despite being his only heir. He’d rather lose control of the famiglia than allow me to lead, but Matteo refused for a reason that remains a mystery, and then three weeks later my father was killed in an attack at his favorite restaurant—killing him, the East Coast capo and their two consiglieri.

Once my father had been gone, much to my relief I had to admit, I requested for my title, capo of the Montanari famiglia, to be transferred permanently to my uncle. A formality really, nobody wanted me… Fuck,Ididn’t want me, but again fucking Genovese, the thorn in my side, refused, stating I was not in the right state of mind to pass my title permanently and that he would revisit the issue at a later time.

Maybe he was ready to let me go now… No, of course not. He was a fucking sadist.

“Thanks for the message.”

Dom nodded, standing up, understanding that I was dismissing him. “You’re not going to call him, are you?”

I snorted. “Of course not.”

He sighed, looking heavenward. “You won’t be able to avoid him forever.”

I gave him a mocking grin. “Watch me try.”

“The more you make him wait, the angrier he’ll get,” Dom continued.

“If I wanted life lessons, Domenico, I’ll call someone, anyone…but you.” I had already been in a foul mood when I’d woken up then all this stupid family drama and Matteo… Dom needed to leave me alone with all his concern and wise words. “You’re not my consigliere. You’re the son of—”

His face morphed from weariness to pure anger. “Don’t fucking say it, Montanari.” He pointed an accusing finger at me. “I get it, you’re hurt, you hate yourself, but don’t make me hate you too, and if you say it—there won’t be any turning back.”

I should have said it—truly, I should have.You’re the son of a serial rapist.But I couldn’t because despite everything, having him here made it suck less. His unwavering loyalty meant so much more to me than I was ready to admit to him and even to myself.

“Just go, Dom,” I said somberly. “I’ll deal with Matteo the way I see fit.”

Dom nodded. “As you want. We both know how productive it is to avoid your problems. Never would have pegged you as a coward and yet, here we are.”

He didn’t even give me the time to process his words and he was gone, and my mood went from bad to absolutely horrendous in 0.3 seconds.

Fuck them all.

Chapter Eight

CASSIE

Have dinner with me tonight.

I read the message four times. We’d indeed been talking daily but that was a big step I hadn’t expected.

I decided to cook something special and use the notebook I found in a kitchen cabinet. It was all written in Italian, not a language I spoke, but it seemed to be a family recipe book. There were food stains in it, some erasures and smudges for trials and errors. It was a work of love.

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