Page 15 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

GIULIA

T he morning is already off to a chaotic start—steam hissing from the iron, crumbs still on the table, and my nerves stretched taut like a violin string.

“Have you seen my wallet?” Marco calls out from the bedroom. I can hear him rifling through his luggage.

“Have you checked on top of the fridge?” I call back while hurriedly ironing Noemi’s dress.

A soft knock rattles the back window. I pause, iron hovering mid-stroke.

Probably just a bird or the wind, but something about the sharp, deliberate tap raises the hairs on my arms. I glance out, but the glass reflects nothing but my face.

For some reason, my daughter refuses to wear anything that isn’t pressed to perfection. She must get it from Raffaele, who likes to be the picture of control.

Behind me, I hear Marco making his way to the kitchen. “Found it, thanks.”

“It’s twenty-six minutes to eight. Are you sure you’re going to make it?” I ask him. “You really should have opted for a later flight.”

“I’m done already. I just need to toss my toothbrush in, and I’m ready to go.”

My eyes fall to his bare feet. “You’re not wearing socks yet.”

He follows my gaze to his own feet, then bites out a curse, racing back into the room. I hear my daughter giggle from the doorway.

“Baby, you need to get dressed,” I tell her. “I’m supposed to open the shop today, and I’m running super late.”

“I don’t want to go to school today,” she pouts, blinking big blue eyes up at me. “I’m going with Uncle Marco.”

“No, you’re not,” I snap. “You’re starting to piss me off.” I hold out the dress to her. “Get dressed and grab your bag. You’re going to be late.”

Her bottom lip starts to tremble. “But I wanna go with Uncle Marco.”

“You don’t want to stay with me anymore?”

“There’s a lady in the woods who says Italy has prettier birds. She said I’d like it there.”

I frown. “What lady?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. She waved at me when I was playing by the back trees. She smiled like she knew me.”

A chill dances up my spine, but I force a smile. “You’ve got a wild imagination, you know that?”

“I’m not lying,” she mutters. “Come with us. Uncle Marco says you’ll love his town. There are thousand-year-old buildings, gelato, and real pizza.”

“Uncle Marco has a life there, a job and a family,” I tell her as softly as I can. “We have our own life here. Now stop all this talk about leaving. Get dressed. Now!”

“No!” she screams, running off.

I press the bridge of my nose, trying to fight off the headache that’s beginning to pulse at the side of my skull.

I don’t have the energy to fight with my daughter—not today.

She’s been making her plans to go back to Italy with Marco clear from day one, but I thought she was just being sentimental.

“Are you all right?”

I open my eyes slowly and meet Marco’s concerned ones. He finally has his socks on, and his shoes are loosely held in one hand. I can’t believe it’s been two weeks already. Where did the time go?

It feels like just yesterday I walked into Noemi’s school and nearly had a heart attack when they told me her father had picked her up. Having him here has been amazing—I’ve finally had some time for myself.

Watching how incredible he is with Noemi makes me question everything, especially my decision to keep her away from Chicago and Raffaele.

Am I letting another man take his place?

Am I allowing her to form a bond, to see the three of us as a family, just because I’m too much of a coward to tell her the truth?

And in doing so, am I robbing Raffaele of the chance to be the father he could be?

But then there’s the deeper fear…

What if he isn’t a good father at all? What if I go back to Chicago and find that Raffaele has become exactly what we both swore we’d never be—a mirror of the men we were raised by?

“No,” I confess. “Noemi’s still insisting on following you to Italy, and I have no idea how to deal with that.”

“I’ll talk to her,” he tells me.

“I can’t continue letting you always fix things for me,” I sigh. “I’m her mother. I should?—”

“Hey, hey, look at me, Ariel.”

I raise my head and meet his eyes.

Part of me can’t even be mad at Noemi for acting out—I know I’d do the same if I were in her shoes. I’m not ready to say goodbye to him either. But I’m doing everything I can to keep it together, to put on a brave face.

“Do you really have to go?” I blurt out with a small, embarrassed smile.

“Kinda.” He smiles back.

I sigh, and when he steps forward, I don’t hesitate to press into his chest, allow myself to relax in his hold and take whatever comfort I can find. We stand like that for endless minutes, his fingers running up and down my back soothingly.

“We should both go talk to her,” he eventually says, and I agree.

“She’s probably building a pillow fort under the dining table and sulking right now,” I say.

His chest rumbles with a laugh. Just as we pull away from each other to start heading to the living room, the sound of a knock echoes through the house. I glance up at Marco in surprise. “Are we expecting anyone?”

“Mrs. Amato mentioned during dinner last night that she’d be baking a farewell cake,” he says as his phone starts buzzing. He pulls it out distractedly. “It’s probably Paolo bringing it—maybe that’s him at the door.” He steps back toward the hallway. “Can you get it? I need to take this call.”

“Go take your call. I’ll check it out.”

“Just—check the peephole first, okay?” he says quickly, glancing at the door with a furrowed brow before answering the call.

I hurry over to the front door and press my eye to the door hole. The woman knocking is unfamiliar. I sift through my memory for any hint of who she is and come up blank.

“Anyone home?” she calls.

I open the door just a crack. “Hello.”

“Hello.” The woman flashes me a bright smile. “Good morning, dear. I’m Nelly. I just moved into the house at the edge of the woods, close to the chapel.”

“Oh, really?” I say excitedly. “That house has been empty forever. It’s so cute too.”

“I know, right?” she says, clearly pleased.

The woman looks to be in her mid-thirties—brown hair, brown eyes, a plain blue dress with damp patches clinging to the fabric.

“Did you fall or something?” I ask, gesturing toward her dress.

She sighs. “Or something. You won’t believe that I was trying to turn on the kitchen pipes, and it suddenly burst and spilled water everywhere. The owner of the house assured us that everything was in perfect condition too.”

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “You’re probably here for the plumber’s number?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Nelly says with a small smile. “My husband accuses me of being careless, and I’d rather avoid having a fight about it today when he gets back in the evening. I don’t mean to be careless. I’m a little clumsy, mind you, but I swear, I have the worst luck.”

Laughing, I open the door wider. “Come on in.”

Now that Sienna’s married with her twins, she’s more occupied than ever, and sometimes I can’t muster enough energy to go all the way to the Amatos’ house for dinner.

I’m grateful to Marco for leaving us his house, but without him here, it becomes very clear that the house is quite isolated from the rest of the town.

Nelly seems nice and funny, and I’m sure we’ll get along well.

And honestly, I’ll feel much safer knowing someone is close by in case of emergencies.

“Give me a minute, let me grab my phone. His contact is in there.”

Her shoulder drops with relief. “Thank heavens. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Just happy to help.” I grin at her before hurrying into the house to grab my phone.

“Who is it?” Marco asks, stepping out of his room.

“Turns out, we have a new neighbor.” I snatch my phone from the table excitedly. “Hey, can you help Noemi get dressed while I sort her out?”

“Sure.”

I make my way back to the foyer where I left Nelly but I still when I see that she’s no longer standing there. Confused, I step out the house, glancing either way in search of Nelly.

“Nelly?” I call.

A cool breeze floats over me, and goosebumps rise up on my skin. I make a mental note to dress Noemi in her sweater. I step back into the house and shut the door, nearly running into Marco.

He grips me by the waist, steadying me when I almost lose my footing. His gaze takes in the empty foyer. “The new neighbor has left already?”

“Yeah, it was odd, she just disappeared.” I shrug. “Maybe she got a call and had to run. Did you manage to get Noemi dressed?”

“I couldn’t find her.”

I roll my eyes. “Did you check her pillow fort?”

His eyebrows furrow. “It was the first place I looked.”

My heart skips a beat, but I tell myself that it’s nothing. She’s probably playing one of her hide-and-seek games.

“Baby, I’m not playing around, you better come out here this second!” I call. “I’m not in the mood to play around, Noemi. I’m already late for work, you’re late for school, and Marco is going to miss his flight.”

“I’ll check my closet,” Marco informs me and walks off.

Letting out a tired sigh, I head to check the living room. The moment I spot the pillow fort under the dining table, a chill creeps down my spine. Something’s off. My daughter—so particular, so precise—would never build something this messy. I freeze, my breath caught in my throat.

The pillow fort is lopsided, one side crumpled like it had been trampled in a rush. Panic slams into my chest like a freight train. Something’s not right.

Something’s very, very wrong.

“Noemi!” I scream, the name ripping out of my throat like a raw wound. “Marco! Marco!”

He comes running, eyes wide. “What happened?”

“She’s gone!” I choke out, voice cracking. “Something’s wrong, something’s fucking wrong!”

“Wait—maybe she’s hiding, maybe she just?—”

I spin on him, jabbing a shaking finger at the fort. “Look at it! That’s not her mess. Someone took her, Marco!”

His face drains of color. “The neighbor,” he mutters, already bolting for the door.