Page 27 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

RAFFAELE

“ I used to think my father was the most despicable excuse for a parent,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence left in Giulia’s wake. “But now I see I gave him too much credit. You two have him beat. You wear your disgrace like it’s some fucking badge of honor,” I sneer.

The two men snap their gazes toward me.

“Excuse me?” Enrico growls.

“You heard me,” I shoot back, well past caring if I might be inciting another war.

“At least my father is trying to turn me into his mini-me. And you know what? Even that bastard wouldn’t have just sat around sulking if I went missing.

He doesn’t give a damn about me—don’t get me wrong—but he cares about his legacy enough not to let me be the one to ruin it. ”

“I care about Giulia,” Enrico snaps. “You think you know everything, but?—”

“I’ve never claimed to know everything,” I say coldly. “The only thing I do know for sure is that Giulia is hurting, and you two idiots—who are supposed to be helping—are too busy bickering like fishwives.”

“How dare you come into my house and insult me?” Lucio’s voice is glacial, each word edged with warning. If I weren’t so furious after seeing Giulia cry, my sense of self-preservation might’ve kicked in and made me back off.

But I’m this close to throwing a fist in both their faces.

I expected it from Enrico—he’s always been a self-absorbed bastard.

But I really thought Lucio Sanna was different.

Turns out, he’s just another man stuck in the past, too blind to see beyond it.

If they’d both just open their damn eyes, they’d realize they lost something once, and fate is offering them another chance.

A chance they don’t deserve.

“Are you going to throw me out or shoot me?” I meet his gaze, daring him. His eyes narrow, but he says nothing.

A dry, humorless laugh escapes me. I glance at Enrico. “You’re about to lose your granddaughter before you even meet her—and still, all you care about is chasing ghosts and fighting battles that ended years ago.”

Then I turn to Lucio. “And you’re going to lose your great-granddaughter because you’re too busy treating her like some consolation prize for what you’ve lost.”

Shooting them identical looks of distaste, I rise to my feet. “And when you do, you’ll lose Giulia too.”

“You think I’ll stand by and let you take her from me?” Enrico roars, rising as well. “I’m her father and?—”

“The number of times she’s cried because of you should make you ashamed to call yourself that,” I cut in before he can launch into more self-serving nonsense.

I flick imaginary lint off the shoulder of my silk shirt.

“I don’t care what either of you chooses to do, but the next person who makes her cry will answer to me. ”

If I stay in this room any longer, I’m going to lose it—and someone’s going to end up on the floor. Maybe both. As I head for the door, I pause and glance back over my shoulder.

They’re too busy glaring at each other to notice much else. Unlike Giulia, I have no illusions left when it comes to either of them. I’ll begin the search for our daughter on my own.

“And by the way,” I add, “years from now, I’m doing everything in my power not to end up like you—two broken men, still haunted by the woman you both loved and lost.”

I watch the words land. Enrico’s shoulders fold inward, as if the weight of them hits bone. Re Ombra’s face pales.

Lucio doesn’t speak at first. Just stares. Cold. Impenetrable.

Then his voice cuts clean through the room.

“You think you’re the only one who’s bled for her?”

I glance back. His eyes are as sharp as flint.

“Walk out now, Raffaele. But if you ever fail Isabella or Giulia again—don’t come back.”

I step out of the suffocating weight of the study, and somehow, I already know where she went. The air is cooler out here, but the fury still clings to me. My knuckles itch. My jaw throbs from clenching.

I exhale—once, twice.

Then I follow the only pull I’ve ever trusted—straight to her.

The younger me would’ve scoffed at the idea of some magnetic force between people. I never believed in kismet, soulmates, or any of that sentimental crap. But now, I find myself drawn to the back garden like her soul is calling to mine.

She’s rocking gently on a swing tied to a tree. The wind tugs at her brown hair, whipping it across her face, and every so often, she brushes it aside with a distracted hand.

Casa Bianca is the kind of place I always imagined Giulia and I would grow old in. It’s beautiful—wide open land, sweeping views of the island and the sea. The house itself has a rustic charm.

Everything inside is old, but solid. The kind of place that’s weathered storms and time, and still stands strong. It makes you feel safe, like it’s been pulled from the pages of a storybook.

But there’s a quiet sadness woven into its walls. Like it’s witnessed too much—held too much—and stayed standing through every ache and loss, whether it wanted to or not.

I step forward silently, swallowing the knot in my throat. Carefully, I gather her hair in my hands and begin to braid it into a thick, single plait. It’s been years since my mother died—but somehow, my hands remember.

Giulia goes still as I finish.

“Can I sit with you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Y-yes.”

I settle on the swing chair beside her. We sit pressed together, facing opposite directions. She turns her head slightly to look at me, her eyes red and watery. I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and hand it to her without a word.

“I’m sorry,” I say as she dabs her eyes.

“About what?”

“About them,” I tell her softly. “About Noemi. About losing your memory. About all of it.”

She lowers her head. “None of that was your fault.”

“Maybe not,” I say, meeting her eyes. “But I should’ve been there. And for that, I am sorry.”

She exhales slowly. “My mother never talked about her past, and I was too young to wonder why. Later, I found a letter that made it sound like she loved it here more than anything… and that leaving meant giving up everything she cared about—for my father.”

A moment of silence settles between us.

“I wish I’d known her better. I wish…” She trails off.

“You know, my father only ever talks about the day Mama died. Sometimes it makes me forget we lost more than just her. Val was the other half of my soul. I know people like to throw around sentimental nonsense about twin bonds, but we actually had it. Do you think that’s crazy? ”

I shake my head. “No.”

“I could feel her,” she says quietly. “Not in some telepathic or magical way—it was more like… being on a call with someone you love. They don’t have to say a word. Just knowing they’re on the line is enough.”

She lets out a soft breath. “Mama always used to complain about how Val was such a light sleeper. It affected me too—the moment she stirred, I’d wake up. It was like we were wired together.”

Her voice cracks. “Now imagine that call suddenly dropping. No warning. Just silence. You keep redialing—again and again—but it never connects.”

Giulia looks at me. “And my father acts like she never existed. He mourns Mama, but it’s like Val never mattered. Like we didn’t lose my twin that day too. And I hate him a little for that.”

“You don’t talk about her.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t even remember what she looked like, Raffaele. We were fraternal, so we didn’t look alike. And every picture we had—Papa got rid of them when we moved. We were so young… Sometimes it feels like she was never real. Like I imagined her.”

Her voice trembles, and I can hear the tears rising in it. My chest tightens.

“My mother would have loved it here,” I say quietly.

Giulia turns sharply, eyes wide. I know that look. I never talk about my mother. She’s the unspoken ache in my life, the wound I pretend has healed over.

But the truth is—I still miss her every single day. A part of me is still that small, wounded boy who just wanted to sit with her, play chess, and dream about a better life.

“Really?”

I nod, gazing out over the hills. “She always loved flowers. Gardens. The kind of place with sea views and rolling landscapes. Beauty and quiet.”

“Did she ever get to have that?” Giulia asks.

“Just for a while,” I say. “I like to think that wherever she is now, she’s surrounded by beautiful trees and colorful gardens. And a dog—she always wanted one.”

“What happened to Marty?” Giulia asks.

“He’s with Alessia. It was better that way. I haven’t been in the right headspace to care for him, and honestly… he reminded me too much of you.” I offer her a faint smile. “Alessia was happy to take him. He’s grown attached to her. I wonder if he’ll ever want to come back to me.”

“That dog adores you.”

I raise a brow. “You’ve got it backwards. He tolerated me at best. It was you he adored.” I pause, then add softly, “And he’ll love Noemi too.”

She lets out a dry chuckle. “You make it sound like the four of us are going to be one big, happy family.”

“The only thing stopping us is you,” I say. “I’m all in, Giulia.”

She looks at me—not with softness, but with something harder.

“You’re all in now. But are you ready for me not to be?”

Her voice is steady this time. “You think love makes this easy. It doesn’t. It just makes it harder—harder to stay, and harder to walk away.”

She turns from me with a sigh. “You know it’s impossible.”

“Why?” I ask again. It feels like I’ve been asking that same question since I set foot in Casa Bianca. Now that the truth is out and we have a child together, what’s still holding us back?

“What about Isabella? You can’t just toss her aside. I think she has feelings for you, Raffaele.”

I blink, stunned. “Isabella? Feelings for me?”

I shake my head. “She’ll probably be relieved not to go through with the marriage.”

“I know she does, Raffaele. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

The words hit harder than I expect—not because I feel the same, but because I hadn’t known. Hadn’t even considered it. And now, it sits like a stone in my chest.

Giulia’s voice softens, but her eyes stay locked on mine.

“You can’t seriously tell me nothing ever happened between you two.”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

I could tell her the truth. Maybe now’s the time—to finally explain what happened that night. That it was a mistake. Too much whiskey. Too much grief. A moment of weakness I can barely even remember.

But saying it wouldn’t change anything.

It wouldn’t erase the weight in Giulia’s voice.

And it wouldn’t stop the storm I know is coming.

She pauses—not accusing, just trying to understand.

“I can’t just reappear in your life like none of this exists. There’s a bond between you two now.”

I should tell her.

But I don’t.

Because that would hurt her.

And god knows she’s been hurt enough already.

And right now, all I can think about is Giulia. And that goddamn fisherman. Her and him, tucked away somewhere, playing house, maybe even?—

Fuck.

The mere thought of him touching her skin makes something savage twist inside me. It makes me want to erase every trace of him from her mind—from her body. Like he was never there. Like he never deserved to be.

I bite down the wave of jealousy threatening to boil over. My jaw tightens. What happened between Isabella and me was a misunderstanding. It never mattered. And telling Giulia now would only drive her further away.

I shift slightly, closing the space between us, my voice low and steady.

“I never thought of her that way.” I cup her face gently, trying to ground both of us. “You’re all I’ve thought about for years, baby. Nothing’s changed. Not for me.”

“You may not feel anything for her,” she whispers. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel something for you.”

I flinch, but she pulls back slightly, and her voice softens, full of exhaustion.

“Everything’s a mess for me right now. I’m sorry, but I can’t just jump back into this. I’m not thinking clearly… and right now, my only focus is finding Noemi.”

“What are you afraid of?” I ask softly. “That it’ll hurt again? That you’ll lose me? That this won’t last?”

I shake my head. “I won’t let that happen. Not to you.”

“Whatever it is, you’re not facing it alone this time. We’ll get through it—together.”

“Raffaele—”

I lean forward and press my mouth over hers, lips brushing over each other softly, tentatively tasting.

It’s not a kiss exactly, but we are so close, our breaths are mingled; just one tiny gesture, and I’ll close the distance.

Fuck, it’s like tasting heaven after being stuck on earth for so long.

My lungs expand, breathing her in and keeping her there behind my rib cage.

“Stop running from this, Giulia,” I whisper against her lips.

Her eyebrows furrow. “I don’t want to?—”

I move in to kiss her, to end whatever protest is lying on her lips, but then a voice cuts in.

“Hey, Ariel. Miss me?”

My mouth freezes a centimeter from hers, and the bubble we’ve been stuck in bursts right open with the arrival of the asshole fisherman.

Of course.

The past always shows up—especially when you’re finally ready to move forward.