Page 29 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

RAFFAELE

“ L et’s get out of here, Ariel,” the fisherman says, breaking the silence that has suddenly descended in the hallway.

“Giulia, can we talk?” I ask her.

“Talk about what?” she asks coolly.

“About this,” I blurt out. “Let’s just calm down and talk about this.”

She lets out a humorless bark of laughter. She’s trying so hard to look unaffected, but I can see beneath the facade. She’s hurt, and I hate that I’ve hurt her again. I should have just fucking told her the truth.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Giulia says.

“Come on, Ariel,” Marco slants me a look, a mixture of disappointment, satisfaction, and distaste.

I narrow my eyes at him. The bastard probably thinks that this is his one-way ticket back into her life. She begins to head to him, and I reach out and grab her by the elbow.

“Giulia, stop,” I grit out. “What you heard?—”

She tugs her arm away, dislodging my grip on her. “Raffaele, please. You have a baby to think about now. I think you should put your focus there for now. I can’t get in the middle of whatever this is. Please don’t ask me to.”

“You’re already in the middle of this.”

“Then I’m taking myself out of it!” she roars. “I can’t deal with more complications. This is bigger than me—bigger than us now.”

A beat of silence, then she lets out a breath, looking defeated, and it tears at me, slices me to ribbons on the inside. “I’m going to see if Lucio and Papa are done fighting and ready to help me now. I should focus on my family, and you should focus on yours.”

I flinch, the words landing a devastating blow to my solar plexus. She glances away from the pain written on the lines of my face, gnawing at her lower lip.

There’s nothing left to say. I can only step back and watch her walk away. Everything is different now, and we both know it. Whatever fragile hope was developing between us has crumbled to dust in the blink of an eye.

I wait until the door clicks shut behind Giulia before I round on Isabella. “How the hell did this happen? It was one time—one fucking time. Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

“Of course I am,” she says, steady and unflinching.

“How could you?!” I snap.

She blinks, unbothered. “How could I what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Isa. That blank stare doesn’t work anymore.” My voice drops, rough with anger. “You should have come to me first. You didn’t have to put her through this right now.”

Her brow arches, just slightly. “Really?” she says, almost thoughtful.

“And how long was I supposed to wait, Raffaele? How long was I supposed to pretend this didn’t exist?

” She shrugs, one shoulder rising with practiced indifference.

“Was I supposed to show up a few months from now with a baby and say, ‘Oh, hey, by the way, this is Raffaele’s?’ Come on.

She was going to find out, no matter what. ”

“I could’ve found a better way to tell her.” I enunciate the words like they’re solid enough to make this better. “Do you even realize what you’ve just done to her? For god’s sake, you’re her cousin—her best friend. You should know better.”

“No,” she says sharply, stepping closer now, but still in control. “What I did was finally tell the fucking truth.”

She presses a single finger into the center of my chest—not hard, but deliberate. “Something that’s been in short supply between all three of us.”

My jaw clenches. “You could have told her when the time was right.”

She lets out a laugh, low and tired. “And when exactly was that? After you convinced Giulia to forget everything and run away with you again? Was I supposed to just stay quiet and watch you rewrite your little fairy tale?” Her eyes flash.

“Did you think I’d let you pretend I never existed?

Pretend this—whatever it is—didn’t happen? ”

“What are you talking about?” I ask carefully, trying to gauge what she’s seen… or what she thinks she’s seen.

She lets out a short, humorless breath.

“Don’t do that.” Her voice wavers between restraint and something sharper. “Don’t act like you don’t know. I saw you two. In the garden.”

Her arms cross tightly over her chest. “I saw the way you looked at her. The way you leaned in like she was some delicate, sacred thing you didn’t want to break. Like she was the only person in the world who mattered.”

I flinch. A little too visibly.

“So what?” I say, trying to stay calm. “You’ve always known how I felt about her. I spent four years tearing myself apart looking for her. What did you think was going to happen when I finally found her? That I’d just stop feeling it? That I’d forget?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her jaw tightens.

“She lied to you,” she says quietly.

“She didn’t lie to me.”

“She kept things from you. And you know it.” Her voice rises slightly, but not out of rage—out of something closer to desperation.

“She stayed away, Raffaele. She didn’t come back. She didn’t want to come back. You can tell yourself whatever you need to, but if she’d wanted you—really wanted you—she would’ve moved mountains to find you. That’s who Giulia is. You know that better than anyone.”

I open my mouth—but I don’t have anything to say.

Because something sharp and sick settles in my stomach, knowing Isa might be right.

Ever since Matteo told me where she was, ever since she looked at me with that mix of warmth and distance, ever since she didn’t rush into my arms—I’ve felt it. A quiet, creeping doubt.

A sense that maybe… I’m chasing something that doesn’t want to be caught.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say quietly. “You have no idea what it’s been like for her. She lost her memory and?—”

“I know, Raffaele,” she interrupts, no snort, no mockery—just calm certainty. “I know everything. I’ve known for a while.”

I stare at her, heart pounding.

“You know what she’s going through right now,” I say, voice tightening. “You know she’s barely holding it together trying to find our daughter—and you still thought telling her like this was a good idea?”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but her tone remains composed. “I didn’t do it to hurt her. And I didn’t do it to hurt you. I did it because this isn’t just about you and Giulia anymore.”

She takes a breath. “I’m not the villain in this story. I’m just someone trying to live with the consequences too.”

She looks at me then—not with anger, but with something steadier. Something tired.

“I’m the one carrying your child, Raffaele. I’m the one whose life is shifting in ways I can’t control. I deserve to be honest about that. To exist in this story without being treated like a secret.”

Her voice softens, but it doesn’t lose its strength.

“I know what you and Giulia had. I’m not trying to erase that. But whatever it was… It’s over now. It has to be.”

“There’s no place for you in my heart, Isabella,” I tell her quietly. “You’ve always known that. I don’t know what you think you’re trying to do, but whatever it is—it’s not going to work.”

She steps in close, placing a hand on my chest. Her touch is gentle, but her voice isn’t.

“You’re wasting your time with Giulia,” she says, cool and deliberate.

“She doesn’t want you, Raffaele. Do you really believe that in all those years away, she never even thought of picking up the phone to call you?

Sure, she was afraid to come back to Chicago, but why didn’t she ask you to come to her? Don’t be na?ve.”

I try to push her off, but her fingers curl tighter into the fabric of my T-shirt, holding fast.

“Giulia loves me,” I say through clenched teeth.

Her expression sharpens. The softness leaves her eyes entirely.

“You’re delusional. I guess I was right to send Marco to the garden, after all.”

Anger rises to the surface—hard and fast—and I shove her back without thinking.

She stumbles, gasping, her eyes going wide—but there’s no fear in them. Not really. Just something darker. Calculated.

“You did what?” My hands curl into fists, my voice low and dangerous.

The look in my eyes has made grown men step back.

But Isabella doesn’t move.

She meets my gaze with a twisted little smile—the kind that says she’s tired of pretending.

“Come on, Raffaele. Don’t look at me like that.”

Her voice is calm, even playful—but the edge is unmistakable.

“You’ve been chasing a girl who’s broken your heart a dozen different ways, and I’ve been here this whole time, trying to stop you from making the same mistake all over again.”

I shake my head, fury vibrating in my chest. “I don’t need you to save me.”

Her smile fades, and for the first time, something sharp flashes in her eyes.

“No,” she says. “You need someone to tell you the truth. And I’m the only one who’s ever had the guts to do it.”

My jaw tightens, my teeth grinding so hard I might crack a molar. It doesn’t deter her.

“Like it or not, you do,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“You think you’d have survived all these years without me?

That you’d have had any chance with Giulia again—as a drunk fool who spent every night getting his knuckles busted and bloody?

You were a loose cannon, and I cleaned up your act. And what do I get for that?”

There’s a look in her eyes—one I can’t reconcile with the Isabella I’ve always known. She was always Giulia’s supportive cousin, and after Giulia left the first time, she became my friend. She always rooted for us. So all of this feels like something out of an alternate universe.

I don’t get it. I don’t get her. I’d started to notice the shift ever since that night, but it’s like seeing her in an entirely different, blinding light now.

“What did you expect? That my eternal gratitude would somehow turn into love?” I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Is that too much to ask for?” she cries. “What has Giulia ever done for you except be a fucking burden?! She’s wrecked you over and over again, and you go running back, begging her for another chance to wreck you all over again.”

Her voice breaks slightly as she presses forward.

“Why can’t you look at me differently? What does she have that I don’t?”

“Jesus Christ, Isabella. Stop it! Just stop!” I roar, stepping away and dragging my hands through my hair in frustration. “No matter what, you can’t replace her. Nobody can.”

She thrusts her jaw in the air. “Good luck convincing her to be with you.”

“If you try to come between us?—”

“I don’t need to do anything,” Isabella tells me. “Giulia is too honorable to try to split up a family.”

A headache starts to pulse at my temple. This entire conversation has been nothing but circles.

“We’re not a fucking family. How do I even know that baby is mine? How could one night result in… that?”

She exhales sharply, visibly stung, but holds her ground.

“Raffaele,” she says, voice low but firm.

“I know you’re angry. Confused. But don’t take it out on me by throwing around accusations you don’t mean.

This baby is yours. One night is all it takes—you know that as well as I do.

And I would never lie about something like this.

Whatever you think of me, I deserve better than that. ”

The more I try to take control of this conversation, the deeper I seem to dig myself into a hole. At this point, the smartest thing I can do is walk away. I’m wasting my time explaining myself to the wrong person.

“No matter what, you and I will never be a family,” I tell her, and pain flashes in her eyes for a second before they harden again. “I like you, Isabella, but Guilia’s always been the one, and she’ll always be the one, and you deserve far better than a man whose soul belongs to someone else.”

I see tears well up in her brown eyes, and then she turns away from me. I feel sick knowing that I’m the reason she’s hurt, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t fix this for her; I don’t even have any clue how I’m supposed to fix it for myself.

This whole situation is turning Isabella into someone I barely recognize, and I just hope it’s a fluke—something we can work through. I don’t want to be the kind of man who walks away from his kid. Isabella will be the mother of my child, but that’s all she’ll ever be.

I have to find Giulia and make that clear to her.

Hurrying down the hallway, I make my way to Lucio Sanna’s office. The door is wide open, and only Enrico is inside. He’s in the same seat I left him in, his head bowed and shoulders hunched.

He looks like the very picture of a broken man, and suddenly, I see myself sitting exactly where he is. If I don’t get my shit together, I’ll lose Giulia, and this’ll be me, years from now: bitter, hollow, resenting every trace of happiness around me.

Or worse… maybe I’ve already lost her.

I step away carefully, leaving him to it.

At the end of the hallway, a maid stands with a laundry basket tucked under her arm.

“Have you seen Giulia?” I ask. The woman starts, eyes wide at the suddenness of my voice.

“Uh… Miss Montanari rode off on the back of a man’s bike a few minutes ago,” she replies cautiously.

“Do you know where they went?”

She shrugs. “Probably a date. The weather’s perfect for a picnic, no?”

I turn without a word and march out of the house. Outside, I drop onto the steps leading to the front door. I’m staying right here until she comes back. And when she does, I’m going to explain everything—make her understand that maybe there’s still something left to fight for.

There has to be.

This can’t be the end of us.

No fucking way.