Page 32 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

GIULIA

I ’m the last to step into my grandfather’s office, and judging by the tense atmosphere I walk into, the men were probably arguing… again. Over the past few days, I’ve grown desensitized to the arguments between my grandfather and father.

The smallest things trigger them into barking at each other like feral dogs. I can’t say I’m disappointed, because that would mean that I had any expectations in the first place.

A deep sigh escapes my mouth, and I glance between my father and Lucio. “What now?”

Papa clears his throat and fixes his gaze on me. “There is some good news.”

I perk up at the words. “You’ve found her? You know where she is? Why are we still here? Let’s go get her.”

“We found someone, but it’s not your daughter,” he says.

“They found a woman who matches the description of the lady who you said took Noemi.” It’s only when he speaks that I realize Raffaele is in the room.

My gaze snaps to the dark corner of the room where he’s leaning against a bookshelf, ankles crossed. My eyes take him in fully. Back in Chicago, Raffaele’s staple outfits were dark, designer suits, but he’s relaxed his wardrobe since arriving in Sardegna, trading the suits for jeans.

Today, though, he’s gone for something in the middle. Casual dark pants loosely mold over his long, muscular legs, and a dark Henley stretches over broad shoulders and muscled arms. I lick my lips at the sight of him, his words taking a moment to register.

Until they finally hit.

“Wait, w-what?” I blurt out. “You found Nelly?”

“We found her,” my father grumbles. “Her name’s not Nelly, obviously, but we managed to track down a Martina living in a low-income neighborhood here in Sardegna.”

“So what are we waiting for?” I bark out, glancing at either man. “We’re wasting precious time when we should be on our way to get her. Each second we waste is another second where she could slip away from our fingers.”

“I already have my men on standby,” Lucio informs me. “They’re ready to move at a moment’s notice. I just called you here to keep you informed.”

“Raffaele will lead them,” my father adds quickly, unwilling to be left out.

When I glance over at Raffaele, he nods. “I’ll find this Nelly woman, and I’m going to make her sing like a canary. Don’t worry, Giulia, you’re one step away from having Noemi back.”

I blink at him. “I’m coming with you.”

“No way?—”

“No, you’re not?—”

“No way in hell?—”

Lucio, my father, and Raffaele thunder at the same time. Divided by their morals and convictions and united by their alpha male bullshit.

“I’m not just going to sit around and wait for you to bring my daughter home. I need to do something.”

“You can’t go out there, it’s dangerous,” Lucio hisses. “You’ll just end up getting in the men’s way.”

“I bet I can outshoot every single man under your command,” I say, locking eyes with Lucio, defiant.

“I won’t sit on my ass and trust a bunch of people who’ve never even seen Noemi to bring her home.

I can identify this Nelly-slash-Martina woman, and my daughter is far more likely to listen to me if something goes wrong. If I tell her to run, she’ll run.”

“It’s still not safe for you. I’m not—” Lucio starts.

But Raffaele cuts him off before the argument can escalate into a full-blown shouting match—one I know will end the way it always does: with me doing what I was going to do anyway.

When it comes to my daughter, no one gets to tell me how to bring her home.

If I have to find Nelly myself, I will. I don’t care.

“Giulia can come with us,” Raffaele says firmly. “I’ve seen what she can do—she’ll be an asset. And she’s right—no one else can identify the kidnapper the way she can.”

Lucio swings his dark brown eyes over to my father, looking for some support, but my father merely shrugs, causing the older man’s face to harden into granite. Finally, he faces Raffaele.

“Bring my granddaughter back in one piece. I’m not losing any other family. You hear me?”

With a nod, Raffaele walks out of the room, and I trail after him.

Since that night—since our conversation—I’ve done everything I can to keep my distance. It’s been torture, knowing he’s under the same roof, sometimes even in the same room… and I can’t bring myself to look at him.

I can’t reconcile who we were before I was kidnapped with who we are now.

It feels surreal. Foreign. Like someone pressed pause on one life and resumed another I barely recognize.

I hurry upstairs to change into jeans and a T-shirt, something I can move in.

By the time I reach the courtyard, the SUV is already rolling forward. I pull the door open and slip into the back seat.

Raffaele doesn’t say a word—he just hands me a Glock, silent and sure.

“Even though Re Ombra controls most of the island,” the man in the passenger seat says, turning slightly, “the lower side has its own rules. Its own code. It’s a hellhole, to be blunt.

And if we go in there, grabbing one of their own, there’s a high chance it’ll get messy.

So stay sharp. Even the most innocent-looking kid down there would stab you without blinking. ”

I stare at him, stunned.

Sienna’s voice echoes in my mind: “ This place may look like paradise, but underneath the colorful paint is the dark and the ugly.”

Now, I believe her.

I tighten my grip around the gun as the whitewashed buildings with their terracotta roofs fade into unpainted concrete, crumbling roads, and sagging zinc rooftops.

Even without the visual shift, it’s obvious something’s changed.

The air out here smells of rot and desperation, and everything feels dimmer—like the sunlight can’t be bothered to reach this part of the island.

Finally, the car comes to a halt, and the driver cuts the engine.

“We’re here.”

The building in front of us is just as run-down as the rest—peeling paint, cracked walls, a ghost of what it might have once been. Two teenage boys sit slouched on the broken front steps, watching us with quiet curiosity as we pass.

It’s been a long time since I last handled a weapon, and the gun feels foreign in my hand—familiar but distant.

As we step into the building, a prickling sensation crawls up the back of my neck—that eerie, unmistakable feeling of being watched.

I glance over my shoulders and don’t see anyone.

The teenage boys are more focused on the cigars they’re now sucking on.

Swallowing, I clutch the gun tighter, knuckles turning white from the force of my grip.

As if he can feel my nervousness, Raffaele glances over at me, catching my eye. “Are you all right?”

I tear my eyes away, gaze fixed at a point behind him. “I’m fine.”

He comes to a halt, staring at me with a worried frown, but I push past him, ignoring the concern written on his face. I don’t need his concern. I don’t need him treating me like I’m on the verge of falling apart. I need to be strong right now.

“There’s something here,” one of Lucio’s men calls.

I take off, following the sound of his voice to a tiny kitchen. The kettle is still hot, still warm from use, and the ancient fridge in the corner is humming away. I open it and see a few canned foods and a bag of apples.

There’s a place setting for one on the tiny table shoved into the other corner of the kitchen. Nelly’s been here—very recently. She might even still be nearby.

I cock my gun, and the sound is echoed by the others. We’ve all come to the same conclusion.

On high alert now, we move out of the kitchen and toward the last door at the end of the hallway.

Before I can grab the handle of the door, Raffaele’s hand is on my hip, drawing me back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I whirl around, seething.

“Stopping you from walking into a trap or something worse, all because you’re trying to show that you’re so strong,” he snaps. “Well, news flash, you’re not invincible.”

I don’t have time to hang out here and argue with him. I turn back to the door just in time to see one of the other men kick it down. Guns held at the ready, the four of us barge into the room.

Just like in the kitchen, there are clear signs of life. The bed is unmade, and a tiny TV across the room is showing the news in Italian. There’s a bag at the foot of the bed, and when I upturn it, I see a few clothes, some essentials, a fat wad of cash, a gun, and various IDs and passports.

“Looks like an emergency bag in case shit hits the fan,” the driver informs me.

“Which means she’s still close by,” I say, eyes scanning the space. “We wait, and as soon as she returns, we ambush.”

My fingers curl into fists at my sides.

Either Nelly tells me exactly who has my daughter and where to find them…

or I’ll spend the evening watching her fingernails come off—one by one.

The other guard who’s wandered over to check out the closet and the other doors leading off the room suddenly makes a startled sound. “I think it’ll be hard for you to ambush Martina.”

“Why?” I ask, confused. He motions to the bathroom door.

I exchange a glance with Raffaele before crossing over the thin, dirty rug to where the large man is standing at the bathroom door.

“Oh god.” My stomach lurches as I take in the bathroom.

It isn’t disgust that grips me as I stare at the woman floating in the tub, her eyes glassy and vacant. It’s anger. And helplessness.

Because this means we’re back at square one in our search for Noemi.

The woman in the tub is unmistakably Nelly.

The water has turned a sickly pink, and a razor rests on the edge of the tub. But the splashes on the floor, the faint bruising around her neck and wrists—none of it adds up to suicide.

This was staged.

“They got to her before we could,” Raffaele mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. From the corner of my eye, I see him glance at me, a flicker of concern behind the curiosity in his eyes.

I can’t move. My body feels locked in place as a dark wave surges up inside me.

How did her employers know we were coming?

And then the more terrifying thought hits me:

Is there a mole inside Casa Bianca?

“Whoever is behind all of this is extremely serious about keeping their identities unknown,” the driver grunts. “They fucking mean business, and I don’t think it’s safe to be here. Let’s go.”

The men begin to walk away, but I still can’t bring my feet to budge.

“Giulia—” Raffaele’s hand squeezes my shoulder.

“We just lost our lead. The only one we’ve had since this entire search began.”

My voice sounds robotic, flat. Too many emotions are crashing through my head, and right now, I don’t know which one to feel, let alone how to feel it.

I look up at him through blurry vision. “It’s my fault, Raffaele. All of this is my fault.”

His arms engulf me, pulling me into a tight hug. “It’s not your fault, you could never have known.”

“I’m a bad mom.”

The tears won’t come, and I’m starting to feel… disconnected.

I’ve never touched drugs in my life, but I imagine this is what it must feel like—floating somewhere above the room, above the noise, untethered.

And I know it won’t last. Sooner or later, I’ll crash back to earth.

And when I do, it’s going to be messy.

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. You are an amazing mother, Giulia.” He cups my jaw in his large hands. “You’re here, and you’re fighting for Noemi. You’re not a bad mom.”

The words are soft, breathy assurances—but they bounce right off the shield I’ve wrapped around myself like a second skin.

I’m a terrible mom. And deep down, I can’t shake the feeling that I somehow manifested this.

I remember being so exhausted when Noemi was a baby, so frustrated when she wouldn’t stop crying.

I remember wishing—just for a moment—that she would disappear, just long enough for me to get some sleep. Just a few hours of quiet.

And now she’s gone.

I, of course, always felt guilty right after having the thought, but that doesn’t change anything.

“We’ll find her. I’ll do everything I can to help bring her back.”

And then—without warning—his lips brush against mine.

I jerk back instantly, my mind snapping to the present like a rubber band.

Staring at him, slack-jawed, all I can feel is the shock rattling through me.

That kiss should be in the dictionary beside the definition of worst timing and things that are better off not happening.

“You don’t just get to do that, Raffaele.” My voice comes out icy cold. “You don’t get to kiss me like you own me.”

“For god’s sake, Giulia, I was just trying to comfort you. You looked like you were having a mental breakdown,” he grits out.

“Thank you for being so chivalrous,” I scoff. “But I don’t need you to be my knight in shining armor. Not anymore. I’ve got this. I don’t need you to comfort me. I don’t need anything from you anymore.”

“Giulia, I’m sorry.”

I raise a hand to stop him.

“When I said we were done, I meant it. I appreciate your help finding Noemi, but that’s all we have in common now. Just a shared need to bring back our missing child.”

My voice hardens.

“Beyond that, there’s nothing between us. And I fucking mean it.”

With one last growl, I start to turn away—but stop at the last second.

“Go home to your pregnant fiancée, Raffaele. Just leave me alone. Leave me the fuck out of this mess you created.”

This time, when I walk away, I don’t look back. Because if I do, I might not leave at all.

But Raffaele’s shattered expression sears itself into my memory—and I have a sinking feeling it’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

And maybe it’s not the kiss that haunts me. Maybe it’s how much I wanted it—until I remembered who he is now.