Page 33 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

RAFFAELE

“ R affaele, wake up,” a familiar voice whispers.

My eyes flutter open, and I’m met with the most incredible sight.

Giulia leans over me, her eyes half-lidded, dark with desire. Her mass of chestnut hair is loosely gathered in a messy bun, strands tumbling free around her face.

I take a moment to take her in.

She’s wearing one of my gray T-shirts—oversized on her—and the fabric has slipped off one shoulder, revealing a stretch of smooth, bare skin that makes my pulse stutter.

“Raffaele,” she whispers again, her hand reaching down to drag through my hair. “Are you up? I missed you.”

I sit up slowly. “What are you doing here?”

She gives me a look, then giggles. “Where else would I be, silly? I’ll always be with you, Raffaele. Always.”

Wrapping my hands around her waist, I flip us over until she’s beneath me, still giggling, her eyes bright now. The early morning sun filters in through the half-open curtain, turning her eyes into a kaleidoscope of color. She is iridescent, perfect, and I want to preserve this moment for eternity.

“I love you,” I tell her.

“Then kiss me,” she breathes, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I waste no time. My mouth comes down on hers in a kiss that starts slow, but she deepens it, sliding her tongue into my mouth with a deep moan.

My hands trail up her legs, pushing the shirt higher. She breaks the kiss just long enough to whip it over her head, leaving her smooth, honeyed skin glowing in the light.

My mouth waters. I lower my lips to the pulse in her neck, nipping gently.

Her back arches, pressing her breasts into me. She moans, nails digging into my back, raking down. My mouth opens over her collarbone, dragging my tongue across her skin.

Giulia hums low in her throat as I continue my descent, closing my mouth over the hardened peak of her nipple.

“Ah—” she gasps, breath catching as her back arches.

I cup her other breast, circling her nipple with my thumb, teasing it until her moans grow louder. My teeth graze her, pulling another sharp breath from her lips.

“Raffaele—please,” she pants as I shift to her other breast, giving it the same slow, reverent attention.

When I finally move away, I trail open-mouthed kisses from her breast down to her belly button, until my face is at her slick center. I breathe her in, desire replacing the blood in my veins. My skin buzzes, alive with need.

She lifts her hips, pressing herself harder against my mouth. I flick out my tongue and taste her.

This time, we both moan. I want to eat her, drink her in, and fuck her with my tongue until she’s reduced to mindless lust—until she’s sobbing and begging, her juices running down my jaw. But I’m far too coiled up. My cock is hard enough to pound nails, and I’m this close to coming out of my skin.

She drives me fucking insane.

Everything about her is perfection—crafted to bring me to my knees, every single time.

I lean over her, slanting my mouth over hers again, letting her taste the faint evidence of her desire on my tongue. She gasps into my mouth, her body trembling with need.

“Please,” she croaks, gaze limpid.

Reaching down, I shove the elastic waistband of my sweatpants down, taking my boxer briefs with them until my aching length is in my hand. Her eyes lock onto it hungrily, tongue darting out to swipe over her bottom lip.

I stroke myself—once, twice—and she watches every movement, her gaze darkening with each pass.

One of my hands pins her hip as I pull her up, then I position my cock at her dripping entrance. She sucks in a breath when the head brushes against her folds, biting down on her bottom lip. Without a second thought, I begin to push into her.

“Oh god,” she gasps.

I grit my teeth at the feel of her silky walls gripping me tight. She feels so fucking incredible—I’m not sure I’m going to last. God, I’ve missed this.

Pleasure skitters across my skin, every nerve ending sparking to life.

“Fuck, baby,” I pant. “Feels so good. So, so good.”

She groans, tossing her head back as I settle deep inside her. Her pussy clenches around me, and I curse under my breath, going still. Sweat pours down my body with the effort of not moving.

I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten backward, but none of it helps.

I roll my hips back and push into her—she screams, eyes flaring wide. Then, a mischievous smile curls one corner of her mouth, and before I know it, she’s flipped us, straddling me.

I barely have time to get my bearings before she grabs the base of my cock and sinks down, taking me in with a single thrust.

“Fuck,” she bites out, gripping my shoulder for leverage.

Giulia starts rolling her hips, bouncing and grinding on my cock until she finds a rhythm. My gaze locks on the mirror over her shoulder, watching myself slide in and out of her hungry pussy. Her eyes roll back, her pink mouth falling open.

I bend my head and take one of her bouncing breasts into my mouth, molding the other in my palm, rolling and pinching her nipple.

“Raff, Raffaele, please, please!” she cries. “I’m so close. I c-can’t—I can’t?—”

“Shhh,” I whisper. “I’m going to give you what you need, baby girl.”

I grip her hips and slam her down onto my cock. The scream she lets out is ear-splitting. She throws her head forward, teeth sinking into my shoulder.

I thrust into her, guiding her movements as I work her up and down my length, entirely in control.

Her pussy spasms around me as I keep fucking her—hard, fast, desperate—and I know she’s close.

I reach down, pressing my palm to her clit, and the next time she sinks down on my cock, the swollen bundle bumps against my hand.

“Fuck!” she grits out.

“Come for me, baby girl.”

With one last cry, she starts to come—her pussy clenching around me like a vice. Her orgasm rushes through her like a flood, slick and hot as it slides down my length and over my thighs.

“I love you, I love you,” she breathes, her mouth everywhere—pressing kisses over my face, my jaw, my neck.

I shoot up in bed, sweat pouring down my body as the last remnants of sleep fade from my eyes.

My head jerks to the side, taking in the bedroom that’s definitely not mine.

Disappointment crashes over me when I realize I’m not in the safehouse with Giulia—none of it was real. It was all just a dream.

“Fuck.” I scrub a hand over my face and bury my face in my hands, feeling even more miserable than ever, despite my cock pulsing and leaking pre-cum.

With a sigh, I stumble out of bed to the bathroom, turning the water as cold as it can get. The dream felt too real, and I wish I could go back to it. God, I miss her. But it’s more than just physical.

I miss talking to her, listening to her random thoughts, seeing her smile at me, watching her laugh, knowing that I’m the reason for it. I liked being a part of her world.

I have no idea how I even survived the years without her, but what I do know is that I won’t be able to survive a second time. I can’t lose her again, but she’s slipping through my fingers—and I’m running out of options and hope.

The icy cold water succeeds in rerouting the blood from my cock, deflating my erection. I’m stepping out of the shower just as my phone pings with a notification. I cross the room and grab the phone.

My heart begins to race when I see that it’s a message from Matteo. He’s been helping me look into Noemi’s disappearance and the Martina woman. So far, there have just been a bunch of dead ends.

Today, though, there’s an address to an underground fighting ring.

I’m familiar with how the fighting rings work, and I know that there’s a lot of useful information passed around between fights and bets. I turn to head toward my closet but come to a screeching halt at the sight of Isa standing there—silent, her posture rigid with tension.

How the fuck did I not notice her? And why does she keep showing up everywhere?

“Why the hell are you here?” I ask her coldly. “You can’t just walk into my room whenever you please. I wanted separate rooms for a reason.”

Isabella’s voice is calm, but laced with razor-sharp sarcasm. “Let me guess, so you could have the privacy to jerk off to my cousin until kingdom come?”

I should ignore her, but sometimes, riling her up feels just as satisfying.

“At least thinking about her brings me pleasure. You just make me sad.”

She gives a tight, dismissive smile, clearly unaffected. “There’s a dinner at Pepe’s house tonight. Wear something nice, and don’t be late.”

I snort. “Count me out. I’m not a circus monkey you can dress up and display.”

Her eyes frost over. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult? We are getting married, for fuck’s sake. Is it so bad to want my fiancé at dinner with me?”

Pushing past her, I pull out a dark T-shirt and jeans from the closet. “I have shit to do.”

“Giulia will be there.”

I freeze, my throat suddenly going dry. I glance over my shoulder and catch her eyeing me shrewdly. Even though we’re living under the same roof, I haven’t seen Giulia in three days. Since that kiss after we found Martina dead. If she was avoiding me before, she’s taken it a step further now.

I can’t believe I’m now at a point where I’m so desperate for even a glimpse of her.

“I’ll see if I can make time,” I tell her.

Isa rolls her eyes, a mocking laugh escaping her lips.

I wait until the door has shut behind her before I release the breath I’ve been holding.

I’m suddenly filled with anticipation at the thought of tonight, but first things first: I need to find out some useful information about La Rete Rossi and Noemi’s disappearance.

The underground ring is located at the outskirts of Sardegna near the docks.

I park the car I borrowed from Lucio’s garage a distance away and walk down to the rundown building with graffiti-covered walls.

A few men hang around the entrance smoking.

When I walk past, I see them tense, and my hand reaches for my gun.

Luckily, they don’t make a move, and I slip into the building without incident.

The place looks like a typical warehouse, with crates stacked around it and another group of men smoking in the corner. I walk past them to the metal door at the back, and as soon as I push it open, a wave of noise assaults me.

A fight is already in full force somewhere beyond the screaming crowd. I make my way around them, settling in one corner. From here, I can see the ring—and the violence unfolding inside it. The crowd roars, cheering as one of the fighters drives his fist into his opponent’s face again and again.

From the corner of my eye, I spot some figures exchanging something in the dark, and I have no doubt it’s drugs. The entire place is a pit of immorality. A half-naked woman is being fucked against a wall in one shadowy corner, and when she turns her head, her dead gaze meets mine.

The entire place reeks of unwashed bodies and desperation, and the sooner I can get out of here, the better.

“Hey,” I grab a passing man by the elbow. “What do you know about La Rete Rossi?”

He spits. “Bunch of hooligans. Who’s asking?”

“Someone whose kid is missing,” I reply cryptically. “Who runs their operations in the States?”

The man blinks at me. “The States? You mean the United States? What the fuck does La Rete Rossi have to do with the States?”

Confusion washes over me, and I pull out a picture of Noemi. “Ever seen her?”

He peers at the picture and shrugs. I pull out Martina’s picture. “What about her?”

Suddenly, the man tenses. “Look, I’ll warn you to stop whatever it is you’re digging into. He won’t like it.”

“Who won’t like it?”

The man tears his arm away and rushes off, glancing around nervously. The next few people I talk to have pretty much the same reaction. They keep on mentioning a him , leaving me even more confused than ever. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?

Apparently, La Rete Rossi doesn’t operate outside of Italy at all. Which means we’ve been focusing on the wrong target this whole time. I need to inform Matteo to broaden our search past them and conduct a more thorough dive into Martina.

I’m already running late for dinner, and I decide to continue with my mission tomorrow. I make my way out of the underground fighting ring and down the dark street to where my car is parked. Too occupied with conflicting thoughts, it takes me a while to realize that I’m being followed.

I keep my shoulders relaxed, acting oblivious. A second later, the man lunges toward me. I spin around, catching the glint of a dagger just before I step to the side, swinging my elbow to dislodge his grip on the weapon.

It goes clattering to the ground. The man leaps toward it, but I’m faster, catching him under the jaw with an uppercut that makes him stumble backward. He wipes his bloody nose with the back of his arm, his dark, predatory eyes narrowing at me.

The man charges at me, fists raised, but I’m bigger, faster, stronger. I hook my arm around his neck and lock him in a chokehold, holding him hostage.

“Who sent you?” I bite out.

The only reply I get is a furious cry as the man attempts to break free from my hold.

“Who?” I bark, sick of hearing about this faceless, nameless ‘he.’ “If I ask again, I’ll blow out your kneecaps.”

The man jabs his elbow into my stomach, causing me to release him. He dives for the knife, and before I can stop him, it’s already in his hand. I brace, waiting for him to come at me, but to my surprise, his mouth curves into a mocking smile.

“ No soy un traidor! ” he cries in Spanish. I watch him raise the blade. “ Vete al infierno.”

What the fu?—

I see the intent in his eyes a second too late. I race toward him, but he’s already bringing the dagger down into his chest. His words fade as he plunges the knife into his mouth repeatedly, then drives it into his heart.

The man stills, then drops to his knees, blood gurgling out of his mouth. I know he’s dead even before his body drops to the ground with a thud.

Fucking hell.

I stare at the body—knife buried to the hilt in his chest—blood still bubbling at his lips. The street’s dead quiet now. The only sound is my ragged breath.

That’s two dead leads in three days.

Someone’s cleaning house.

And if they think I’ll back off now—they don’t know a goddamn thing about me.