Page 37 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

RAFFAELE

“ T here’s something you need to see,” Matteo says as soon as I pick up the call.

“Can it wait?” I ask, turning the car right into my father’s private driveway. “I’m on my way to my father’s house.”

“Good,” he tells me. “I’m right outside. This can’t wait. Trust me.”

I tap the screen on my dashboard to hang up the call, and barely a minute later, I pull up to the wrought iron gates of my father’s estate and spot Matteo’s Ford Ranger parked off to the side. He’s leaning against the car, muscled arms crossed over his chest.

As soon as I pull to a stop, he straightens, giving me a serious look.

“This had better be good,” I warn him, stepping out of the car.

Raising an eyebrow in a look I can’t misinterpret, he climbs into the driver’s seat of his car. I go around and join him in the passenger seat.

“Well?” I ask impatiently. “What the hell is going on?”

I’m already exhausted, and it’s not even noon. In the short time I’ve spent in Sardegna, my father has managed to mess everything up. As if the business wasn’t already on shaky ground with the war zone Chicago has become, he just had to go and make alliances with a street gang.

It turned out exactly how I’d expect inviting snakes into your home to turn out—the gang cleaned out most of our warehouses and killed a few of our men.

Since I got back to Chicago three days ago, I’ve been running around paying respects to the families of the dead men, trying to locate the gang members and recover the stolen cargo.

I almost wish I hadn’t set foot out of Sardegna.

Even though the atmosphere there has been somber since Isabella’s death—and it’s all starting to make my skin crawl—at least there’s a level of peace now that Giulia and I are no longer on opposite teams.

I came back to chase a lead on Noemi’s disappearance, but I’ve spent the whole time cleaning up my father’s mess.

It shouldn’t surprise me anymore. I should be used to cleaning up his fucking messes by now, but his timing is just horrible.

I’m beginning to think he does shit like this just to get me riled up.

Matteo reaches behind for his customized laptop on the back seat and opens it. There’s silence in the car as he navigates through the software, fingers flying over the keyboard too fast for me to follow. I doubt anyone but Matteo himself could operate the futuristic box he calls a computer.

“Here,” he finally breaks the silence, turning the screen to face me.

I narrow my eyes at the display. It looks like some kind of chart.

“What am I looking at?” I ask, scanning it in confusion.

He lets out a huff of disbelief and stabs his finger at a point on the screen, then shifts it to the other side. “This one is the plane arrangement Lucio gave you. This is a seating chart from one of the planes that left Sardegna for America within two weeks of Noemi’s kidnapping.”

“And?”

“He gave you this seating chart to show that all the seats were accounted for, and that none belonged to a woman matching Martina’s description,” he explains. “I had some misgivings and decided to do my own digging. Turns out the window seat I marked in yellow wasn’t unoccupied, after all.”

I raise my head and meet his eyes. “What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying someone is lying. Either Lucio or whoever gave him that bogus chart. Someone was in that seat—so why the fuck did he say it was empty? My guess is Martina was on that plane and someone is covering her tracks.”

“You think it’s La Rete Rossi?”

“I don’t think they have a single thing to do with this.”

“There’s no way Lucio kidnapped his own great-granddaughter and then hired someone to take out his niece,” I protest. “The man has been working relentlessly to find Noemi. He gave us the lead on Martina’s whereabouts.”

“And she was dead by the time you got there,” he points out.

My brain whirls as I try to piece together what I know about Lucio. Why would he kidnap Noemi? He doesn’t stand to gain anything at all. It doesn’t make any sense.

“It doesn’t add up,” I say, shaking my head.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s more than likely someone working under his ranks—a right-hand man or something. Someone he trusts who’s gotten greedy. Kidnapping Noemi might be a move to bring Re Ombra to his knees.”

“They can use his great-granddaughter as leverage to bargain for him stepping down.”

“Or this entire thing is a way to distract him from an impending coup,” he raises an eyebrow. “I’d applaud the move if I were on their side.”

“Damn it.” I drag both hands through my hair, my muscles bunching with tension. This whole thing is the worst case of chasing tails. We’ve been running in circles from the start, and it grates on my nerves to know that some asshole is out there, watching all of this and playing God.

“I can’t believe I’m dealing with my father’s mess on top of this.” I lean my head back against the headrest, teeth clenched in frustration. “Keep me updated. Find out if it was really Martina on that plane.”

He gives me a look, which I ignore. We both know no further investigation is necessary—it’s more than safe to draw conclusions at this point. I just don’t want to face the significance of this discovery.

The only person I can think of in Lucio’s ranks capable of pulling this off is my cousin Pepe. The worst part is that I can’t vouch for him. I see him once or twice a year, and I wasn’t even present at his wedding.

More exhausted than ever, I push the car door open and step out, shaking away all thoughts of Pepe and Lucio. I need to deal with my father now—and he requires my full mental arsenal.

I make my way back to my car and climb into the driver’s seat. The guard at the gate nods before granting me entrance. As I pull into the compound, I catch Matteo’s truck zooming off in my side-view mirror.

Emilio is barking orders into his phone as I step out of the car. He freezes when he sees me. The look I shoot him is glacial. He’s supposed to stop my father from making stupid decisions—or at least inform me when he does—but instead, he just goes along with whatever his dumbass boss wants.

I’m starting to suspect my father has Emilio’s family locked in a basement somewhere. That’s the only explanation for why the man can’t just shoot my father the middle finger and walk away. He’s the first to look away, and I continue into the house.

I rap lightly on the door of my father’s office before stepping in. The room is unusually bright, and my father seems full of energy. He spins his wheelchair away from the window and rolls it back to the desk as I enter.

“Welcome home, Raffaele,” he grins. “I thought you’d forgotten where you belong.”

My eyebrows climb. Did this bastard cause all that ruckus just to bring me back to the city and into his office? I’m about ready to strangle my father and finally get some much-needed peace of mind.

“Did you?—”

“My condolences on your fiancée’s death.” His mouth pulls down into an insincere frown. “Very tragic. She was so young. Anyway, this isn’t the end of the world. For you, at least.”

Jesus Christ.

“The alliance is still necessary to restore peace to the city,” he continues, like her death is just another Tuesday to him. “It’s what she would’ve wanted.”

“What the fuck are you going on about?”

He picks up a file from his desk and waves it at me. “I’ve done the work of compiling a list of suitable women who are willing to help further the Gagliardis’ position and end this unnecessary war. Just like you, they’re sick of the deaths and?—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I cut him off.

He ignores me, flipping the book open. “There’s Izetta Moretti.

Her father owns most of the malls on the east side.

It’d be easier to clean our money through his businesses.

She’s my first choice, but there are others.

Andrew Costa has an unmarried daughter—a tiny slip of a thing, but smart, I hear.

Ricci’s daughter just got widowed too, so that?—”

“Enough, Father.” I’m shaking with rage. Can’t I catch a damn break? How long has he been waiting to toss his stupid list in my face? But then again, when it comes to being selfish, inconsiderate, and playing power games, I always underestimate him.

“This is the time to make a move!” he insists.

“Didn’t you want a match between the Gagliardis and the Montanaris?”

“In Isabella’s absence?—”

“She’s not absent. She’s dead,” I tell him sternly. “But in her absence, as you so eloquently put it, I’ll be marrying Giulia.”

There’s a long beat of silence where he opens and closes his mouth like a fish on land. His blue eyes turn frosty. “No, you won’t.”

“I’m not asking for your fucking blessing. You’re the last person I’d ask for marriage blessings. After all, you managed to fuck up your chance with the only good woman who could’ve tolerated your bullshit.”

His jaw tightens. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?”

“You’re not marrying Giulia Montanari. That whole family is tainted!

” he barks. “The way her mother and sister died? They were murdered, Raffaele. And now your daughter is missing—a daughter you didn’t even know existed.

And you want to bring that kind of curse into our bloodline?

She’s a curse, and she’ll bring nothing but bad luck to our family legacy.

Please, use your head for once. She’s surrounded by so much death and misfortune.

I won’t let you bring that into our family. ”

I scoff. “You’ve brought more death and pain than anything you’re accusing Giulia of.”

“You’re not marrying that girl!”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “And who’s going to stop me?”

“You’re really choosing that girl over the family?”

“I’m choosing myself!” I explode.

My father leans forward, lips peeled back into a sneer. “We need allies, Raffaele! Real allies who can help us expand, who can protect us. This girl—this Giulia—isn’t the answer.”

“I don’t need to hear it. I’ve made up my mind,” I declare, eyes fixed on him. His eyes search mine for any shred of doubt he can latch onto and use to tear my resolve apart.

Father opens his mouth, but I speak before he can. “She’s the only woman I’ve ever wanted. And nothing—not politics, not power, not old family rivalries—will change that. If you want your precious alliances, then you’ll accept that any union involving me will happen on my terms.”

His shoulders sag, and his eyes soften. There’s something sad and hopeless about his posture, but I don’t give myself time to think about it. I don’t want to have to pity my father. This might just be another way for him to manipulate me, after all.

“Then be prepared for the consequences.” His voice rings with a warning. “You know the truth, and you know that bad luck follows her—and yet you still want her. How can you want her after everything that’s happened? It’s obvious that life was against you both from the start.”

A bitter smile curves my mouth. “Well, life can go fuck itself. The only thing I have to say about this is: Don’t get in my way. As I said before, I’m not asking for your permission or approval. Giulia and I—this is the way it’s going to be.”

It’s only because I’m watching him so closely that I spot the fear that flashes in his eyes—there and gone. A second later, his eyes shutter, his expression hidden from me.

He lets out a sigh and turns away, rolling his wheelchair back to the window.

“Fine. You want her? You want to be with her? Then go ahead. Marry her. I don’t fucking care anymore, and I’m done advising you.

One thing you should know, though—no one will ever respect a man who turned his back on his family.

You’ve done that twice now. You’ll be on your own. ”

With a bitter smile, I turn away from him to make my way out of the study. “I’ve been on my own for a long time, Father.”