Page 5 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

GIULIA

F our months later

“Any luck with the search?” Mrs. Amato asks as she heaps food onto my plate.

I roll my eyes fondly at my gigantic portion of food. Sienna’s mother thinks that I don’t eat enough, constantly worrying about me being skinny and the baby. She’s made it a point to send Marco and me home with Tupperware full of food.

“No luck yet,” I tell her. “The state investigator hasn’t decided to bless us with his presence yet.”

She makes a clucking sound at the back of her throat and mutters something under her breath. “Well, don’t worry about the investigator or none of that now. Eat your food, cara mia . The baby won’t feed itself.”

From across the table, Sienna snorts. “The baby will be the size of King Kong with the way you’ve been stuffing food down Ariel’s throat.”

“She’s aiming for the size of Godzilla,” Sienna’s thirteen-year-old brother pipes up, giggling at his joke.

“What’s wrong with wanting the baby to be healthy?” Mrs. Amato plants her hands on her hips, cutting her daughter a glare.

“I’m a doctor, Mom,” she groans. “The baby is healthy and it’s not suddenly going to curl up and disappear because she ate a normal, human-sized portion of food.”

Her mother remains unmoved by her declaration. “When you finally see it fit to give me a grandchild, you can choose to eat those itty-bitty salads and starve the child.”

A collective groan goes up across the table. Free-minded Mr. Amato continues to shovel food into his mouth without sparing either of us a glance. Before long, Sienna and her mother have delved into their usual argument about the doctor’s single status.

I glance down when a hand enters my view, and I watch Marco switch our plates with a small smile.

My heart feels like it’s melting into goo whenever he does these tiny acts of care. I don’t know what my life was like before Marco fished me out of the water, but I have a feeling it wasn’t one that was full of love and affection. It must be why I find myself a little reluctant to go back to it.

I’ve not told anyone yet, and I’ve not fully admitted it to myself, but I’m kind of hoping the state investigator takes his time coming around.

Being around Sienna’s chaotic family, Marco’s sweetness and this sleepy town in general is healing something inside me. Something I don’t even know how it got broken.

Occasionally though, I feel a certain restlessness, a niggling in the back of my mind reminding me I’m not supposed to be here, and I’ve left something important… Or someone.

So far, Marco, and I have come up with theories that whoever I’d been getting married to had to have been responsible for what happened to me, and the only reason I’m not being hunted down right now is because they assume I’m dead.

The fact remains that we can’t actually say what’s what until my identity has been recovered and we can safely start looking into my life.

Dinner is exceptional, and by the end of it, even though Marco switched out our plates, I’m still bursting full.

“I’ll do the dishes,” I rush to say as soon as everyone’s done.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re pregnant,” Sienna argues.

“I don’t remember pregnant women being outlawed from doing the dishes,” I raise a brow at her while rising to my feet. While it’s nice to be cared for, I don’t want to be babied at all. Everything inside me rebels at the thought of being seen as weak and incapable.

She knows I won’t budge, so she just rolls her eyes with a huff. “Fine, I’ll rinse and dry.”

We gather up the dishes and Marco carries them into the house, the redhead and I trailing after him. My eyes can’t help but be drawn to the way his thin T-shirt tapers against his slim waist. My gaze drops down further to his firm ass in those jeans.

When I realize what I’m doing, I tear my gaze away, feeling like the biggest creep on the planet.

“So…” she drawls when we’re cleaning up the kitchen later.

“So?”

“Come on, don’t make me spell it out,” Sienna groans.

Confusion creases my brows. “Spell what out?”

“What’s going on between you and Marco?”

My eyes widen in shock. “W-what?! Nothing is going on between us. Did he say there’s something going on?”

“What? No, of course not,” she assures me. “Ugh, my least favorite book trope is slow burn, and this is why. It’s so frustrating watching you two run around your obvious attraction to him.”

I feel a little faint. “O-obvious?” I croak.

“You two aren’t fooling anyone,” she laughs. “And you think I didn’t notice you staring at his ass earlier.”

My face catches fire. “Oh god.”

At my feet, the ancient family dog raises its head and shoots me a droll, judgmental look. I hurriedly look away. “Marco is good-looking and nice.”

The other woman snorts. “Are we listing all of his good characteristics now, cause I’m sure you can do better than that. It’s obvious he likes you, and you like him too. What is the holdup?”

“I think you’re forgetting something.” I wave in the general area of my slightly protruding stomach.

Her mouth curls up into a smirk, amusement flashing in her eyes. “I see it, he sees it, and if I have to guess, I’ll say your pregnancy hormones have definitely seen him.”

I scowl at her, but she just throws her head and laughs. She’s so right about my pregnancy hormones going crazy, though. I’ve had to remind myself every day that my life is already complicated enough, and I can’t complicate it further by getting involved with Marco.

Or can I?

Now that she’s put the thought in my head, it refuses to leave, and I catch myself staring at Marco more often for the rest of the night. I wasn’t lying when I said he’s good-looking, with his mop of dark blond hair, golden eyes, and muscled body.

“Are you okay? You’re quiet,” he points out as we pull away from the street and head back home in his pickup. “Did Si say something? Do I need to have a chat with her?”

I open my mouth to tell him about my conversation with her, but then I change my mind. “No. No, it’s nothing really.” When he continues staring at me with suspicion, laughter spills out of my throat. “Stop it, Marco, I’m fine.”

I see his shoulders visibly relax. It makes my smile grow a little wider. Marco is perfect in every way, and I’m not blind to the way he looks at me, even though I like to pretend otherwise to Sienna. There’s just a part of me that’s hesitant, and I have no idea why.

“You care for some tea before bed?” Marco calls from the kitchen. The question is followed by the sound of dishes clanking.

“Sure,” I mumble with a mouth full of cashews. I’ve been addicted to the things since my second month. Sienna assured me that it’s a pretty safe addiction, and since then, there’s always been jars of them stocked up in the pantry.

Marco appears with two mismatched cups of tea and hands me one. I sit up and begin to reach for it, but end up moving too fast.

“Ouch,” I cry as the hot liquid spills over my hand.

“Shit, sorry.” He jumps into action, dropping the cups and grabbing some paper towels.

“No, no. It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “Just a bit clumsy.”

“It was totally my fault.” He shoots me a sheepish smile, kneeling between my spread legs to inspect my hand. Pursing his lips, he blows cool air over the area, causing a shiver to roll through me. My skin prickles, goosebumps rising on my arms.

“No burn,” I say through a suddenly dry throat. “See, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Marco’s voice is low, and when he raises his head, there’s a look in his eyes. My own eyes must reflect that same look as I stare at him now, holding my breath, waiting.

The room seems to shrink around us, and my throat feels too tight.

“Ariel.” The name is a question on his lips.

“Yes?”

In a heartbeat, he’s on me, cupping my jaw softly and pulling me into a kiss. I fall into the kiss willingly, slotting my lips into his. His mouth is light with air and emotion, asking and promising, teasing my senses.

But that’s not what I want…

I press harder against him, turning the kiss from light to dark in seconds. My mouth is demanding, insistent, and I’m afraid I’ve startled him when he freezes. My body shudders with relief when, a moment later, he takes my cue.

I’m suddenly lifted, and Marco drops into the couch, dropping me down astride his thighs. I can feel the hard ridge of his growing erection pressed against my wet panties.

“Hmm,” I moan, rolling my hips.

“Fuck,” he groans, grasping my hip with one hand to hold me in place. “If you keep on with that, this isn’t going to last more than a minute.”

I slant my mouth over his again, my tongue tangling against his. When his hands move up my thighs, taking my dress up with them, they feel too gentle. His hand cups my breasts through my dress, thumb sliding over my nipple.

I throw my head back as pleasure curls through me, moisture pooling out of me. Touching myself under someone else’s roof has felt wrong, and so I’ve been living with a daily ache. And having to see Marco every other second hasn’t helped. The opposite, in fact.

He pushes down the thick straps of my dress until it pools down to my waist, my breasts spilling out.

“Fuck, baby,” he bites out as his eyes drink them in. “They’re even better outside of my fantasies.”

“Marco, please.” I’m burning on the inside, ablaze with need.

I watch with half-lidded eyes as he bends his head and takes one hard nipple into his mouth, sucking deep. A cry tears out of my mouth, and I arch my back, offering him more of me.

A voice in my head chants, demanding more, more, more .

I drag my palms up his shirt, feeling his hard, muscled stomach. “Take this off,” I whisper desperately.

He pulls away to whip the shirt off, muscles rippling. And I do the same with mine. I take in an eyeful of his body, my mouth watering. The clink of metal distracts me. My gaze falls to where he’s hastily undoing his belt, golden rings in his eyes almost glowing.

My mouth runs dry at the sight of his hard cock curving up to his stomach.

“Ariel, baby,” he grits out in a guttural voice.

“Baby.” Another voice echoes in my head. Another voice from another time. Almost like a memory. I blink, startled.

“Are you okay?” Marco asks, reaching for me. I flinch away from his hold, and he stills.

“I’m sorry, I can’t… I—” My heart is beating too fast, and everything feels wrong.

“Did I do something or?—”

I stumble away from his hold, eyes wide. “It’s not you. I just…”

There’s no explanation I can give him, so I turn and flee. I ignore Marco calling for me, slamming my door shut and turning the key in the lock.

I fall into my bed, panting.

What the fuck was that?

Since I woke up without any memory of my past, Sienna has been assuring me that it will all return eventually, and it will come in fragments like flashes. In the entire four months I’ve been here, there hasn’t been any flash. Until now.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember the voice and push past the fog in my head. All I get for my efforts is a pounding headache, though.

“Ugh,” I groan, slapping my palms over my eyes. “Damn it.”

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I wake up at the sound of my door creaking open. I sit up, rubbing my eyes to clear my grogginess. The windows are drawn, and the lights are all turned off, plunging the room into absolute darkness.

“Marco?” I ask uncertainly.

“Shh.” It’s the same voice from earlier. “You don’t want him to hear, do you?”

“Wh-who are you?”

The only response I get is a dark chuckle. I can see the rough outline of him, large and towering, approaching the bed. When I try to rise, his hand flies out, raking into the back of my hair and tightening, keeping me in place.

I gasp at the possessive authority in that move.

“And where do you think you’re going, baby?” the man whispers, his hot breath fanning over my mouth.

My nipples harden, calling attention to the fact that I’m only in panties. I must have left my dress on the couch with Marco earlier. What time is it? Who is this man? How did he get in?

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am,” comes his reply a second before his mouth crashes down on mine in a brutal kiss that sends my senses spinning into a black hole.

His mouth is fire itself, robbing me of air, of will, of thought. There is nothing except the dark shadow in my bedroom at that moment, and I don’t care. I curl into him, allowing him to take charge of the kiss until I’m whimpering, grinding into the air.

“Beautiful,” he purrs. “So beautiful.”

The intruder drops a kiss on one corner of my mouth, and then another at the edge of my jaw, and then his tongue is dragging over the pulse in my neck.

“Oh god,” I gasp, desire arching through me like a wild fire.

The man pushes me down to the bed, and I lie back willingly, curious, eager. I see the dark outline of him kneeling between my thighs, my breath hitching. His mouth around my hard nipple is like a brand against my skin.

“Ahh,” I let out a desperate cry when his teeth scrape over the stiff peak.

He rolls the other one between his thumb and forefinger and begins to pluck at it. Gently at first, and then harder and harder, until I’m sobbing. The combination of pain and pleasure drives me wild.

Finally, he relents, and I feel his hardness against my soaked center.

“Argh!” I scream, nearly arching off the bed when he thrusts fully into me. It feels like I’m being torn apart, but at the same time, the fullness is exactly what I need.

“Breathe for me, baby,” the man commands.

I find myself drawing in large gusts of air, chest rising and falling slowly, the air shuddering in and out of me, while I get used to feeling him so deep in me. “You feel so good.”

“It’s going to feel even better.” His words are a dark promise that I believe.

When he rolls his hip into mine, I believe him. Soon we’re moving together, meeting each other thrust for thrust. Pleasure builds inside me, climbing higher and higher until it reaches the peak. I throw my head back as I start to come, body convulsing with the force of my orgasm.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I chant, hips still rolling, grinding down.

When I open my eyes, I’m alone in the room, the curtains are drawn, allowing moonlight to streak into the room. Tears are still streaming down the sides of my eyes from the intense orgasm, and my hands are soaked with my juices.

What kind of dream was that—and why did it feel so real?