Page 106 of Broken Mafia Bride

“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.”

33

GIULIA

Ipress two fingers to my temple, rubbing them in circles to ease the pulsing headache that’s slowly becoming a constant for me. No matter how much pain relief I take, it never drives it away completely—it merely fades to a low hum at the back of my skull.

Stepping into the kitchen, I cross the tiled floor in the dark and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I quickly uncap it and gulp it down, sighing as the cool water slides down my dry throat. I press my head to the fridge with an exhausted breath.

Since the night of Isabella’s burial, when Raffaele left, I haven’t been able to sleep for longer than an hour. Worry, second thoughts, fear, anxiety—they all press down on me like a ten-ton weight, robbing me of breath. Every night, I wake up gasping for air, feeling like something is pressing down on my chest.

I miss Raffaele.

After years of sleeping alone or with just my daughter’s tiny body curled into mine, I suddenly miss his big, comforting warmth wrapped around me.

I let out another sigh, and just then, an arm goes around my waist, pulling me back into a hard wall of muscle.

“I’m here.”