Page 113 of Broken Mafia Bride

Yet another fucking dead end.

35

GIULIA

Caterina has been saying something for the past half an hour or so, but I’ve been half tuned out, half asleep. The weather is nice and airy, and I can smell the salt of the ocean. I readjust myself on the lounge chair, sinking deeper into it.

“Giulia! Giulia!”

My eyes flutter open, and I stare at her. “What?”

There’s a gleam in her eyes, and a giggle slips out of her mouth. “Now I see what the other women were yapping about. Honestly, I get it now.”

I follow her line of sight and stop at the sight of a figure pacing on the balcony below us. My eyes bug out when I realize that it’s Raffaele. A shirtless and sweaty Raffaele.

He has a phone pressed to his ear, and whatever news he’s getting, he doesn’t look too happy about it. My gaze slides all over him, taking in the way muscles bunch and roll on his back and shoulders. I’ve seen him naked countless times, but there’s something particularly naughty and thrilling about standing out here peeking at him.

“I’m almost tempted to whip out my binoculars for a better look,” Caterina laughs.

My neck snaps to the side, and I raise an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?”

The only response I get from her is more laughter. It’s strange to me that I felt bothered when the other women were talking about Raffaele like he was a well-done steak, but I’m totally at ease with Caterina doing the same thing. My eyebrows furrow in confusion, and I wonder if it’s because I barely knew those women.

But then again, I knew Isabella plenty, and hearing her gush about Raffaele used to drive me up the wall.

“Take a picture,” I tease her. “It’ll last longer.”

She laughs. “You know what? That’s a great idea. Why didn’t I think of that myself?”

Caterina whips out her phone, and there’s a sound of a camera click. I gape at her, then leap for the phone. “Oh my god! Delete that.”

“No way.” She laughs, twisting away from my reach. “You’re the one who came up with the suggestion. What are you complaining about now?”

“Is that a rabbit?” I stare off into the distance with a feigned look of shock. Just as I predicted, she spins around, immediately distracted.

“Where’s the rabbit? Where did you see it? We have to?—”

I snatch the phone out of her hand while she’s distracted. “You’re so easy.”

“You tricked me!” she accuses, cheeks flaming with emotion.

I throw my head back and let out a peal of laughter. It’s the first genuine one I’ve had since the night of Isa’s assassination. Even though things with Raffaele and me are on the mend, there’s just been a lot of tension and fear, and everybody’s been treating me with kid gloves.

Like I’m one bad joke away from having a meltdown of catastrophic proportions.

“How didn’t you see that from a mile away?” I ask her, shaking my head as I delete the photo of Raffaele. Instead of returning the phone, though, I find myself scrolling over to the next picture.

It’s a blurry picture of a rose garden; the next one is of a turtle, then a blurry candid of Pepe.

“Sure, just go through my phone or whatever,” she grumbles, settling back into her lounge chair. “And I’m not going to listen to you bitch and moan when you eventually see my nude photos.”

I snort. “Every single picture in here is super blurry. I wouldn’t even be able to differentiate a boob from another of your four-legged friends.”

She shoots me an unimpressed look, and I grin at her before turning back to the phone. I swipe the screen for the next picture. This one is of the gardens at the back of the house. I’m about to swipe when my eyes register someone standing in the background of the photo.

All the blood drains from my face, and my hands go clammy as I stare at the familiar face.

I still remember opening the door and thinking that that face belonged to a sweet, middle-aged woman with whom I could eventually become friends. My heart is pounding so fast, blood is roaring in my head.