Page 31 of Broken Mafia Bride

He glances around. “I’ll miss this house and all the memories we’ve created here. I hope you stay, though, and create a whole lot of new ones.”

“Noemi will miss you,” I say just as quietly.

Our eyes meet and hold, and I know he can hear the words I don’t say. A small smile curves his mouth. “I know.”

I turn and bolt, rushing out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The pain comes just as I slip into my bed. Sobs wrack my body, and I curl up into a ball, fist pressed to my chest.

It’s the pain of being caught between two lives. The agony of knowing I’m letting go of something good—something solid—because my heart is still tethered to a ghost. It’s the pain of loving someone so deeply that even time can’t loosen the grip.

And the truth I’ve tried to bury rises all over again: I’ll never move on from Raffaele Gagliardi.

Not in this life.

Not even in the next.

10

RAFFAELE

In our world, it’s almost impossible for a woman to earn a seat at the table—let alone one where men shut up when she speaks. Regina Nera has carved out an empire for herself through her blood, sweat, and tears, and if there’s one thing I respect, it’s a person who’s fought through doubt and come out on top.

The business of high-end contraband and trade has always been a luxurious one. From rare diamonds to priceless art pieces, to designer goods, and antiques. The cunning and ambitious aristocrat takes it one step further by trading in a currency that’s more powerful than dollars.

Information.

In our world, information is power. Whoever has it has a fuck lot of control over others. It makes Nera both feared and respected. So, when she gives me a direct invitation to a meeting, there’s no way I can refuse, and she knows it.

Of course, if I had known that I’d be seated a few feet from Enrico Montanari and my father, I’d have laughed in her face and gone off to get shitfaced. I grit my teeth, tapping my footin impatience under the table. A hand drops down on my thigh, nails digging in.

I turn my head and see concern written all over Isabella’s face.

“I’m fine,” I tell her. She’s insisted on following me everywhere like a loyal dog, nagging at me when I drink too much and seizing my car keys when I want to go to the underground fighting ring. I know it’s her way of caring, but all of the pressure inside me needs an outlet, and eventually, she should be ready to deal with shit hitting the fan when I blow up.

“Are you?” she asks, eyeing the two older men carefully. “I’m surprised they aren’t shooting at each other.”

I snort. “Give it a minute. They just got here.”

“Who thought it was a great idea to have them both in the same location?” She grins at me. “I’ve already mapped out an exit for when they start roaring at each other.”

“This cannot continue,” one of the men spits. “I haven’t been able to do any business in over a month because local thugs have overrun my warehouses on the north side.”

“We have no more control over the streets and drug distribution,” another man adds. “It’s a mess, and I’m afraid this will be the perfect opportunity for these local gangs to get some sense of cooperation and take over.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” my father waves his hand dismissively. “There’s no way those greedy thugs will ever decide to work together.”

“That’s not the point,” Regina glares at him. “This damn war between your family and the Montanari is the exodus of the chaos happening on the streets now, and it simply can’t continue. It might have started as a family feud, but you both must realize that it’s escalated far beyond your control… all our control, as a matter of fact.”

I sigh, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in front of me. I ignore Isabella’s chiding look. If it bothers her so much, she’s free to walk away.

“Is that what this is?” Enrico sneers. “An intervention? Who the hell made you queen, Nera?”

He looks worse than the last time I saw him—gaunt, gray, like something vital has been hollowed out. His eyes are dead, his skin clings to sharp cheekbones, and he’s lost even more weight, like he’s been starving on grief. Losing your whole family without answers would destroy anyone.

I get it. At least a little.

I lost my mother. Then Giulia. Both ripped from me in ways that still don’t make sense. That kind of loss doesn’t fade—it infects you. Clings to your bones, crawls under your skin. Maybe I look like him now. A ghost in a tailored suit. A man walking through the world as a shadow of what he used to be.

The dark-haired, voluptuous woman leans back, mouth spreading into a smile that reveals her single diamond tooth. “Don’t be stupid, Enrico. I’m not trying to become the boss here. I’m simply doing what everyone here has been wanting to do for a while now. It’s long overdue, and you know it.”