Page 87 of Broken Mafia Bride

My blood turns to ice in my veins. “You can’t say that.” I bury my head in the crook of her shoulders. “How can you say that? Fate wouldn’t be so cruel. Giulia, I love you. I love you so much, baby, and I can’t lose you.”

“Raffaele—”

“I can’t,” I tell her fervently, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her soft skin.

“This isn’t a good time for me—for us.” Her voice breaks a little. “I don’t know what’s left for us, but I think we should both focus on Noemi right now. She needs us. I need to put one hundred percent into finding her—for now.”

I understand that—fully. Or at least a part of me does—the logical part that knows she’s in a difficult place. But then there’s the desperate side of me that sees this as goodbye, as her giving up on us.

“And then? After you find her, what’s next?”

“Please, don’t ask me that.”

Her pulse is fluttering wildly in her neck, and I drag my mouth to it, my lips brushing softly over that pulsing spot.

“Say there’s a chance for us. Tell me this isn’t it.”

Giulia makes a slight choking sound and pulls away from me, eyes wide. Even though I can see the tremble in her hands, her voice is surprisingly steady when she says. “As I said, finding Noemi is what’s important. Let’s focus on that.”

She starts to step away, but I shift to the side, the move causing our bodies to be pressed close together, mouths barely an inch apart. I can feel her ragged breath against my mouth, and I want to close the distance between us, take her mouth into mine, and taste her fear, let her taste my desperation in turn.

“Giulia.” I reach for her, fingers brushing the inside of her wrists. She shivers, a soft, barely audible gasp slipping out ofher mouth. Electricity crackles and pops between us, the room seeming to come alive.

Just for a moment, though?—

Her eyes flutter shut for a long second, and when she opens them again, there’s determination shining in her hazel gaze.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is. Let me go, Raffaele. Let this—us—go.”

This time, when she pulls away, I’m powerless to stop her. I can only watch as the distance between us grows wider and wider—until it feels like she’s a whole world away, somewhere I have no hope of ever reaching her.

When she leaves, the kitchen gets dimmer, colder. She’s taken all the light away with her, and with it, the last bloom of hope that had begun to come alive inside of me. I can feel it wither now, leaves falling and scattering.

“How touching,” Isa’s voice cuts in from behind me.

I try to ignore her, but she steps around to face me, a strained smile fixed on her lips.

“Almost brought a tear to my eye,” she says, voice calm and measured. “It’s the kind of moment that belongs on screen. Well played.”

I spare her the briefest of glances. “Go to hell.”

She grabs my arm before I can walk away. “You heard Giulia, right? She doesn’t want you.”

I shrug out from her hold and continue on my way. I’m barely in control of my legs as I stagger through the dimly lit hallways. Once or twice, I almost turn around to go in search of Giulia again, but Isa is right about one thing.

She doesn’t want me.

I tear my bedroom door open and stumble into it, ripping off my clothes right from the doorstep. My head is spinning, and the itch for alcohol is almost overwhelming, but I haven’t touched it since that unfortunate night with Isa.

That night was all the lesson I needed about the effects of alcohol. After all, it’s cost me the one thing I care about on this fucking planet.

I turn on the shower and step under the punishing cold spray. The water hits me like icy bullets, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I stand there for what feels like ages, a husk of a man. A man who lost everything, finally found it, and lost it all over again—and maybe for good this time.

There’s no solution to this.

Giulia has made her decision, and I’ll respect that. I have no choice but to. I don’t even blame her for not wanting to get tangled up in this complicated situation with me.

The pain I feel is a thousand times worse than all the bullets, knives, and punches I’ve taken in my life. This one isn’t fleeting, and popping painkillers isn’t going to stop it.