Page 94 of Broken Mafia Bride

I’m familiar with how the fighting rings work, and I know that there’s a lot of useful information passed around between fights and bets. I turn to head toward my closet but come toa screeching halt at the sight of Isa standing there—silent, her posture rigid with tension.

How the fuck did I not notice her? And why does she keep showing up everywhere?

“Why the hell are you here?” I ask her coldly. “You can’t just walk into my room whenever you please. I wanted separate rooms for a reason.”

Isabella’s voice is calm, but laced with razor-sharp sarcasm. “Let me guess, so you could have the privacy to jerk off to my cousin until kingdom come?”

I should ignore her, but sometimes, riling her up feels just as satisfying.

“At least thinking about her brings me pleasure. You just make me sad.”

She gives a tight, dismissive smile, clearly unaffected. “There’s a dinner at Pepe’s house tonight. Wear something nice, and don’t be late.”

I snort. “Count me out. I’m not a circus monkey you can dress up and display.”

Her eyes frost over. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult? We are getting married, for fuck’s sake. Is it so bad to want my fiancé at dinner with me?”

Pushing past her, I pull out a dark T-shirt and jeans from the closet. “I have shit to do.”

“Giulia will be there.”

I freeze, my throat suddenly going dry. I glance over my shoulder and catch her eyeing me shrewdly. Even though we’re living under the same roof, I haven’t seen Giulia in three days. Since that kiss after we found Martina dead. If she was avoiding me before, she’s taken it a step further now.

I can’t believe I’m now at a point where I’m so desperate for even a glimpse of her.

“I’ll see if I can make time,” I tell her.

Isa rolls her eyes, a mocking laugh escaping her lips. I wait until the door has shut behind her before I release the breath I’ve been holding. I’m suddenly filled with anticipation at the thought of tonight, but first things first: I need to find out some useful information about La Rete Rossi and Noemi’s disappearance.

The underground ring is located at the outskirts of Sardegna near the docks. I park the car I borrowed from Lucio’s garage a distance away and walk down to the rundown building with graffiti-covered walls. A few men hang around the entrance smoking. When I walk past, I see them tense, and my hand reaches for my gun.

Luckily, they don’t make a move, and I slip into the building without incident.

The place looks like a typical warehouse, with crates stacked around it and another group of men smoking in the corner. I walk past them to the metal door at the back, and as soon as I push it open, a wave of noise assaults me.

A fight is already in full force somewhere beyond the screaming crowd. I make my way around them, settling in one corner. From here, I can see the ring—and the violence unfolding inside it. The crowd roars, cheering as one of the fighters drives his fist into his opponent’s face again and again.

From the corner of my eye, I spot some figures exchanging something in the dark, and I have no doubt it’s drugs. The entire place is a pit of immorality. A half-naked woman is being fucked against a wall in one shadowy corner, and when she turns her head, her dead gaze meets mine.

The entire place reeks of unwashed bodies and desperation, and the sooner I can get out of here, the better.

“Hey,” I grab a passing man by the elbow. “What do you know about La Rete Rossi?”

He spits. “Bunch of hooligans. Who’s asking?”

“Someone whose kid is missing,” I reply cryptically. “Who runs their operations in the States?”

The man blinks at me. “The States? You mean the United States? What the fuck does La Rete Rossi have to do with the States?”

Confusion washes over me, and I pull out a picture of Noemi. “Ever seen her?”

He peers at the picture and shrugs. I pull out Martina’s picture. “What about her?”

Suddenly, the man tenses. “Look, I’ll warn you to stop whatever it is you’re digging into. He won’t like it.”

“Who won’t like it?”

The man tears his arm away and rushes off, glancing around nervously. The next few people I talk to have pretty much the same reaction. They keep on mentioning ahim, leaving me even more confused than ever. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?