Page 99 of Broken Mafia Bride

Did she fall in love with me?

That’s the question that’s been stuck in my head. Was I so blind that I didn’t see her slowly falling for me? Or was she just desperately trying to secure her future?

Before I can spiral into another wave of dark thoughts that make it hard to breathe, I hear the bathroom door open and footsteps approaching. I know who it is immediately, and something inside me loosens, just knowing she’s close.

Then Giulia presses up against my back, a breath shuddering out of her.

“You should be resting,” I say gently.

“I could say the same about you,” she whispers, her hand curling over my shoulder, brushing lightly against the stitching there.

I catch her hand and pull her forward, spinning us around so she ends up standing between me and the sink. She lifts her head, eyes meeting mine—and a memory flashes through my mind: blood, a scream, and the sound of something breaking that might’ve been a heart.

“How are you doing?” Giulia asks. “Everyone keeps asking if I’m okay, but I didn’t know Isabella for the last four years. You did. She was your fiancée.”

“I guess her place in my life was always clear to everyone,” I tell her. Then, softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she blurts out, her lashes lowering. “I should have?—”

“There’s no room for blame in here,” I say, pressing my thumb lightly against her lips to shush her. “At least not now. We have all the time in the world to dissect it. Right now, you should be resting.”

“Nothing on the shooter?”

“Nothing but that he blended in with the guests until it was time to act. He escaped during the chaos. But we’re looking for him—Pepe and me.”

“Still, it’s just not adding up. Are you sure there isn’t anything else you’re missing?”

I shake my head, about to tell her about the guy from the fighting ring—but decide against it. The last thing Giulia needs is to get more worked up than she already is. Isa’s death has taken a toll on her, and I’ve watched her check out of conversations, watched her look lost and afraid. I’ve seen her draw herself up with the last of her strength, all just to keep the rest of us from worrying.

“I don’t understand,” she croaks. “Why would someone come after Isa? She never did anything to anyone. It has to be the same person who has Noemi. Do you think our daughter is…”

She trails off, her face draining of color.

It’s the first time she’s called Noemi ours, and a tension I hadn’t even known I’d been carrying around dissipates.

“I don’t think the person was after Isabella. The bullet grazed me. An inch of her moving in the wrong direction and…”

Fuck. I can’t even bring myself to say it out loud. I’m hurting so bad right now, but the look on Giulia’s face tells me I can’t afford to break down more than I already have. I need to be strong for her.

I lean in.

“I swear to you, Giulia,” I tell her, cupping her face and raising her head so her eyes meet mine. “We’ll find our kid and we’ll bring her back.”

“You can’t promise me that.” She tries to blink the tears back. “I’m starting to think that?—”

I seal my mouth over hers before she can voice whatever horrible thoughts have been haunting her. I don’t want her to even put those words into the world. So I place my hand into the hair at the back of her head and pull her closer, slanting my mouth over hers again.

Her taste bursts against my tongue like fireworks, and my brain goes into overdrive.

She makes a desperate sound at the back of her throat, her hands clutching at me as she kisses me back. Suddenly, it’s no longer just a kiss to keep her from breaking. We’re two opposite ends of a magnet, and the walls between us crumble, allowing the force between us to bring us crashing together.

The torn fabric of our souls is being mended, and we’re both trembling.

There are so many words, so much left unsaid, but our mouths and hands convey everything:

I missed you.

I love you.