Page 43 of Broken Mafia Prince (His to Break #1)

RAFFAELE

“ S top pouting.”

I glance up from my glass of bourbon and shoot my best friend a glare. There are only a handful of people who can get away with talking to me this way, and Matteo is one of them.

“I’m not pouting.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, settling into the chair directly in front of me. His hard gaze meets mine. “Only little girls pout. I meant to say you’re brooding like a big, bad, macho mafia capo .”

“Go to hell.”

“If I don’t have to see that beaten-dog expression on your face for the rest of my life, then I’ll gladly go to hell and stay there.”

I reach for the bottle to pour another, but before my fingers can make contact, he snatches the bottle away and fills his empty glass. I grit my teeth in annoyance, knowing that I can’t bury a bullet or two into his empty skull.

“Do you have a death wish?”

His mouth curls into a grin that promises nothing good. I brace myself for whatever nonsense that’s about to come out of his mouth, and I’m not disappointed.

“Of course not. Why would I have a death wish? I’m young, good-looking, have all my body parts working perfectly, plenty of money, a long line of women who want me, and I’m not being a little bitch about a woman I let walk away and can get back in the blink of an eye.”

I eye him, wondering if he hasn’t heard or if he’s being obtuse on purpose. “She’s getting married.”

“Correction, she’s engaged.”

I raise one eyebrow. “There’s a difference?”

“Until she’s said the I do’s, it’s not too late.

” He pauses. “No, let me revise that statement. Even then, it’s not too late.

She’s engaged to some loser. I had to do some research to find out who he was when I first heard his name.

Trust me, she doesn’t want to be with Alessandro.

” He spits out the name like it’s a personal affront to him.

“The Giulia I know would never do something she doesn’t want to do.” That’s the part that’s kept me up since that day I saw her name light up Isa’s phone.

I wasn’t doing a good job keeping her out of my head in the first place, but any progress I’d managed to make went right out the window as soon as I saw that call. I almost wish I hadn’t seen it. What did she want? Why now? Have I always been alone in my feelings for her?

“That guy is a clown.”

“Get off it, Matteo,” I grit out. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

He shoots me a look that I can’t interpret. “You don’t?”

“Didn’t I just say that I don’t?” I hiss, tension making the muscles of my shoulders bunch up. I’m this close to just saying fuck it and getting my friend’s face acquainted with my fists. I have a feeling he wouldn’t be all that interested in bringing up Giulia with a few of his teeth missing.

“If I agree to stop talking about her, will you agree to stop moping about her?”

“Who’s moping?” a soft voice cuts in.

The look I shoot at Matteo clearly tells him to keep his big mouth zipped, but he either doesn’t understand or intentionally wants to get on my very last nerve.

“Raff,” he says, ignoring my murderous look.

Isabella drops into the seat opposite me and grabs my bottle of wine. Sighing, I catch the eye of one of the servers and motion at the pilfered bottle, ordering another. I’m not surprised when the brunette sits up, wide, curious eyes fixing on me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her before she can start cross-examining me. “Shouldn’t you be in some club, breaking men’s hearts?”

“Those are just rumors.” She winks. “I don’t only break hearts in clubs.”

Matteo snorts. “No wonder you two get along so well. The entire population of Chicago has fallen victim to one of you at one point or another.”

“What are you moping about?” Isa asks.

And here I was thinking I’d successfully managed to distract her from the original topic of conversation. It’s one of the ways the cousins are similar. When they pick an interest in something, they become dogs, never letting off until they’ve sniffed out the answer.

“I’m not?—”

Matteo interrupts. “Giulia.”

“Giulia? You mean my cousin?” she asks slowly. “Or is there a new Giulia I haven’t been filled in about?”

“The one and only.”

“I thought we were past her.” She cocks her head at me, her forehead lined in confusion.

I was. Or at least, I thought I was.

For lack of someone else to blame, all fingers point to Isa. She should have put her phone in her purse. Why does she bother carrying designer purses that a whole house can fit into, only to leave her phone lying about?

“Because she’s engaged,” Matteo replies.

She ducks her head and pretends to be inspecting her nails. “Hmm.”

Above her head, my best friend raises one eyebrow at me and flicks his gaze down to the brunette’s bowed head.

“You knew she was engaged.” It’s not a question, and we both know it.

“She only told me once, through that text she sent last year. She hasn’t reached out since.

She knew I’d press her for her location if she called.

My stubborn self even changed my number after that.

Besides, it wasn’t any of our business then, and it still isn’t yours now.

” Isa’s sharp eyes lock onto mine. “It’s not like anything has changed between the two of you. ”

She’s right that it's not any of our business, especially mine. What happened between us felt like a month-long fever dream, one that hurt when I woke up from it. It’s foolish of me now to feel betrayed that she didn’t sit on her ass this whole time, waiting for me to fix everything so she could return to a perfect world.

“You should have told me anyway,” I insist, teeth grinding together.

Something shifts in her eyes, and she hastily turns away before I can place the expression. She snatches the bottle I’ve just ordered from the approaching waitress and fills her cup to the brim.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Matteo chides, but she ignores him.

“You’re not going to find her,” Isa suddenly says, eyes locked on mine. “And even if you do, you’ll be disappointed. She’s not the girl you used to know, not even close.”

Annoyance floods through me, and I find myself talking to her in a tone I’ve never used with her before. It’s a tone generally reserved for assholes trying to rip me off. “So am I.”

“You don’t understand,” she tries to argue. But the last thing I need at that moment is the painful truth. I need a drink… or two.

I rise to my feet. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Raffaele,” she says with a desperate tone that gives me pause, reaching out for me in an aborted move. I choose to ignore it all. I don’t stop walking until a firm grip lands on my shoulders, halting me. I whirl around, staring my best friend down.

“You can save your breath,” I hiss. “If you’re here to tell me that Isabella is right and she’s a bad idea?—

“I’m not stupid enough to try and tell you what to do,” Matteo snorts. “Or to get in between you and the determination in your eyes.”

I narrow my eyes at him in suspicion, and he raises his hands in surrender, chuckling.

“What are you going to do?”

My reply is instantaneous. “I’m going to find her.”

He pauses. “And then what? Are you going to drag her kicking and screaming back into your life?”

I snort. “A second ago, you were telling me that it’s not too late for us. Whose goddamn side are you on, anyway?”

“You know I’m on your side. You’ve been fucking miserable, and I’m glad you’ve snapped out of it to actually do something about it.”

“But?” I press.

“Nothing, man.” He sighs. “I just hope opening old wounds will be better for you.”

The only thing I’m sure of is that having Giulia Montanari in my arms again will be better for me.

I’m not really thinking of the logistics right now.

I’ve always been a planner; I like to have my ducks in a row and contingencies in place before embarking on anything, but for this, I’m going to jump headfirst and think later.

“What are you going to do when you find her?” he asks again.

I turn and walk away. I don’t have an answer for him, and he knows it. With her, it’s always questions. As soon as I answer one, another one takes its place. When I step out of the bar, the valet hands me my car keys.

I peel out two hundred-dollar bills and hand them to him before sliding into the car. I step on the gas, peeling out of the street. The entire journey back to my penthouse apartment is a blur, and I’m relieved when I pull into my underground parking garage without getting into an accident.

The elevator deposits me on my floor, and I step into my home. I toss my suit jacket off and go to the bar at the corner, swiping a desperately needed bottle of alcohol. My phone rings as I head for my room, and I ignore it.

My entire business can burn to the ground right now, for all I care. I can’t find it in me to be bothered about drug shipments and gun sales. I need a fucking break.

I gulp down the drink, relishing in the burn that spreads down from my throat to my stomach, hoping the alcohol will finally help to numb me against thoughts of her. But just like every other thing that I’ve done to try and erase her from my head, it doesn’t work.

Not taking a million other women to bed, not drowning myself in work and family. None of it ever works.

“Kiss me.” Her desperate plea from years ago echoes in my head now.

With it comes the memories of how she had looked at me, like she’d die if I didn’t put my hands on her. And so I had. I’d sealed my fate, and with that kiss, I’d engraved her into my soul.

All the blood rushes down south now as I remember how she tasted, the sounds she made, the way she melted into me with blind trust. My cock jerks in my pants, and I let the bottle slip from my hands, eager fingers going for my belt and zipper.

Finally, my hand is around my hard length, a full-body shudder going through me.

“You’re better than this,” I mutter to myself even as I start tugging. I squeeze my eyes shut, images of Giulia swirling through my head. How she had ground down on me, rocking into my mouth, offering me more of her.

“Fuck,” I bite out, hands moving faster and faster until it becomes a blur.

Pleasure curls through me and settles somewhere at the base of my spine.

“Please.” Behind my eyes, Giulia’s plump lips form the word, and a moan is ripped out of my throat.

My hands squeeze around the head of my leaking cock, collecting precum and using it as a lubricant to continue moving my hands.

“Giulia,” I groan, back arching as want sizzles through me. My teeth grind together as my body moves higher and higher, balls drawing up tight between my legs.

My mind provides me with image upon image of her, head thrown back, throat bared, pleasure written all over her face.

“Raffaele, oh god. Please,” she moans.

“Mine. Mine,” I chant.

In my imagination, she glances down at me through half-lidded eyes and responds, “Yours.”

Desire rips through me like an explosion, knocking down all my foundations in one fell swoop. My back bows as I start to come, and I continue to move my hands, riding out my orgasm.

Finally, I spurt out the last drop, and my body relaxes into the mattress. Not even all the threesomes and kinky sex I’ve had since Giulia has made me come that hard. I sigh, dragging a hand over my face.

If it wasn’t evident before that she’s ruined me for any other woman, it’s more than apparent now.