Page 48 of Broken Mafia Prince (His to Break #1)

“Our side,” I say with certainty.

She sucks in a breath, and her lips part open wordlessly.

I can see the wheels spinning in her head, so many thoughts, conflicting emotions, and denials rising on her tongue, but none of them are able to come out.

I know exactly what she feels. I, too, have been haunted by the conflict of wanting to fight on the other side while knowing it would seal my name as a traitor for life.

Can I live with myself knowing that I’m a traitor to my family? I don’t know, but I also know that I couldn’t live with myself if I did something that lends a hand in destroying Giulia and her family forever.

As I stare at her now, I’m not thinking about the wars or what’s coming.

I’m not thinking about the Syndicate involvement that has been a dead end, my father’s plots, or the fact that she’s engaged to some asshole.

The only thing I can think about is how much I want her in my arms, how much I want to reacquaint myself with the taste of her.

I want to shatter that icy resolve around her, make her whimper and beg for me.

“It’s not too late for us to leave everything behind and go away. We can be as far away from this as possible before the end of the day. I have enough money to?—”

She shakes her head, cutting me off. “You know it’s never been about the money.”

“The money can give us a fresh start,” I argue.

“What you’re saying is that you want me to run away from everything I’ve worked hard for my entire life. You want me to run away from everything I’m familiar with and put my entire life into your bloodstained hands!” she roars.

My heart gives one hard, painful thump in my chest. “Not any more bloodstained than the father you would do anything for.”

Her eyes harden. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That maybe you should take your father’s bullshit with a smaller pinch of salt,” I tell her.

“If you really don’t want to run away from this world and want to stay here and face whatever shit it throws at you, then you should be asking more questions.

I’m not the bad guy here, or at least, I’m not the only bad guy here. ”

“Somehow, you think that that redeems you.”

“Fuck redemption. I’ve never wanted it, and you know it,” I tell her hotly.

“I’m trying to protect you, for god’s sake.

I am the only one whose every action has been for the sole purpose of making sure that you don’t get caught up in the crossfire, but maybe I’m wasting my time.

You do seem to enjoy being a pawn in your father’s games. ”

“I am not a fucking pawn, I know exactly what I’m doing,” she retorts.

“Really?” I raise one eyebrow. “That might just be worse.”

“Excuse me?” Hazel eyes light up, searing me with fire.

I feel the heat of them like a physical thing against my skin, and for the first time since Giulia left me, the bone-deep coldness that’s become a part of me starts to dissipate.

I feel myself thaw out, my body reveling in this new feeling, soaking up the warmth and gaining more life.

I confidently step toward her, and she scrambles backward, eyes wide with terror.

I halt at the look. “Christ, baby, don’t look at me like that. You know I’d never hurt you.”

“On the contrary, Raffaele, you’re the only one truly capable of hurting me,” she says, so quietly I barely hear her.

Just then, another cool breeze flutters through the land. The sun has long since set, and now the sky is a dull gray. The only illumination in the park is a single street light at a distance away. It’s enough to see the way her arms wrap around herself, trying to fight off the cold.

“Are you allergic to coats?”

Her only reply is an eye roll. Without another word, I head toward her.

“Don’t come any closer,” she whispers.

I ignore her, moving until I’m standing right in front of her. I begin to shrug my jacket off.

“Stop!” she barks, eyes as big as saucers.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t a marriage proposal. You’re cold, you need this,” I point out.

“I never said it was a marriage proposal.”

“Then stop being so goddamn stubborn and accept the jacket.”

“When have you known me not to be stubborn?” she snaps back. “I don’t want your jacket. I’m fine, and in fact, if this discussion is over, I think I’ll be on my way.” She turns to walk away and then trips over a loose rock. Unbalanced by her four-inch stilettos, she starts to fall.

In the blink of an eye, I leap forward and wrap my arms around her body, pulling her into me. “How did I forget that you’re such a danger magnet?”

She stares up at me through wide eyes, silent. Eventually, she speaks up, but what she says next makes me wince. “Let me go, Raffaele.”

I know that the words mean more than just letting her go of her in this moment.

“I don’t know if I can,” I confess. “Especially now that I know that you’re making a mistake tying yourself to Alessandro.”

“It’s not a mistake.”

“You’re selling yourself, and what’s worse, you’re selling yourself short.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she repeats, but the words lack certainty.

“Do you?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but the words never come out. There’s an unreadable emotion behind her eyes, beneath the confusion and fear. I want to take all those things out and replace the look in her eyes with extreme joy, but I can’t do that if she won’t let me.

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Who does? You?”

“I don’t know that for sure, but I know I’ll be a whole lot better than him.” After a long pause, I finally gather the courage to ask, “Do you love him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“And that’s not an answer, either.”

“I don’t owe you an answer. I don’t owe you anything. I left because I knew that we were nothing but a pipe dream. We are chaos personified, and there is no way in hell this would have worked out. I saved us from a whole lot of stress.”

“All that work just to find yourself back here like you never left,” I scoff.

“I needed space to get over you, and I did,” she says flatly, but never releases the hold she has on me.

At that, I can’t help but laugh. “Look me in the eyes and lie to me that you don’t feel this, that you’re completely over this.”

Her eyes look into mine. “I don’t feel anything for you, I’m completely over this.”

“Liar.”

“You wanted to hear it. Now, let me go.” Her voice is lined with ice, her face as blank as a mask.

One of my favorite things about Giulia is that I’ve always been able to read her.

She thinks she does such a good job hiding behind her mask, but the truth is that her eyes are like windows to her soul.

Not this time, though. This time around, there’s nothing behind her eyes, and it infuriates me.

I want to make her as crazy as I am; I want to make her as desperate and needy for this as I am.

I can’t be the only one so torn over us.

With that resolve in mind, I rake my hands into the back of her lush curls. Her pupils flare, and I know I have her exactly where I want.

“You’re a bad liar,” I say one more time.

“Fuck you,” she snarls. “Fuck you, Raffaele, I’ve given you what you wanted. I’ve given you the words to cut this off as clean as possible. Why won’t you just let me go? Why won’t?—”

I never get to hear the rest of what she has to say, because at that moment, I pull her forward and smash my mouth against hers.

She sucks in a shuddery breath, trying to pull away, but I only deepen it, increasing my efforts and slanting my mouth over hers again and again and again until she’s surrendering to me with low mewling sounds.

“I shouldn’t want this,” she whispers between frantic kisses, her voice trembling, desperate like I am. “I hate how I can’t be anything but this around you, Raffaele. You make me so mad.”

“Then I guess,” I murmur against her lips, “crazy recognizes crazy, because I’ve been a goddamn lunatic since the moment I met you.”

And then we are kissing like we’ve been waiting for this moment for ages; we kiss like the fate of the whole world depends on it, clinging to each other like we’ll fall apart if we let go. Her scent fills my nose: flowers, her shampoo, and something new, sharp and sultry.

She moans into the kiss, and it makes all the blood in my body flow south; everything inside me is chanting yes , demanding more.

I brush my tongue against the seams of her mouth, requesting entry, and she opens for me immediately. My tongue slips into the warm heat of her mouth, and I drag mine over hers.

She makes a sound deep inside her throat, and it rumbles through me.

At that moment, the only thing I want to do is to strip her naked, push her down to the grass, and take her like an animal. But by some miracle, common sense manages to intrude, and I grudgingly pull away from the kiss. She stares at me with confusion.

“Why did you stop?” she breathes out.

“Because if I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop until I’ve fucked you for making me wait so long.”

“Ohh.” The small sound slips out of her mouth, her eyes darkening with lust. Ever so slowly, her tongue drags over her bottom lip, leaving it wet and shiny.

If she continues to look at me like that, I make no promises about what will happen next, so I decide that it’s time for me to get the hell out of here.

I’ll save us another perfect night together that’ll end with her quietly leaving, just like before.

I press a kiss to the top of her head, closing my eyes momentarily and breathing her in one more time.

“What’s between us is real, and I won’t let you marry that asshole. I won’t let you ruin your life.”

She starts to say something, but I cut her off before she can go through with it. I don’t know what she wants to say, but I know that whatever it is won’t help our situation. It’ll only leave another wound in the already messy scar tissue that is our relationship.

“Goodnight.” I spin on my heels and walk away without waiting for a response.

It gets harder each time to let her go. One day we’re going to be together, and neither of us will ever have to walk away again. I just know it.

I slide into my car, still tasting her on my lips. I wasn’t done tonight. Not even close.

I’d been sitting here for twenty-three minutes and forty-six seconds before Alessandro Ferrara stumbled through his front door.

I know everything about him—how he orders his scotch, how often he checks his reflection, and how he keeps his gun in his left pocket, even though his draw is sloppy as hell. I know his weaknesses, his tells, his every twitch—because he’s holding something that belongs to me.

The door swings shut behind him, and the second he sees my shadow in the dark—leaning back against his own kitchen counter like I own the place—his whole body locks up. His hand twitches toward his pocket.

“Don’t,” I murmur, lazy but clear.

He freezes. Smart boy.

I swirl the last of his whiskey in my glass, then set it down on the counter with a soft click. That sound lands harder than a gunshot in the silence between us.

My face comes into view, lit by the city lights spilling through the window—and his face drains of color. He freezes, like a deer staring down headlights.

He knows who I am.

Good.

I make no move to stand, no threat. I don’t have to. My name has already done all the work for me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he breathes, voice shaking just a little.

I swirl the glass, watching the amber catch the light. “You already know—you’re leaving her,” I say, voice soft. “Tonight.”

His brows snap together. “Giulia? This is about Giulia?”

“Don’t act surprised. We both know you were never supposed to have her.”

“She’s my fiancée.”

“No,” I say, my voice flat. “She’s not. She was just a placeholder—a deal your family made with her father. But me?” I lean forward. “I don’t give a fuck about that deal.”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “If this is about family politics?—”

“It’s not,” I cut him off. “This isn’t about the Ferraras. Or her family. This is about Giulia.”

I see it in his eyes—the moment he realizes this isn’t business. It’s personal. And I can almost hear the puzzle pieces clicking together in his head. He doesn’t know exactly why I care so much, but he knows enough.

When men like me show up, there’s no negotiating.

“You’re telling me to walk away from my own fiancée,” he says slowly.

“I’m not telling you.” I sit back again, stretching my legs out. “I’m giving you a choice.”

He swallows hard. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I bury you.” My voice never rises. It doesn’t have to. “I start with you. And after that, I go after everyone with your last name. And when I’m done, you’ll wish you’d never met her.”

His hand trembles where it rests on the table. “You’d go to war over this?”

“I’d go to hell over her.”