Page 39 of Broken Mafia Bride
“Because I’m not willing to be your fucking Messiah and sacrifice myself?”
“The problem is that you think marrying anyone else but her will be sacrificing yourself,” he says. “Get your head out of your ass, Raffaele. If I had to do it, I’d have done it. Unfortunately, it’s up to you. It’s just marriage, man. You can keep on searching for her or whatever, and I’m sure she’ll understand when she—uh—comes back.”
“Hey, you’re a Gagliardi too,” I smile coldly. “Go marry the damn girl and save the city. I’m sure your wife will understand. It’s just marriage, after all.”
“You two should quit it,” Matteo finally cuts in. “You’re both beginning to sound ridiculous.”
“You know I’m right, Matteo,” my cousin insists. “You know I am. Talk to him, maybe he’ll listen to you.”
I look over at Matteo and see a grimace on his face. The look tells me everything I need to know. He thinks I should go ahead with what everyone wants and seal the deal with Isabella.
I can only drag this out for so long.
It’s stupid to feel betrayed that no one’s on my side about this. Not that I fucking need them to be. I’ve been searching for her on my own, and I’ll keep doing it—alone. I open my mouth to say as much, but a noise behind me cuts me off.
“What’s going on there?” Gino asks.
“Some punks are trying to get through the bouncers and get into the club,” Matteo says, taking a sip of his drink.
I rise to my feet and walk over to them. A group of six stands outside the red demarcation of the VIP area. None of them looks like they’re even of legal drinking age.
“What’s going on here?” I ask Milo, the bouncer.
“They’re insisting that they have VIP tickets, and I’ve tried to tell them that the VIP lounge is inaccessible tonight, but they won’t get lost.”
“Shut up, baldie,” one of the boys snaps. He has tattoos scattered around his body and even a small cross under one eye. He appears to be the gang leader—a little boy playing at being a big, bad wolf.
“Go home, kid,” I tell him. “Your trouble isn’t welcome here.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but hesitates when he glances over my shoulder and spots the other two men. “Look, we’re here with our girls. We’ve already promised them a good night. Just let us in, bro.”
I grit my teeth at being called “bro” by this kid.
“The VIP lounge isn’t open today.” So maybe shutting it down for only my use for the day is an asshole move, but it’s my goddamn club. I can do whatever I want.
“But you three were just in there,” he snarls.
Gino snorts. “Jesus Christ, get lost, kids. None of you can afford a bottle up here anyway.”
The boy grins, showing off a gold tooth. “Says who? We got money.”
“You can take your money somewhere else.” My voice is harder. I was already pissed at my solo time being interrupted by first the blonde, then Matteo and Gino. The last thing I need are loud, wannabe gangsters bothering me.
“Why not?” He sneers. “You think the Gagliardis are too good to touch the Contis’ dirty money? Yeah, I know who you are. You’re Raffaele Gagliardi.”
“You know that, and you’re still standing here mouthing off,” Matteo sighs. “Did you sell your brain for that gold tooth, kid?”
“I’m not a kid!” he snaps, red rising up his cheeks.
I drag a hand over my face. I feel way too old to be dealing with shit like this. “Come back tomorrow, the VIP lounge will be open for you then.”
I turn to leave, more than eager to go back to my bottle of whiskey.
“Raffaele, watch out!” Matteo roars.
I spin around, but it’s too late. It happens all in the blink of an eye. I see the kid’s arm arcing down, something glinting in his hand. Gino is already stepping in front of me when I turn around. The blade stabs into his side, and he drops to the floor.
Matteo and the bouncer are disarming the boys, pinning them to the ground while pulling out their phones to call emergency services.
