Page 76 of Broken Mafia Bride
I lean forward and press my mouth over hers, lips brushing over each other softly, tentatively tasting. It’s not a kiss exactly, but we are so close, our breaths are mingled; just one tiny gesture, and I’ll close the distance. Fuck, it’s like tasting heaven after being stuck on earth for so long. My lungs expand, breathing her in and keeping her there behind my rib cage.
“Stop running from this, Giulia,” I whisper against her lips.
Her eyebrows furrow. “I don’t want to?—”
I move in to kiss her, to end whatever protest is lying on her lips, but then a voice cuts in.
“Hey, Ariel. Miss me?”
My mouth freezes a centimeter from hers, and the bubble we’ve been stuck in bursts right open with the arrival of the asshole fisherman.
Of course.
The past always shows up—especially when you’re finally ready to move forward.
23
GIULIA
“Marco!” I cry, jumping off the swing bench and closing the distance between us.
His strong arms wrap around me immediately, holding me tight. I sigh, relaxing into his embrace, relief washing over me at the familiarity of him. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been this whole time—until I was in his arms.
Raffaele’s presence in Casa Bianca has left me feeling a little on edge—anticipation, desire, and caution all pulling in different directions. It’s not that I’m not glad he’s here. It’s just that, given everything going on, he’s become another piece of a puzzle I haven’t quite figured out yet.
On the other hand, Marco is familiar—and more than that, he’s the only one here who truly knows Noemi. He’s been as much a parent to her as I have. He’s the only one who can understand even a fraction of what I’m feeling.
“Hey, Ariel,” he says. “How are you holding up?”
I pull back with a small, shaky smile. “About the same.”
“You look terrible,” Marco says with a smile.
“Ah, yes, just what every girl wants to hear,” I reply dryly. “What are you doing here?”
Even though we’re in the same area now, we haven’t had many chances to meet. His work keeps him away, and I get the sense he prefers to keep his distance from anything tied to the mafia.
“Yeah,” Raffaele says, his tone sharp. “What exactly are you doing here?”
Marco’s gaze shifts over my shoulder to where Raffaele stands a few steps behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know he’s glaring—probably posturing like some overpaid bodyguard.
A faint smirk plays on Marco’s lips. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Raffaele growls.
“For the love of god, you two need to cut it out,” I snap, irritated. The last thing I need is another pair of men in my life bickering like schoolchildren. I’ve had enough of that today.
“You heard her. Knock it off,” Marco adds.
I turn to him with narrowed eyes—and only then do I notice the faint bruises on his face. “What the hell happened to your face?”
“You should ask your baby daddy,” he responds coolly.
Behind me, Raffaele snorts. “Oh, I’m more than just a baby daddy.”
“Baby daddy is being generous,” Marco retorts. “More like sperm donor.”
“Which is more than anyone can say about you. You couldn’t even get a kiss. How’s that friend zone looking for you?”
