Page 82 of Broken Mafia Bride
“Jesus Christ, Isabella. Stop it! Just stop!” I roar, stepping away and dragging my hands through my hair in frustration. “No matter what, you can’t replace her. Nobody can.”
She thrusts her jaw in the air. “Good luck convincing her to be with you.”
“If you try to come between us?—”
“I don’t need to do anything,” Isabella tells me. “Giulia is too honorable to try to split up a family.”
A headache starts to pulse at my temple. This entire conversation has been nothing but circles.
“We’re not a fucking family. How do I even know that baby is mine? How could one night result in… that?”
She exhales sharply, visibly stung, but holds her ground.
“Raffaele,” she says, voice low but firm. “I know you’re angry. Confused. But don’t take it out on me by throwing around accusations you don’t mean. This baby is yours. One night is all it takes—you know that as well as I do. And I would never lie about something like this. Whatever you think of me, I deserve better than that.”
The more I try to take control of this conversation, the deeper I seem to dig myself into a hole. At this point, the smartest thing I can do is walk away. I’m wasting my time explaining myself to the wrong person.
“No matter what, you and I will never be a family,” I tell her, and pain flashes in her eyes for a second before they harden again. “I like you, Isabella, but Guilia’s always been the one, and she’ll always be the one, and you deserve far better than a man whose soul belongs to someone else.”
I see tears well up in her brown eyes, and then she turns away from me. I feel sick knowing that I’m the reason she’s hurt, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t fix this for her; I don’t even have any clue how I’m supposed to fix it for myself.
This whole situation is turning Isabella into someone I barely recognize, and I just hope it’s a fluke—something we can work through. I don’t want to be the kind of man who walks away from his kid. Isabella will be the mother of my child, but that’s all she’ll ever be.
I have to find Giulia and make that clear to her.
Hurrying down the hallway, I make my way to Lucio Sanna’s office. The door is wide open, and only Enrico is inside. He’s in the same seat I left him in, his head bowed and shoulders hunched.
He looks like the very picture of a broken man, and suddenly, I see myself sitting exactly where he is. If I don’t get my shit together, I’ll lose Giulia, and this’ll be me, years from now: bitter, hollow, resenting every trace of happiness around me.
Or worse… maybe I’ve already lost her.
I step away carefully, leaving him to it.
At the end of the hallway, a maid stands with a laundry basket tucked under her arm.
“Have you seen Giulia?” I ask. The woman starts, eyes wide at the suddenness of my voice.
“Uh… Miss Montanari rode off on the back of a man’s bike a few minutes ago,” she replies cautiously.
“Do you know where they went?”
She shrugs. “Probably a date. The weather’s perfect for a picnic, no?”
I turn without a word and march out of the house. Outside, I drop onto the steps leading to the front door. I’m staying right here until she comes back. And when she does, I’m going to explain everything—make her understand that maybe there’s still something left to fight for.
There has to be.
This can’t be the end of us.
No fucking way.
25
GIULIA
“Where are we going?” I raise my head from where it’s been buried in Marco’s back and glance around, suddenly conscious of my surroundings.
For the past few minutes, my mind has been racing with thought after thought about Raffaele and my cousin’s baby. Maybe the right thing is to step away and let them become the family everyone seems to think they should be.
