Page 95 of Broken Mafia Prince
“Then I’ll end this war,” he says with the kind of conviction that makes me want to agree with him.
But I’m not a child; neither of us is. Some things aren’t fixable. I pull my jeans up my legs and over my hips without another word. From the corner of my eye, I can see him doing the same.
It’s a far cry from the eager passion we used to undress. The cold seeps in now, and with it, the hard reality. We can choose to drag this thing out, but at the end of the day, we’ll be left bleeding out by a weapon of our own making.
“I never took you for a quitter,” he scoffs.
I slant him a glare. “I’m not.”
“But you’re running,” he points out. “It’s gotten a little hard, so you’re running instead of staying and facing it to the end.”
“What if I already know how it ends?”
He drags his hands through his hair. “That’s the thing. You think you do, but you don’t.”
I’m caught off guard again when he grabs me by my waist and pulls me into his lap. Raffaele bends his head and buries it into the crook of my neck, a breath shuddering out of him as the restof him slowly loses tension. I drag my fingers up his neck and rake them into the short hairs at the back of his head.
He moans, fingers deepening their hold on my hips.
“Raffaele, I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He’s quiet for a long time after I say I’m sorry. I almost think he won’t respond, but finally he does.
“I don’t want you to be sorry. Ever. This entire thing is none of our doing.”
A bitter laugh slips out of my mouth. “Really? ’Cause I don’t remember our fathers forcing us to meet or get naked at the back seat of your car.”
“What will you do?” The question makes me blink in confusion until he clarifies. “What do you think your new life would look like? I want you to know that you can have any of that here. I’d give you anything. Anything at all to make your life here the life you want.”
At that, tears roll from my eyes. I can’t remember the last time someone saw me cry. For far too long, I’ve been a strong, capable woman. Now all I want to do is fall apart so Raffaele can pick the pieces up and put me back together however he pleases.
Maybe the version of me who cares will be brave enough and suicidal enough to stay. Maybe that version will ignore all logical thought and choose him. Unfortunately, that version doesn’t exist.
I start to pull away from him, but he catches my face in his hands and slants his mouth over mine. Unlike our other kisses, this one isn’t hungry, desperate, full of boiling desire. This one is soft, sweet, a tentative plea.
All of me melts into the kiss; even my brain, which should be blaring red lights at me, has gone quiet. How Raffaele can bring both peace and chaos to my life has to be the biggest gag by the universe.
The kiss ends, but neither of us pulls away. We stay there, mouths against each other, breathing in the other’s air. I have the sudden urge to know what he’s thinking. Is he realizing that this is hopeless? Does he wish it had never started at all?
A sharp pain slices through my chest at that thought. Regardless of this heart-wrenching moment, I don’t regret any of it. If I could go back, I probably wouldn’t have wasted so much time fighting this; I’d have fallen right into it and filled every spare moment with him.
“This life I have is already tainted by so much. I deserve a fresh start, an opportunity to know who Giulia Montanari is. Who I really am when I’m not wrapped up in so many layers of armor to protect myself from this world.”
His mouth moves against mine. “We can make our own world here. We can create our own slice of heaven from this chaos. And it’ll be beautiful, baby. I don’t care about this world?—”
“You should,” I cut in.
“It doesn’t care about us, so why should I give a fuck about it?” he rants. “All we’ve done is be its puppets. Don’t you want to stay and fight against everything that has tried to keep us locked in little boxes? Don’t you want them to see you in your full potential and tremble?”
I shake my head. “I just want to be left alone.”
“Giulia—” He reaches for me, but I pull back, hurriedly putting on my shirt. His outstretched hand freezes in the air, and he stares at me with an expression that wrecks what’s left of me.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I don’t have the luxury of being selfish. I have to think about my father, too. He’s all I have left.” I wipe my eyes hurriedly with the back of my hands. “I care about you, too, but it’s too dangerous to stay. The Syndicate will continue coming after us. How long can we evade them?”
He remains silent, and it’s all the answer I need.
I hold his eyes. “Maybe someday.”
