Bred In Violence (A Mafia Romance Book One) #𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏

Chapter 32

Love is when he gives you a piece of your soul that you never knew was missing
~Torquato Tasso~

Raphael

*Unedited*

I woke up in the morning, the sun in my eyes. Sophie slept soundly beside me, her hair spread on the pillow, which was closely touching mine and her face next to mine.

I could feel her breath on my face; she looked so peaceful sleeping, which overrode my selfish need to wake her and start the day with us tumbling over each other on this bed. Still, she needed to sleep off the jet lag—the fatigue she must be feeling considering the last eventful hours.

Smiling impishly, I remembered making love to her down on the beach, how amazing she felt and undeniably beautiful. I should have felt ashamed for taking advantage of her anxiousness to give a good first impression to my employees, but I wasn't. The fact that she wanted to walk around to compose herself before facing them did not stop me from laying her down and making love to her.

I descended the stairs, ready to go to the gym for an hour or so before Sophie woke up. I wanted to be with her for breakfast—having her around especially sitting down for meals, gave me a glimpse of what I imagined consisted of a normal family.

The only experience of the family I had was unorthodox. It included Romano and Bruno, whose idea of family was defined by loyalty. It's what shaped who we are, how far we all have come, and although we fought each other when we were young, it was never against each other.

We knew, as young as we were, that we only had each other.

I heard familiar voices when I neared downstairs. But that would be impossible, I thought. I left them in New York and the wee hours of the night.

"What the hell are you both doing here?" I asked, surprised that I didn't hear them land, considering helicopters are louder than thunder.

"Visiting," Bruno smirked.

"Visiting my ass," I retorted, annoyed that my few stolen days with Sophie were ruined.

I knew I was delaying from telling her who I was by seducing her with every means to my disposal into giving me more time with her.

A better man would feel guilty, but I wasn't a better anything; I was mercenary. I went after what I wanted and to hell with everything else.

Sophie was mine. She may think she had a choice; I may even let her think she had one, but she didn't. She was mine from the day our eyes met. But even in my arrogance, I knew I would lose her soon, not for long, because I was determined to do anything to get her back.

It was going to take a while before she could come to trust me again. But trust me again, she would.

While I went over what to tell Sophie and what to leave out, I wondered whether she knew anything about the mafia other than that, portrayed in books and movies.

I didn't want to tell her everything; it was my job to protect her from gruesome details even though the mafia was full of those.

I watched as the guys ate with gusto; Bruno's plate had every little morsel of everything available on the dining table.

Berta had outdone herself, probably trying to atone for being so rude to Sophie.

Romano's plate only had a toast, some bacon, and a steaming cup of coffee sitting beside his phone. He gave me a puzzled, judgmental look; I knew they were both surprised by my impromptu decision to visit Italy and in darkness.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He asked, his bacon and toast forgotten but holding the cup of coffee.

"I don't answer to you, Rom," I grunted, moving to pour myself a cup of coffee, completely forgetting I was about to go to the gym.