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

Chapter 54

 You find out what you are made of when you have a broken heart. If it happens early and often, all the better."

~Isabel Gillie~

Raphael

*Unedited*

Alberto stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking weary at me. It had been over a decade since we were intentionally in the same room solely because I did not subscribe to most of his dealings and policies. There was no line Alberto couldn't cross, no sacrifice too big; in fact, he could sell his own mother to the devil if it guaranteed him the power he seemed to crave.

"Let me get this straight; you had my woman kidnapped because you want me to allow Antonio to continue prostituting children?"

I shouldn't be surprised, yet I was. The fact that men over seventy years wanted to engage in a sexual trade between children as young as ten was as horrendous, sickening as it was perverted.

My head was swirling. It felt like my brain was swooshing around, trying to settle in a particular space inside there. Alberto men stared at me like they were afraid I was going to snap and go trigger happy as I had done to one of their guys who now laid beside them, his right cheek touching the ground and one leg tucked beneath the knee of the other.

I was tempted. I was really tempted.

Feeling tired and surprisingly alone, which was ironic because Romano and Bruno stood beside me, I turned to Alberto, my eyes fixed on him, my gun clenched tightly on my hand—not because I was afraid he was going to shoot me, but because I was angry, pissed and raging to be forced in this meeting.

I was also furious because he had used my relationship with Sophie for his own selfish reasons; messed up my relationship because he wanted to be part of nefarious activities.

"Look, man, it's just business. All I'm asking you is to look the other way or join us, it's a lucrative business, and I hear you're an astute businessman."

Again I looked at him. This time I stared at him until he started fidgeting, taking his time removing his leather gloves and placing them in his coat.

The atmosphere in the room changed, suddenly it became chilly, and I could literally feel most of the guys in the room holding their breath.

I walked to the side of the room without saying a word, standing by the window overlooking the surrounding. No one was out there, just birds and wildlife.

I wide opened the window, hearing the squeaky sound probably caused by rusty joints coated in reddish—almost the color of the soil.

It reminded me of the first time I flew Sophie to the French Riviera. That first time I opened the window to our bedroom, which overlooked a flower garden and a stream visible from the huge window and the white-colored door. That squeaky sound had been the same as this.

She had screamed in surprise, her small feet jumping up and down as she threw the door open, surpassing me to run through the garden to the stream.

Her face had been bright and glowed in excitement. It made me really proud to have been the one to put it there. I had never taken any other woman in there, had never wanted to. In fact, Sophie was the only woman to have ever graced any of my residents, all the others I met in hotels.

"Who sent the video to Sophie?" I asked. I wanted this meeting over. I wanted to find my girl, apologize and take her in my arms.

It wasn't going to be that simple, I knew that, but it didn't hurt to hope that this experience had mellowed her a little bit.