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

Chapter 47

"No, I do not. My Italian vocabulary doesn't have Timo in it," He says that while tapping his nose continuously.

"Fine, I will cook you whatever you want."

"You think I'm that cheap."

"Yes"

I say that with a straight face. He chuckles and mumbles something that sounds like sucker under his breath, but I'm not sure.

He turns a little; his piercing green eyes fixed on me; he looked serious and conflicted.

"Did he say Ti amo?"

"Yes! That's exactly what he said"

After a few heartbeats, while I waited to know whether those words will change my life, Bruno blurts out the most beautiful words I know.

"He said he loved you."

"It means I love you?" I whisper, my voice trembling and tears shimmering in my eyes. Suddenly the air in the room became tense, making Bruno uncomfortable just as tears always did.

I kiss his cheeks without saying a word running to our bedroom. I sit on the bed for a while, tears rolling uncontrollably-happy tears.

He loves me. I say this over and over again like a mantra, happily wiping away the never-ending tears with the collar of the shirt I was wearing.

I can't believe he loves me.

I notice, often when we go out, how women look at him. How oblivious he is to the numerous come hither looks he gets, women fluttering and preening when he is around them, yet he has eyes only for me.

I eagerly want to know when he knew, that moment he realized he loved me. Does he know the specifics of that day? I wonder if I should let him know I know.

I slowly-like in a slow motion, I lie vertically on our bed, feeling like I'm on top of the world celebrating a memorable moment, but then it's marred by the fact that he doesn't want me to know.

Fortunately, that doesn't stop the warmth I feel flowing through my entire body. Suddenly I realize I found my home; Raphael is my home. I'm always afraid of my father coming to my grandmothers' and raising hell just to hurt me, but now that doesn't scare me anymore.

I get up, walking to the window, it's drizzling now, and the roses look beautiful. This time they don't make me homesick, I'm home already, but I miss gran and Gabriella. I have been so caught up in my pain I haven't even told Gabby about the miscarriage.

I make a note to call her later today.

I feel good, beautiful, appreciated, and loved, and it's a good feeling. I remembered last night.

The way he'd made love to me after we finally talked about our feelings about our baby.

"Cara," he had said, "Would you please tell me what you feel about the baby? Romano tells me you have decided to stop attending the meetings."

"Does he tell you everything?"

"About you? Yes"

I had looked at him speaking, his face grave and determined. I finally realized talking with him meant I could also find out exactly how he felt about it.

"I think we made that baby the last day we were together in Italy" a little nostalgic smile appeared on his face scooping me up and laying me on the bed. He laid beside me, his face directly opposite mine.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Are you, really?"

"Hell no! I loved it, and so did you. But I'm sorry we lost the baby."