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

Chapter 67

"Your hair is luxuriously beautiful" He whispered, kissing my temple.

"They didn't think so"

"The hell with them, I love it"

"Thank you" it felt good to hear it and to know there was at least another person in the world who would protect me with everything he had or die trying.

"He kept the nail on his pinkie long so every time he slapped me I would get not only a print of his hand on my face but also a deep ugly scratch that run through half of my face." I let out a humourless laugh, trying hard not to cry. I felt like I had cried enough over my father to last me a lifetime.

Why should I keep doing it even after all these years?

"The few times he did not beat me was when he came home so drunk he couldn't stand straight"

The palms of my hands felt clammy and my stomach was in knots hearing Raphael cursing both in English and Italian. I got the sense that my father was lucky he was far enough from Raphael to get is hands around his weak ass neck.

"I would dream of my mother coming for me even though he kept throwing the fact that she never wanted me to my face. I really thought he was lying, and I would dream day after day, imagine her coming for me like an avenging angel because that is what mothers do, protect their children. But she never did and in time I stopped dreaming."

"I'm sorry" his voice felt muffled in my hair, arms tightly around me. He sounded like it was his fault and he probably thought so. surprisingly, when I was trying to survive, dreaming of a better life than didn't involve broken ribs all the time, Raphael was fighting his way through street ruffians and murderers to be declared the king of the underworld which was ironic to think of him fighting for me, but still feasible.

"I would have been there taking care of you"

"How could you, you were just a kid yourself fighting for your own life"

"I was never a kid cara" He said vehemently.

Somehow, I knew Raphael would have taken better care of me when he was sixteen than my father ever did on his best days which were rare. He would have made sure I was safe, secure and fed even though he had to steal which he obviously did at that age.

"You would probably think I was a nuisance and annoying at ten"

"I think you were adorable at any age"

I burst out laughing loudly, basking in this man's adoration.

He smiled. I felt it on my cheek, in the way his heart changed its rhythm or the way he palmed my bottom.

"What would you have done with a ten-year-old?"

"I would have thought of something, made sure you went to school and kept away from trouble"

"But from everything you've told me, you were the epitome of trouble and the company you kept wouldn't have been much of a recommendation either" I said catching a glint of amusement in his dark orbs. "What's so amusing about that?"

"I was just imagining you as a ten-year-old, cute and running around the house in your shorts, laughing and chasing fireflies."

"I don't remember laughing or chasing fireflies" I stated sadly.

"Well, if you were with me, you sure as hell would have had a better childhood than what you had. I would have made sure of it"

"Thank you. But I was raised by a sadistic man who derived pleasure from causing me pain instead"

Sitting on Raphael's lap in silence after a while was comforting and safe. Talking about my parents still felt like I had something bitter in my mouth but it was tolerable talking about it in the safety of the arms of the man I loved.