Page 23 of Broken Innocence
“Yes, we are.”
I nibble my bottom lip and Luca’s gaze drops. Desire swells in the midnight centers. “I don’t want Fabian there. I don’t want to see him.”Ever, after what he orchestrated.But I’m not sure how realistic that is when Luca’s timeline for destroying his half-brother and Don D’Amora is unknown.
“Don’t worry. He won’t be in attendance. I talked Enzo into sending him on an errand after explaining how awkward his presence might be since there’s been a switch in grooms.”
“Oh.” That was surprisingly considerate. But hasn’t Luca been that way during my entire stay at Blackchapel? The opposingsides of him are a mystery—the stalker, the caretaker, the merciless killer intent on revenge.
And I’ll have to learn how to live with all of them as his wife.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LUCA
“Sounds like your future mother-in-law is pissed.” Mathias straightens my tie before patting my shoulder and stepping away. We’re in a small room down the hall from the church altar, and Father Fado must have placed Eden’s family right next door because her mom’s shrill voice carries through the vents.
Mr. Marino’s low murmur is harder to understand, but it’s obvious he’s trying to calm his wife.
Enzo must have shared the news with them. Instead of their daughter marrying the next D’Amora don, her husband-to-be is an illegitimate bastard.
“She’ll get over it,” I say, adjusting my cufflinks with the aid of the floor-length mirror attached to the wall.
“The mother is the least of his worries.” Jonah takes a sip of the bourbon provided from a bar cart in the corner. I haven’t attended many weddings, but I wonder if it’s typical for a church to provide grooms and their entourage with liquid courage before exchanging vows. “His bride tried to escape last night.”
Seated next to Jonah in a leather chair, Rafe’s brows hit his hairline. “No shit? How far did she get?”
Mathias offers a tumbler of amber alcohol, and I nod in gratitude, glancing between the men who’ve become brothers to me. We’re all here: Mathias, Jonah, Rafael, Hugo, andDmitri. The only one missing is Aleksei. He’s been undercover in prison for months, slowly working his way up the chain of command in Sergei Petrov—he and Dmitri’s father’s—illegal arms organization.
Unlike the rest of us, Aleksei’s birth was kept a secret from Sergei. He’s the only Blackchapel Bastard with that advantage. With the ability to secretly infiltrate his father’s world.
“Barely five feet from the manor’s perimeter. I figured she’d try to run, so I was waiting.”
“Right… Forgot you’re an expert at stalking the poor woman.” Everyone chuckles at Hugo’s wry observation, until a knock on the door interrupts the moment of levity.
I check my watch. There’s still twenty minutes before the ceremony officially begins. Does the priest want to go over the schedule again?
“Beaumont.” My shoulders stiffen at the familiar voice once Mathias opens the door. “I’d like to speak to my son on his big day.”
Mathias looks back at me with a silent question in his eyes. Let Enzo inside or bar his entry? Sighing, I gesture for him to let my dad in the room as the rest of the guys file out through a side door. Once we’re alone, I lean casually against the back of a leather chair and wait for Enzo to speak.
“Your mother would have loved this. Her baby boy’s wedding day.”
“Don’t mentionMamma,” I warn, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
Enzo raises his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, but I loved her, too, you know. That’s why I kept these.” He reaches into his jacket pocket, and I tense, for a moment wondering if this entire thing is a setup for him to shoot me dead in St. Michael’s Parish. But instead of a gun, he removes a rectangular box and sets it on the coffee table between us.
“Go ahead. Open it.” Enzo waits for me to cautiously grab the box and pop the top open. Inside are gold cufflinks with lion insignias. “Those belonged to your grandfather on your mother’s side. They’ve been passed down in her family for generations, and she wanted you to have them for a momentous occasion. Your wedding day seems appropriate.”
Tracing one of the tiny designs, a rush of emotion clogs my lungs. “You’ve kept these all this time?”
Enzo shrugs. “Like I said, I loved your mother.” His face softens, and it’s like the past few decades never happened. No abandonment at the manor. No murder lessons from Conrad. No drive for revenge against the man standing before me.
We’re Luca andPapàagain.
He’s the hero I idolized.
A man I loved.
“Thank you,” I mutter then hurry from the room without a backward glance, suffocating from memories I haven’t thought about in years.
