Page 37 of Broken Innocence
“What do you mean? They’ll be happy to see their daughter and tolerant of their new son-in-law. That’s basic family dynamics, I believe, even for people who aren’t part of the Boston mafia.”
“Haha, very funny.” I roll my eyes at his obvious amusement.
House staff welcome us into the spacious foyer then guide Luca and I into a sitting room reeking of wealth with its crystal chandelier and golden-flecked wallpaper. Leather sofas face each other in front of a massive fireplace where a painted portrait of Enzo, his wife, and a younger Fabian presides.
“Luca! Eden! The guests of honor have arrived.” Don D’Amora barges forward with a wide grin and open arms as if we’re beloved family instead of pawns in his political game.
Or is it Luca’s game?
Mom and Dad stand from their stiff positions on one of the sofas and greet us with strained smiles. “How was Italy, dear?” my mom asks after a perfunctory hug.
“Beautiful. Warm.” Turning to Enzo, I tilt my head downward in deference. “Thank you for gifting us your villa.”
“Of course. That’s what family is for. Speaking of… Fabian! Come say hello to your brother and his bride.”
Luca’s grip on my hand tightens before he sweeps a thumb over mine in a small gesture of comfort.
Fabian saunters closer and studies our held hands with a smirk. “Ah, the lovebirds. Tell me,brother, how is it fucking my ex-fiancée?”
Mom chokes on a gasp, the only sound in the aftermath of the bomb Fabian just dropped on our friendly family dinner. Silence reigns for another moment while my grip on Luca’s hand tightens until my fingers start tingling from blood loss.
A growl emanates from his chest, like a beast about to pounce on his prey, but I’m not letting the evening devolve into bloodshed.
Enzo smacks his youngest son’s head with a harsh blow. “Show some respect to your brother and his wife, or I’ll have Ricci teach you how to behave.” The reference to the D’Amora enforcer has my eyebrows winging skyward. It’s no secret thatwhenever Enzo needs somebody taken care of—intimidated, injured,or worse—he calls Benito Ricci.
“Sorry, Father,” Fabian murmurs under his breath, a death glare burning in his narrowed gaze. The apology is half-assed and an obvious lie, but it’s enough to allow my mother to sweep forward and direct us to the dining room, expertly ignoring the tension among the D’Amoras.
You’re a D’Amora, too.
The realization rattles my foundation just like it did the first time I learned of my impending nuptials. From the edges of the mafia straight to the red-hot center of danger and mistrust.
“Are you okay? We can leave if you want to,” Luca whispers in my ear.
I shake my head and force a wobbly smile. “I’m fine. We expected trouble tonight, and Fabian didn’t disappoint. Let him air his ire with an audience. It’s safer to let your father deal with him than you taking matters into your own hands.”
Luca grunts in disagreement but doesn’t press the issue. I pray he keeps his composure the rest of the evening, too.
Only a few more hours to go.
We can make it.
***
Barely.
We barely made it through the entire evening without incident. It helped that Fabian left in the middle of the meal, citing some work call. Enzo hadn't looked pleased.
Things got awkward one more time when Enzo brought up Blackthorn, and my parents realized I was a pawn in the groom switch. But otherwise, my mom kept the conversation going with breezy updates about various families.
“A reward for your strength tonight at dinner.” Luca presents a black velvet box, and my brows wing up in confusion as I shakeoff the memory of the evening. We just got back home, and I'm dying to strip and change into comfier clothes.
Another gift from Luca is unexpected.
“We’re already married…” I say, cautiously accepting the box.
Luca grins. “It’s not a ring, Butterfly. Just open it.”
I flip the case open to find two gold figure-eight metal pieces with butterflies hanging from the bottoms. “Um, what are they?” They’re missing studs to delineate them as earrings. Maybe they’re charms? But where’s the chain necklace or bracelet to accompany them?
