Page 8 of Broken Innocence
The roast and potatoes I scarfed down meld into a lead pit in my stomach. There’s only one reason why an Italian don would talk to a man about his daughter. A trembling hand falls to my belly to curb the nausea threatening to rise.
“Fabian met with his father to relay his interest in you,” Dad continues. “As you may know, Fabian is a bit of a womanizer. The don’s had his hands full trying to keep the boy on the right path. He’s hopeful with this sudden urge to settle down, Fabian might be making a change. Obviously, you’re not who Don D’Amora would have originally chosen to marry his son, since our family doesn’t come with powerful connections, but the don is willing to overlook that flaw as long as his son is happy.”
Did I sayThe Familywould forget me?
Never think of me again now that I don’t live at home?
Because I was dead wrong.
Somehow, I landed on Fabian D’Amora’s radar.Me. A woman with no political advantages. A woman he’s never spoken to. I’m not even sure how he knew my name to bring it up in a marriage discussion with his father.
“When your father told me, I almost fainted from joy!” No surprise Mom approves of this union.
Me, less so.
I might actually throw up on her favorite Aubusson rug.
“Something isn’t right. Why would Fabian want me? We bring nothing to the D’Amoras.” I sip at my glass of water, praying hydrating might help cool the sauna the room has turned into. Unfortunately, the liquid sloshes around my belly, making me feel worse.
“We’re a loyal Italian family who’s never broken the don’s trust. For decades, the Marino name has stood for loyalty and devotion—difficult qualities to find in our volatile world,” she says, glancing at Dad over their empty plates. “Stop questioning our good fortune and accept your elevated station. You’ll be married to the next don!”
From the edges ofThe Familyto the very center.
How thehelldid this happen?
CHAPTER SIX
LUCA
My girl needs me.
Earlier, I caught her crying for the second day in a row as she sat outside on the screened-in patio with her arms curled around her knees and a blanket covering her from head to toe. She wiped her cheeks multiple times while tears fell, and it took all of my strength to resist scaling the building and pulling Eden into my arms.
I’d care for her, give her whatever she needs before finding whator whomade her cry and dealing with the problem.
Because no one hurts what’s mine.
But I forced myself to wait.
Restrained the primal need to shield her from pain because nothing has changed on my end. We’re still in the midst of figuring out how to destroy my father and by extension, part of The Syndicate.
That doesn't mean I'm above sneaking a little closer to my Butterfly to make sure she's okay.
The midnight hour casts long shadows as I climb the post leading to her third-story patio. My pocket knife cuts through the mesh screen, and I make a note to fix it later before climbing in and walking to the door leading to her living room. The knob turns easily in my palm.
That won’t happen again.
I vow that a lot more security will be added, and this door will remain locked. No one else will be able to get to my Butterfly.
Carpet hushes my footsteps as I step inside her apartment for the second time. It smells like she does: sweet with notes of earthy cinnamon.
Wide eyes stare at me as I pause in front of Beanie. The feline sits stock still like a stone statue rather than a living, breathing being. Lowering to my haunches, I remove the tiny bag of cat treats from my back pocket and shake the contents. Immediately, the furry beast trots closer, purring up a storm while I offer brown bits of kibble.
Bribery works on humans and animals alike it seems.
Once the treats are gone, I head down the hallway to the open bedroom door, inhaling deeply of Eden’s addicting scent before stopping beside her bed. Two fans blow on either side of the mattress, causing her blonde waves to flutter in the wind, and the constant roar masks anything but the loudest of sounds.
Not that I make any.
