Page 81 of Sinful Honor

The head of the family?

“I know, Mamma. But you don’t need to worry. And you don’t need to remarry. Especially not him.”

His mother sighed. “Your father would be proud of you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Gabe’s harsh chuckle threw me off. “You and I both know he wouldn’t. I’m a disgrace to the family, a traitor. If he were still alive, he would’ve probably shot me on the spot.”

His words resonated within me, making my heart race. He felt like a disgrace? Not good enough?

Despite my current situation, I couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe there was more to him than I had initially thought.

“When I first realized your father was a Mafia boss, I struggled,” his mother confessed, her voice cracking with emotion, and my breath stuck in my throat. “But love won out over all the reservations I had. I only wish…”

My fingers tightened around the railing, and my mind raced as I processed this.

My suspicions were true.

Gabe wasn’t just a kidnapper and cold-hearted killer—he was a made man, an Italian Mafia heir. And the Italian Mafia were mortal enemies of the Irish one—of my own people.

Hell.

He could never know who I was, who my father was.

What would he do if he knew? What would happen then?

“You gave us an amazing childhood, Mamma, despite everything,” Gabe reassured her, his words filled with warmth. “Now stop worrying about me. I’m a grown-ass man. I can handle my shit. Tell me about that hare-brained idea of agreeing to marry Uncle Fausto.”

“Fausto knows things,” she whispered, her voice barely audible even to my straining ears. “Secrets that I’d rather die than have exposed.”

Gabe’s voice grew dark, and I could almost feel the tension radiating from him in waves. “There are things worse than death, Ma. And if Fausto ever gets his hands on you, that’s the fate that awaits you.”

My heart raced in my chest as I realized he was not only talking about his mother. He was talking about me—about the torture I’d endured at Fausto’s hands. The sadistic pleasure he derived from whipping people, from inflicting pain.

A hell he rescued me from. A fate worse than death.

My fingers gripped the edge of the potted plant, knuckles turning white as I struggled with the horrifying memories.

Gabe’s voice softened and pulled me back to the present. “I’m back, and whatever secrets he knows, as long as we protect each other—as long as we don’t let him drive a wedge between us, he can’t touch us.”

At that moment, I understood that Gabe wasn’t only protecting his family but also me.

As their conversation continued, I leaned against the railing, thoughts churning through my mind.

Gabe was a man of contradictions—fierce and gentle, cold and tender. And as much as I hated to admit it, I found myself drawn to him in a way I’d never experienced before.

But could I really trust him?

My heart ached with the truth.

Protecting me from his sadistic uncle was one thing. But having the daughter of the head of the Irish Mafia in the US in his captivity and being able to use her as a bargaining chip, another thing entirely.

There might be far more to Gabriele Falcone than met the eye. Despite his tough exterior, he had a heart of gold when it came to those he loved.

I found myself softening toward Gabe—a softening I couldn’t afford.

Despite the strange pull I felt toward him, I needed to leave, needed to escape.

Before it was too late.

---