Page 1 of Broken Innocence
PROLOGUE
LUCA D’AMORA
TEN YEARS OLD
“Papà, I don’t want to stay here,” I say for the fifth time. My father, Enzo D’Amora, ignores me and uses the hefty door handle to announce our arrival at the manor. Green ivy climbs the brick walls of the massive structure, and I’m reminded ofMamma’sfavorite book,The Secret Garden. I wonder if there is one hiding around here, too.
“Non hai scelta[1]. With yourmammagone, this is the best place for you.” Enzo has explained this multiple times, but I still don’t understand why I must lose myPapàandmammawithin the same week.
“I’m your son. I should live with you.” My arms cross over my chest as I glare stubbornly at the huge oak door that swings open.
A man and a boy my age stand in the entry to greet us.
“Enzo,” the man clips, offering his hand to my father.
“Conrad.” They nod in greeting beforePapàtells me to follow the boy. “Hugo will show you to your new room. Remember to behave.”
“Listen to your father,” Conrad adds with a thread of warning. “Blackchapel Manor is your home now. Don’t disrespect it… or me. Hugo!”
The boy hurriedly grabs my arm and tugs me toward the massive staircase that climbs higher into the mysterious manor. He mutters under his breath, “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Mathias and Jonah.”
There are more boys?
Suddenly, this feels more like an orphanage for the unwanted than a safe haven whilePapàfigures out what to do with me. I know he loves me. He andMammasaid so. But he’s also part of the Italian mafia and is married to the don’s daughter. He can’t have a bastard son living with his wife and newborn son—my half-brother.
That’s what I overheard him tellMammathe day before she succumbed to her illness.
So, I need to live at Blackchapel Manor with his old friend Conrad Steele until he can figure out other arrangements.
But I’m starting to wonder ifPapàwill come back for me at all…
CHAPTER ONE
EDEN MARINO
PRESENT DAY
My parents warned me about living alone as a single woman. It’s dangerous and tough andnot doneby good Italian daughters. Girls belong at home under the protection of their fathers until that responsibility transfers to their husbands through marriage—an old-fashioned belief for a family built on traditions.
But to paraphrase Charlotte Lucas fromPride & Prejudice, I’m twenty-eight-years-old with no romantic prospects, which means I could be living with my parents forever.
A scary and wholly unwelcome thought.
That’s how I finally gathered enough courage to visit apartment complexes three weeks ago before choosing one, signing the lease, and announcing my plans to move a week later. Thankful that my daycare job covers rent and bills, rather than needing to rely on my dad’s support.
Raised in a conservative Italian family that also happens to be part ofThe Family, I was pleasantly surprised when my father agreed to let me leave my childhood home with minimal fuss. If I have to reassure him on every phone call and at every Sunday dinner that I’m safe, happy, and firm in my decision, it’s a small price to pay for independence.
“Remember, you can come home whenever you want to,” Dad reminds me for the umpteenth time.
“You’ll be the first to know if I change my mind.”
Though the likelihood of that happening is nonexistent. My dad is a low-level member of the Italian mafia, so while we’ve always been on the edges of the organization, it’s never been completely forgotten how tenuous our position is. One wrong move on Dad’s part, and Don D’Amora could wipe us out.
But in my apartment, it’s easy to pretend I’m not part of that life anymore.
Why would a mafia don care about a low-ranking soldier’s daughter? Especially one who isn’t as glamorous as Alessia Gallo or as influential as Bianca Morelli?
Most of the time,The Familyforgets my name. Weddings. Funerals. Birthday parties. No one ever remembers Danny Marino’s chubby, quiet daughter.
