Page 11 of Broken Innocence
Never underestimate a mother eager to marry off her daughter.
Somehow, she landed an appointment with one of Boston’s exclusive wedding dress designers, requiring me to drive straight here from work for this impromptu measurements session. Which is exactly what I wanted to do after a day of dealing with dozens of active children.
A dress fitting seems premature given I still haven’t officially met my husband-to-be, but Mom and Dad were adamant that the don wants a quick wedding. No waiting and planning an elaborate ceremony over the course of a year. No engagement party. No bridal shower.
I know this marriage is a business transaction rather than a love match, but skipping all the usual wedding prep and events pinches a nerve. I’ve never been the center of attention. I’ve always been hidden in the background. Unseen. Unnoticed.
But a woman’s wedding?
That’s supposed to be her moment to shine, yet I’m once again relegated to a set piece being directed and moved by Don D’Amora and my parents. None of this is for me.
“Is this really necessary? Fabian isn’t known for his commitments. He’ll probably change his mind about marrying me soon.” I cross my fingers, though it’s a vain hope.
Marriage contracts are a respected tradition in Italian mob families. You can’t just break an engagement. But perhaps a don’s son has a little more leeway? He definitely has more power.
I’ve got no say at all in my future unless I want to run away from everything I’ve ever known.
The lack of control I have over who I marry is still on my mind hours later as I walk back to my apartment after checking my mail. Distracted, it takes a couple of minutes to register the eerie quiet surrounding me instead of car doors shutting or neighbors walking their dogs.
Quickening my step, I shelf my worries about becoming Fabian’s wife and focus on getting home safely. Every scary story my parents told to dissuade me from leaving my childhood home flashes to life as I hurry home from the resident mailboxes.
The walk isn’t long, and the sidewalk is well-lit, but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. This isn't the first time I've felt the sensation, but itisthe first time it's freaking me out so much.
My keys jingle as I arrange them between my knuckles. I’ve made this journey a dozen times and never felt concerned for my safety. This isn’t a neighborhood known for trouble, but something feels off tonight.
You’re probably on edge because of the impending nuptials to a complete stranger.
Marrying Fabian D’Amora will put me in the thick of danger, a place I never wanted to be.
Could rival gangs already be planning to use me against him and his father? AgainstThe Family?
I’m about to scold myself for how ridiculous that sounds when there’s a rustling of leaves to my right. Probably a squirrel, but my pace increases anyway. The entry to my apartment is close, a mere ten feet away, when two bulky arms wrap around my chest and haul me backward.
Mail flutters in the air. My keys clatter to the sidewalk. A yelp of fear bursts from me before my attacker stuffs a ball of cloth inmy mouth. The metallic flavor stings my tongue as a second man steps forward and lands a backhand to my cheek.
“This is a mafia princess?” The man behind me scoffs.
“More like her fat servant,” his accomplice jokes with a swift punch to my stomach. I groan at the impact. My chin dips low before Thug #2 wrenches my head back by yanking my hair. “Uh-uh, Miss Marino. A couple more bruises, then we’ll be done. Courtesy of Fabian’s half-brother.”
Half-brother?
There have been whispers of Enzo’s past indiscretions with a mistress leading to a bastard child, but it wasn’t until recently that the rumors were confirmed when the man was invited to Enzo’s birthday celebration.
Despite attending the party with my parents, I never met him. I was too busy reading on my phone at an empty table by the exit.
“He thinks he can fuck Fabian over without consequences. Like he’s the next in line to become don. Luca needs to be taught a lesson, and unfortunately, you’re it.”
Luca.The image of my strong and handsome maintenance man ripples into memory. I could use a strong protector right about now.
Because if I’m understanding correctly, my fiancé is the one who arranged for this attack. Because of an illegitimate half-brother.
Somehow, I’ve fallen into the middle of their sibling rivalry.
“P… Please…” The garbled plea gets lost in the rough cloth filling my swollen cheeks.
Not that it matters.
Both men are focused on their task. They’re not even concerned about being caught by my neighbors based on our location between two vehicles. Sure, we’re in the shadows, but anyone could walk by.
