Broken by Sin: A Dark Mafia Romance Read online

  She lived the idyllic childhood I was denied.

  She’s pampered and loved and protected.

  While I’ve had to reshape myself into a hardened wolf with a taste for human throats just to survive.

  I pause near the door. Her sunglasses are back on and her arms are above her head, but I feel her staring back. I don’t bother trying to hide it. I let my gaze linger on her chest and hips. I want her to see me looking.

  I’m going to hurt her. I don’t know how—but I’m going to make her miserable.

  Just like her family ruined me.

  Chapter 3

  Karah

  The pins clatter down and several large, muscled men covered in tattoos cheer.

  The bowling alley smells like popcorn and sweat. I sit near the bar and sip a glass of water as I scan the crowd.

  There are a lot of people here tonight, which makes me happy—buying and running a bowling alley was Casso’s idea despite my father speaking out against it. Papa claimed nobody bowls anymore.

  Seems like Casso was right. The alley’s been busy ever since they renovated the interior and got a liquor license. Turns out, people like to drink and throw heavy balls at pins.

  And it helps that bowling alleys go through a lot of cash, since the Bruno Famiglia has a lot of excess lying around waiting to be washed through their various businesses.

  “Who are you staring at, Kar?”

  I glance over and Gavino grins at me. He sips a whiskey and swirls it in his glass, trying hard to seem grown-up and sophisticated even though he’s the youngest boy in the Bruno family. He’s big and broad like all my brothers, with light eyes and dark hair and a square jawline he got from Papa.

  “Nobody. Mind your own business.” He doesn’t know about my deal with Papa, which is surprising.

  I figured Nico would have spread that bit of information far and wide through the Famiglia and every eligible guy would be breathing down my neck—but he kept it to himself apparently.

  God, stupid Nico. Thinking about him pisses me off. Being around him pisses me off. It’s like that man was born to drive me insane.

  He knows exactly what to say and how to say it to maximize my anger, and I don’t know what I hate about him more—the way he looks at me like a feral animal waiting to rip my clothes off, or the way he speaks to me like I’m a piece of trash.

  But he kept my secret, which is a nice surprise.

  I don’t even know why I told him—probably to piss him off a little bit. For whatever reason, he gets all mad when good things happen to me, so I like to lord it over him a little bit.

  Not like it matters. Nico’s one of the most popular and powerful lieutenants in the Famiglia, and he’ll be full Capo with his own crew soon enough. He’s my oldest brother’s best friend, which means he’s set for life so long as he doesn’t screw that up. Nico doesn’t need my approval, and he certainly shouldn’t give a shit who I marry.

  And yet that last lingering look he gave me yesterday is still stuck in my mind.

  Pure loathing and pure desire.

  I can’t seem to untangle the two feelings when it comes to that man.

  “Don’t be so testy, little sister,” Gavino says, taking another sip. “I know Papa’s been talking about marrying you off to a Russian. It’ll be okay though. We’ll keep in touch.”

  I roll my eyes. “What a sacrifice, thanks so much.”

  “Anything for my little sister.”

  A man stands and walks to the lane. He’s tall and muscular like the others, but there’s a fascinating strut to the way he moves like he knows every eye is on him and he loves the attention. His hair’s longer and pushed back, and his suit makes him look like he’s about to glide out onto a red carpet. An expensive watch catches the light and glitters on his wrist, but there are no tattoos marring his otherwise perfectly tanned flesh. His full lips quirk and he laughs at something someone says as he lifts a ball up to his eyes and goes to bowl.

  “You’re staring, sister.” Gavino nudges me. “Go over and talk to them.”

  “Papa wouldn’t like it. You know he wants me to stay away from the men.”

  “Ah, Papa’s not here. Besides, everyone likes Rinaldo. Even I like that charming bastard.”

  I smile to myself. He’s not wrong—everyone does love Rinaldo. His bowling ball swoops down the lane and bashes into the pins, knocking all but two over. He laughs and the guys hoot and holler, but there’s a sharp edge to the smirk he gives them, like yes, this is a game, but he’s playing to win.

  Like he’s always playing to win.

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should go over and say hello.”

  “There you go. Just be careful. Don’t want to sully yourself before your future husband puts a ring on your finger. I doubt the Russians would be happy about that.”

  “It’s incredibly weird to say something like that to your sister.”

  He bursts out laughing. “I’m just fucking with you, Kar. Relax.”

  “Whatever. Please never mention my sex life again.” Or lack thereof.

  “Ah, come on, I’m just teasing. Everyone knows Papa will cut the throat of anyone stupid enough to put his hands on you.”

  I give him a sharp look. I’m about as virginal as a girl can possibly get, though not because I don’t want sex or because I’m afraid of it or something, but because my overbearing Papa and brothers make sure no man gets too close to do anything.

  “That attitude has been really great for my social life.”

  “That’s the curse of the mafia princess, I guess. You can have whatever you want, so long as Papa approves.”

  I roll my eyes. “Are you done yet?”

  “Done and done.” He sips the whiskey. “Go on, go talk to them. I won’t tell. Live a little while you have the chance.”

  I hesitate, crossing and uncrossing my legs. Gavino’s right—I am insanely sheltered. The men in the Famiglia treat me like a disease and go out of their way to avoid me—that, or they’re overbearingly polite.

  Everyone except for Nico.

  That asshole goes out of his way to make my life a living hell and he somehow gets away with it.

  I suppose it’s because I haven’t told Papa all the horrible shit Nico says. If I did, Nico wouldn’t come around anymore, and I’m not sure I could live with his murder on my conscience.

  So I take his teasing and let him live to see another day.

  But now I have a reason to talk to the soldiers. Especially Rinaldo. He’s tall and handsome in a clean-cut way, so different from all the other mafia guys around me. He’s around my age and popular in the Famiglia, and I’ve heard my brothers say he’s going to be the next Nico, at least in terms of power and ruthlessness.

  Rinaldo is the sort of man Papa would approve of, and he’s not bad to look at.

  I suck in a deep breath and hop off my stool.

  Gavino laughs. “You’re really doing this?”

  “I’m really doing it.”

  “Good luck. Fifty bucks say they refuse to even look at you.”

  “You’re on.” I grin at him and stride of, heading toward the lane filled with young, dangerous mafia men.

  I keep my chin held high even though a sharp pang of nervous energy pulses down my skin.

  What am I even going to say?

  Hey, Rinaldo, you’re cute and popular, want to marry me? It’ll be a win-win for both of us! That seems a little pushy. Maybe, Hey, Rinaldo, let’s make grandbabies for my papa! Yep, that’s worse.

  I’m still mulling over my opening line when a shadow appears at my hip. “Where are you headed to, princess?”

  Nico’s voice. I grimace and stop walking as he looms in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s the opposite of Rinaldo—he’s covered in scars and ink, and his charisma seems to suck the energy from a room. He’s handsome, but he’s like a glacier, massive and gorgeous and freezing cold.

  Rinaldo’s like a volcano: all heat and explosions.

  “I thought I’d start putting out feelers. You know, searching for the future Mr. Right.”

  He smiles tightly. “You won’t find him here.”

  “Why not?” I gaze over at the lane. Rinaldo bowls his second ball and knocks over the pins for a spare. He flexes and laughs and glances over in my direction—and I swear he winks at me.

  I feel a weird chill run down my spine and I’m not sure if it’s excitement or fear. Why would I be afraid of him though?

  “Some of those men are dangerous, princess.”

  “They’re in the Famiglia. They’re not dangerous to me.”

  He waves that off. “You’re not interested in any of those children.”

  “They’re all my age.”

  “And you’re a child.”

  “Nico, you’re only a few years older than me. Don’t act like you’re some old man.”

  “I’m more experienced than all of them combined. But that’s not the point. You’re looking for a husband, not for one disappointing fuck, and that’s all you’ll find with them.”

  “Asshole. Get out of my way.” I go to walk past him, but he snatches my wrist and holds it.

  A tense tingling rolls down my arm. All the years we’ve known each other and he rarely ever actually touched me before. I think back to him grabbing my finger, and even that minor brush of our skin was a revelation. His torture tends to be psychological—constant bickering and teasing and joking. But never physical. It’s like he’ll say anything to piss me off, but he’s terrified to let our bodies touch. As if in touching, it would break down some invisible barrier, and all hell would break loose.

  His fingers are hard on my wrist and his skin is callused and rough.

  “Let me go,” I say through my teeth. “Gavino’s watching.
You want him to report this to Papa?”

  “Let him.” Nico’s face doesn’t change. “Go back to your seat, princess.”

  “I want to talk to Rinaldo.” I tilt my chin up toward him. “I have a husband to find, remember?”

  Something twists in his expression. It’s pained, but also angry. Why does he give a shit who I choose to marry? He’s done nothing but treat me like garbage for years and years, and now suddenly he cares who I’m talking to?

  I yank my wrist away and he releases me. I glare and rub the skin, and it feels like someone left bubbling baking soda behind tickling along the small hairs of my hand. I don’t understand why I react this way to that asshole, and I don’t want to spend the time analyzing it.

  “I’m here for Rinaldo,” he says, looking over at the lane. “We’ve got a job to do, so you might as well forget about talking to him tonight.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, Karah, I’m not.” His gaze is flat again. Whatever emotions he felt are long gone now. “Go sit down. I’m sure Gavino will be happy to offer his advice on marriage if you ask.”

  “What is the matter with you? You’re always so pissed off at me. What did I ever do?”

  His jaw works and he shakes his head. “Nothing at all, princess.” He turns to walk away.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone about my deal? Nobody knows except you and Papa. I figured you’d use it against me.”

  He hesitates, back still turned, and only shrugs. “Guess I figured it wasn’t my business.” He heads off without a word.

  I watch him go, frustrated and annoyed. He approaches Rinaldo and they talk briefly before the two men leave together. The rest of the guys seem sullen after that, like they’re disappointed Nico didn’t choose any of them.

  I return to my seat with Gavino. He raises his eyebrows at me.

  “Saw you talking to Nico. Seemed intense. What’d he want?”

  “Nothing,” I say, not looking at him. “You know Nico. He delights in being a piece of shit.”

  “I think he’s funny.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Gavino laughs and nudges me. “Let’s go bowl. Maybe that’ll cheer you up, since Nico stole away your little crush.”

  “I don’t have a crush on Rinaldo,” I say, distracted and not quite listening. I keep thinking about the look on Nico’s face and the feeling of his fingers on my skin.

  Ecstasy and pain. Hatred and lust. His touch was like a brand, like he marked me for his own.

  But that can’t be right. Nico despises me and always has.

  Yet he looks at me like he wants to pin me against the floor and have his way with my body.

  I don’t understand it, and I hate how hard his gaze makes my pulse pound in my ears.

  “Whatever. Come on.” Gavino hops up and walks off toward an open lane.

  I follow Gavino and rub my wrist as I go.

  I still need to find a husband, or I’m going to get shipped off to Dallas. I can’t let Nico distract me—I’m running out of time, and if I don’t make a move soon, I’ll be screwed.

  Chapter 4

  Nico

  “I was on track to bowl the best game of my life before you pulled me out of there,” Rinaldo says as he stares out the passenger side window of my black Range Rover. “This better be good.”

  “We’ve got a job.” I don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to know the details. Rinaldo’s clever and strong and popular in the Famiglia, but he’s still a low-ranking soldier.

  I remember what it was like to be his age and knee-deep in mafia shit. I was like him back then, ruthless and reckless and violent as hell. I’m still all those things, except now I’m smart enough to keep myself under control.

  Rinaldo’s a wild animal.

  He hasn’t figured out how to rein himself in yet.

  And Karah thinks he’d be a good husband. The idea would be laughable if it weren’t so fucking dangerous.

  I park outside of a gas station with a couple beat-up trucks in the lot. One old guy fills his Old Man Tan Cadillac and barely looks up when I step out of the Rover. Rinaldo follows and we approach the little convenience store together.

  “Let me do the talking,” I say, glancing at Rinaldo. “You keep your mouth shut and watch my back.”

  He grins at me, head cocked. “Why are you always such a dick, Nico? You need more pussy, man. Nothing better for stress than a nice willing cunt.”

  “Just do your job.”

  He shrugs and I shove in through the door. The store’s cramped and small with old metal racks covered in chips and candy bars and magazines three months out of date. The cooler in the back is stocked with beer and not much else, and signs for cigarettes that look at least twenty years old hang on the walls. My shoes stick to the linoleum.

  “Fuck off,” I say to the young guy paying for a six-pack at the counter. He takes one look at me and Rinaldo, shoves some cash onto the counter, and gets the hell out of there without looking back.

  The cashier stares at me and starts to tremble. He’s middle-aged, balding at the top, wearing a white button-down with yellow pit stains and ratty old jeans.

  “Ah, fuck, Nico,” he says, hands held in the air. “I didn’t expect you until next week.”

  “Then you lost track of time.” I approach the counter. Rinaldo walks through the store, knocking things onto the floor. He stomps on a bag of chips and it audibly pops and crunches, and the cashier jumps like a gun went off.

  “I got your money. I really do, I just—I don’t got it on me, right?”

  “We take Venmo.” I smile at him. We don’t actually take Venmo. “So let’s get this covered.”

  “Uh, look, man, Nico—”

  I lean across the counter and stare into his eyes. “You owe Don Bruno ten thousand dollars. Do you understand that, Afredo? Do you know how many collections I go on these days?”

  He shakes his head. “No, man, I don’t know.”

  “None. I don’t do this anymore. But you’re such an outstanding pain in my Don’s ass that he sent me here to deal with you personally. So, Afredo. I’ll ask you one more time. When can you pay?”

  “Give me three days,” he says, his face ashen pale.

  Rinaldo walks around the side of the counter to the gap in the back. “I don’t know, Nico. You trust this guy? He seems like a fucking slob to me.”

  I glare at him. “Let me handle this.”

  “I dunno. Seems like you’re not doing much.” Rinaldo slips behind the counter. Afredo backs away, his hands shaking wildly. “Seems like this guy needs to be reminded of who we are.”

  “Rinaldo,” I say angrily.

  But Rinaldo’s not listening. He walks to Afredo, smiling the whole time, and punches the guy in the gut. Afredo doubles over, groaning, and Rinaldo slams a knee into his face. Bone cracks and blood spurts onto the grimy floor as Afredo collapses back into a stack of gum packs and ChapStick tubes.

  “There you go,” Rinaldo says, wiping his hands together. “Now you’re reminded.”

  “Enough,” I say over Afredo’s sobbing.

  Afredo spits blood on the floor and groans. “Three days, please. I can get it in three days.”

  Rinaldo reaches down fast and grabs Afredo’s hand. He grins gleefully as he rips Afredo’s index finger back and breaks it with one smooth motion. The finger bones crack and Afredo screams in pain as Rinaldo laughs like he’s pulling the wings off a beetle. He grabs Afredo’s ring finger, and he’s about to crunch that one but I speak up.

  “Rinaldo, walk away.” I stare at the young solider as rage flows through me. I ordered him to back down but he didn’t listen and now he’s torturing Afredo for fun. The little shit thinks he can stroll through this world doing as he pleases, but that’s not how things work in the Famiglia.

  “Get in the fucking car,” I say with a vicious snarl on my lips.

  Rinaldo smiles at me pleasantly and it’s like he didn’t just brutally break a man’s nose and finger for no good reason. Afredo’s late on a big payment, but he’s not that late. This was only supposed to be an intimidation visit—not straight violence, not yet at least.

  I stare Rinaldo down as he walks past and heads outside. Once the door shuts behind him, I turn back to Afredo.