Broken by Sin: A Dark Mafia Romance

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.”