When A Mafia Heir Broke My Heart

y-second birthday and the supposed start of our life together, slipped from my fingers

ide the private room, the sound swallowed by the lo

pte

phin

he Shadow" Mancini s

as the daughter of his father's most trusted Capo, L

A piece of scaffolding, heavy and lethal, broke loose above me. Da

iron on my arm, just as the metal

a silver coin into my trembling hands. It was stamped with the Mancini crest. A silent, posse

bored than anything else, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "When you're twenty-two and done with school," he'd said, his vo

's co

bind our families. I built my entire life around it. I went to Pratt Institute in New

t logo for his new legitimate front, a sleek, modern emblem that was both beautiful and intim

de his private room

oice was laced with irritation. "Th

n, Don?" Vito, his

gement. A baby. That should be enough to scare the little Moretti gi

abella Rossi. An outsider, a social climber. "D

. The logo, my offering, lay forgotten at my feet. Th

ching someone else. I pushed through the heavy doors of the club and out into the New

e. Then my brother, Leo. I silenc

anted to cut me out. So I would