Forgivable Sins: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 2) Read online

  Forgivable Sins

  Bellandi Crime Syndicate #2

  Adelaide Forrest

  Copyright © 2020 Adelaide Forrest

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Adelaide Forrest

  Proofreading by: Horus Proofreading

  Printed in the United States of America

  About the Author

  Adelaide lives in her tiny house with her husband and two rambunctious kids. When she's not chasing all three of them and her shepherd/husky mix around the house, she spends all her free time writing and adding to the hoard of plots stored on her bookshelf and hard-drive.

  She always wanted to write, and did from the time she was ten and wrote her first full-length fantasy novel. The subject matter has changed over the years, but that passion for writing never went away. She has a degree in Psychology, and prior to having her kids she worked as a therapist using horses in her treatment strategy and working with adults and kids with disabilities.

  Adelaide started her journey as a published author in September 2019 with her other pen name, Kenna Bardot, where she writes reverse harem. Having achieved her passion of becoming an author, she's expanding with the launch of Adelaide Forrest.

  Dedication

  To all the readers who made the launch of Adelaide Forrest a dream come true, and the Beta Readers who helped make it possible.

  With special thanks to Ashley and Kelly who went above and beyond to keep me sane during the editing process.

  About Forgivable Sins

  Samara

  They say love heals all wounds.

  If only I knew what love was.

  What my failed marriage taught me is that I don’t have the first clue. I made the wrong choice, and I’ll have to live with the consequences of it in silence. Because if Lino learned the truth, I’d lose him to the darkness that lurks just beneath the surface.

  I’ll do anything to keep that from happening, to keep the Lino I love in my life. But he’s the only one who makes me feel, the only one who can break through the walls I’ve built to see the secrets I keep.

  But I can’t let him in.

  Lino

  She’s my everything.

  I’ve loved her since the day I first heard her sing, since the day I told her I would marry her at ten years old. But my father’s cruelty knows no bounds, and I made the biggest sacrifice of my life to protect her.

  When her ex-husband’s gambling debt puts her at risk, I’ll do anything to keep her safe. Even if it makes her hate me.

  And I won’t stop until she’s my wife.

  Disclaimer

  Forgivable Sins is book two in the Bellandi Crime Syndicate and is a full-length standalone novel with crime syndicate members and dark and graphic content that may be offensive or triggering to some readers.

  The Bellandi Crime Syndicate Series includes several full-length standalones with HEA that can be read in any order, but would present a better reading experience following the suggested reading order.

  For questions regarding triggers, please don't hesitate to reach out to Adelaide Forrest on Facebook.

  Soundtrack

  "Damage" - Outr3ach

  "You're No Good" - Hidden Citizens

  "What It Takes" - Adelitas Way

  "Feel Something" - Adam Lambert

  "Ego" - Smash Into Pieces

  "Too Late" - Folded Dragons

  "Drown" - Martin Garrix

  "Conquer" - MAGNUS

  "Worst of You" - Maisie Peters

  "Power Over Me" - Dermot Kennedy

  "Beyond Today" - James Gillespie

  "BOOM" - X Ambassadors

  "Grace" - Lewis Capaldi

  "Coldest Water" - Walking on Cars

  "Stay" - The Score

  "Dreamin" - The Score

  "ICFTI" James Gillespie

  "Champion" - Elina

  "Power" - Isak Danielson

  "Make Believe" - The Faim

  "Hold Me Up" - Sam Tinnesz

  "Leading the Pack" - Sam Tinnesz

  "Fighter" - Jung Youth, Sam Tinnesz

  "Be Legendary" - Pop Evil

  "Silence" - No Name Faces

  "Warriors" - League of Legends

  "Conversations in the Dark" - John Legend

  "Protector" - City Wolf

  "Everything or Nothing" - Willyecho

  "The Fear" - The Score

  Prologue

  Lino

  Nineteen years ago

  Samara sat at my mother's piano, pressing the keys quickly and lightly as she sang a soft melody. I recognized it as one of the popular pop songs the girls at school listened to, but the sweetness of her voice made it seem like the song belonged to her and no one else.

  Gentle. Clear. Haunting.

  Even then, I felt everything inside me tighten as something snapped taut and vibrated through me.

  I stared at her as she faltered when she caught me watching her from my place next to her on the bench at the piano that nobody ever used.

  Not since my mother's accident years ago.

  The shy smile on her face made me beam at her, but instead of teasing her like I might have ten minutes ago, I reached forward and tucked her frizzy copper hair behind her ear so she couldn't hide the blue-grey eyes she covered with thick-rimmed black glasses.

  "Your voice is pretty," I whispered, trying to straighten my shoulders to look taller. I wasn't short for my age, but my cousin Matteo was taller than me already and girls flocked to him. He said chicks liked tall boys. Even eleven-year-old chicks, apparently.

  “Thank you,” she replied, her cheeks turning pink with the blush that so often covered her face. She smoothed her hands over her green skirt, moving to stand and put some distance between us, but I stopped that by grabbing her right hand in mine and running my thumb over the odd heart shaped birthmark on her palm.

  "One day when we're married, you'll sing to me every day," I said, watching as the smile faded from her face and her pursed mouth parted in shock.

  "When we're married?" she whispered, the blush fading in favor of her golden skin paling.

  I nodded. "I’m going to marry you."

  She huffed in laughter, but I knew Samara well enough to know I'd made her uncomfortable with my declaration. She was my best friend and had been for years already.

  I also knew she had years to face the inevitable reality that I meant every word.

  My father cleared his throat, and I turned to see him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. I deflated immediately but smiled to reassure Samara. I knew she worried about our friendship, knew she worried that my father's disapproval of her being a part of my life would have consequences for me.

  But there was nothing I wouldn’t do to have Samara in my life.

  Even face my father's wrath.

  "It's okay," I whispered. "I'm sure your mom will be done soon. I'll see you at school tomorrow." She nodded, casting a wide-eyed glance to my father before she darted off to the attic where she, her mother, and her brother, Yavin, lived. She had to pass my father to fit through the narrow doorway, and for a moment panic coursed through me that he might touch her.
r />   Hurt her to punish me.

  But she escaped unscathed. I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky.

  "I thought I told you to stop hanging out with the cleaner's kids," he snapped, and I knew Samara wasn't far enough to have avoided hearing him. It was intentional. Everything with my father was a deliberate action, all part of the greater games he played to gain control over everyone in his life.

  I'd have to talk Samara down from the edge again, because every time he pulled this stunt she didn't want to come between a father and his son. I didn't have the heart to tell her that my father's fists were already between us and there was no room for anyone else in that gap. Not when she still mourned the loss of the father she couldn't even remember, and not when she was the one who fussed over my cuts and bruises.

  "And I told you, Yavin and Samara are my friends." I stood from the bench, closing the keylid gently and reverently. All my strongest memories of my mother were at that piano, and I knew one day, I'd have the same kinds of memories with Samara.

  "You told her you would marry her. Let me be very, very clear, Angelino. That will never happen. Not so long as I'm alive. No son of mine will marry a Jewish brat." I kept quiet, because I knew there was no point in arguing with him. But one day, I'd do whatever it took to find a life that was happy. A life where my father didn't dictate my actions.

  I wasn’t surprised when his long legs carried him across the room to close the distance between us. The slap of his hand against my left cheek was no shock either, and I barely flinched. He'd done much worse. "Am I understood, boy?"

  I grimaced, sucking my teeth as I murmured, "Yes, father."

  It hadn't been the first time I lied.

  And it would be far from the last.

  One

  Samara

  I ran.

  I ran harder than I ever had before. My bare feet left a trail of blood with each step on the stairs.

  Slipping on the hardwood, I skidded into the door with a painful thump that made my already tender stomach concave from the force of the doorknob. Blood coated my fingers, and I whimpered when I couldn't get a grip on the lock. It wouldn’t turn. Wouldn’t open.

  A groan and thud sounded at the top of the stairs where I'd left the bedroom door wide open in my effort to make a hasty escape. "Samara! You stupid cunt!" he roared at the top of his lungs, and I whimpered again, finally dragging my nightgown up to wrap it around the knob and pull it open. Fresh, cold air blew the door open further, blasting me in the face. On one side of my head, the hair billowed in the wind. On the other, it stayed plastered to my scalp in a bloody mess.

  His blood.

  Out the door. My feet thudded against the pavement, sprinting for the neighbor's house. Pavement turned to grass. The stab of each blade in the cuts on my feet echoed with the frigid night air stabbing at my lungs as I gasped for breath. I fell on the front step, finally screaming for Linda to open her door. Everything hurt. My soul hurt, my heart hurt, my body hurt.

  He was coming.

  Drunk. Desperate.

  "Linda!" I screamed, standing to bang on the door more frantically.

  She gasped when she tore it open, and I fell inside into a puddle of nothing but blood and bruised flesh.

  "Samara!" he yelled again, but the door closed and locked, cutting off the rage in his voice.

  Safe. Safe behind closed doors.

  For now.

  My eyes snapped open, and I shot to a sitting position in bed. My empty bed, with my new mattress.

  It didn't matter. Every time I opened my eyes, I still saw the broken mirror on the floor, the blood on the base of the lamp that I'd used to bash him over the head with. Too fevered, my body felt slick with sweat as I shoved the blankets off. I curled my legs in, crossing them and trailing a finger over the scars on my feet. Thick, hideous white lines that covered the soles from my toes to my heels.

  It took hours for Linda to pull out all the pieces of glass.

  It had taken almost as long to wash the blood off me, out of my hair, out from under my nails.

  I still didn't feel clean. Still woke up every day with the feeling of blood coating my skin and the stain of his touch on me.

  I stood to shower, making my way into the bathroom. I avoided looking in the mirror as I went. I didn't want to see my pale face staring back at me or see the vacant look in my terrified eyes. That look would stay until I washed the nightmare from my skin.

  Washed his touch down the drain until I was clean again.

  Another day, another nightmare of my doing. My phone chimed with a text message from the bedroom, and I felt my lips curve into a hesitant smile. I didn't need to check it to see who it was from or what it would say.

  My daily good morning message from Lino was one thing that drove Connor mad during our too-long marriage. Most days, I’d said good morning to my best friend before my ex-husband even when he was in bed next to me. Now it drew me out of the memories, and it pleased me to know that even though Connor was part of my past, Lino remained.

  I got in the shower, taking a deep breath and forcing myself to belt out an upbeat song while I washed away the sweat. There was no one to hear me, no one to tell me to just stop because he couldn’t stand the sound of my voice. Just me and my demons, taking back our power.

  It would be a good day, despite the rocky start.

  I just knew it.

  ✽✽✽

  My knee-high boots clicked on the granite tile floors of Lamb & Rowe. Such a stark contrast to the way my bare feet slid across my hardwood floor in my dream.

  My memory.

  People nodded as I passed, the file folder in my hand filled to the brim with charts and my monthly summaries for my boss. Summaries on all the people who stared at me, nodding in respect tinted with apprehension.

  I fought down the urge to smirk when I stepped into the elevator that would take me to the top floor, remembering what the bankers thought when Jasper Rowe first hired me. It hadn't mattered that I had a ring on my finger, because news spread through Chicago like wildfire, and I had foolishly married a partner in my last firm.

  But it didn't matter. My work ethic spoke for itself, and while Jasper and I were friendly, there was absolutely nothing romantic between us. I was his rock, professionally.

  Stepping out of the elevator into Jasper and I’s sanctuary, I dropped my phone on my desk quickly and made my way to his private office. I knocked on his door, letting myself in with no concern or hesitation even before he could respond. "Don't forget you have your lunch with Carson Davis in an hour."

  "Good morning to you too, Samara." There was an unmistakable smile to his voice, and I looked to him with a raised brow. His blond hair was perfectly styled as usual, and his honeyed skin glowed like he was well-rested. So, I couldn’t decide what had made him come to work so late. The man worked constantly.

  "It's noon."

  "It’s 11:56 actually," he returned, and I dropped the folder on his desk and crossed my arms over my chest. The position made me feel a little more capable of breathing in the black turtleneck I’d put on that morning to accompany my grey wool skirt. He grinned at me, and the lightest grey eyes I’d ever seen twinkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair and didn't even bother to open the file. "Your assessment?"

  "Mark Dobson's accounts aren't doing as well as they easily should be with the amount of hours he logged last month. It might have something to do with the rumors he's sleeping with Jim Clarke's wife during that time."

  Jasper’s stare blanked as he looked back at me, but I recognized the sudden rigidity to his frame. "That's a very serious accusation based on rumors." Even though his words might have seemed cautionary, the man knew me well enough to know I was far from interested in office gossip.

  I nodded to the folder, and he sighed and slid it open. The photos I'd printed from the high-tech security tapes spoke for themselves. "Fuck," he groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "That is way more of Dobson’s ass than I ever needed to s
ee. If this gets out...."

  "I've approved a $3,000 bonus for Mack in the security office for a signed NDA that he's not to speak of what we found on those tapes or you will own him for the rest of his life. We went through all the extra hours Mark logged, and I took care of the film from inside and around his office during those times. The photos are the only evidence. File them away for insurance, and then my suggestion would be to remind Dobson that if he breathes a word of his involvement with Mrs. Clarke, it will mean he makes the affair public record. He will blacklist himself from the other firms in the city following his termination here if this gets out."

  He sighed but nodded. "I’ll need to talk to Kelly first, but she always agrees with you. Pitbulls, both of you."

  "I'll call her assistant and get you a meeting on the books for whenever we can fit it in today, and I'll schedule Dobson's termination for first thing tomorrow morning. You also had a cancellation with Christopher French, and Dobson is free until 10 a.m."

  He took a sip of his coffee, placing it back in the exact spot on his desk where he kept it. Everything had its place in Jasper’s life. Then he turned to lock the photos in the safe tucked behind the portrait on the back wall of the office. "Is there anyone who can pick up the slack until we can hire a replacement?"

  I nodded, continuing when he didn’t see me. "I'll divide the main accounts between Johnson and Romero, two each, and distribute the less demanding accounts between Skorzeny and Evans."

  "Perfect. What would I do without you?"

  "Crash and burn, most definitely. It's incredible you made it this far in your life without me, honestly. I'm off to lunch. Do you think you can hold down the fort until I get back?" He turned around with a laugh, mimicking the smirk on my face with his own.