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Introduction
The novel 'Don Carina' was inspired by actual people and events in Southern Italy before and during World War II.
I thoroughly researched the nature of daily life in Naples and made a careful attempt to keep the dramatic historical events surrounding the city during the war as accurate as possible. Naples endured more air attacks, starvation, and hardship than any Italian city during WWII. The citizens of Naples suffered more than a hundred air attacks, a brutal German occupation, and deplorable living conditions. After three years of uninterrupted Nazi rule over Europe, Naples was the first major city to be liberated by the Allied troops, but Neapolitans continued to experience many more hardships throughout the remainder of the war and for years thereafter.
Carina made her life choices under these conditions. I believe the choices she made will amaze the reader, as they did me.
Summary for the Novel 'Don Carina'- Carina's mafia boss husband becomes incapacitated during WWII, in Naples Italy. Carina battles for control of his organization, in order to save her family from the threat of his own men, the Nazis, other crime families and the devastation of the war only to discover that none of these outside threats endanger her more than her own choices.
Opening Pages of 'Don Carina'
Chapter 1
1946 Southern Italy
"I'll always protect you, my prince." I took a tactical position beside him on the sofa and pulled him back against me, bringing his head to my bosom. His breathing was tranquil and slow. It had been many years since I had felt him there and it seemed both sweet and disturbing.
Reflecting on our past together, I pulled my long silken scarf across his chest and wrapped the soft but strong cloth carefully around his arms and body. He didn't respond. I gave him a gentle caress along his neck, swept my hand up to his temple and ran my fingers through his black hair, now speckled with gray. "Through the war, the Allied air attacks, the Nazis, I've watched after this family well. I've done everything necessary to protect it."
I smiled, but my throat tightened with tears of regret as I pulled out my stiletto. Placing my arm across his chest, I told him, "I always have and always will do what's best for you and the family. I do love you, principe."
The look of contentment on his face seemed to acknowledge his agreement. During the last four years, since the bombing, my husband hadn't uttered a word. Trapped within his secret world, he stared vacantly into the distance. I kissed his cheek and sliced the blade deep into the artery in his thigh, the fastest and least painful way to bleed him. Feeling the incision, he recoiled. I held the binding scarf tightly around his body with my free arm.
Once again, he relaxed as his warm blood began to pool on the stone floor. The weight of his body pulled him from my embrace, and he slid onto the cool ground.
"You know this is for the best." My tone was soothing as I knelt beside him. "Better to die at the hand of family than a stranger. You do understand, don't you?"
I was certain he did. His face appeared calm as the light faded from his eyes. In seconds, he was gone from me--from all of us. The weight of another unrighteous deed descended upon me--the burden of having so many in my care. I gently patted his cheek. "Sleep well." I stroked his arm and felt the heat of life begin to lessen. As I witnessed his soul withdraw from his body, unsettling memories came to me, memories of finding my father all those years ago. "Rest quietly, like Papa."
That is the true account of the Prince of Napoli's death. I have heard many whisperings over the years of how he met his end, but none of them are accurate. Various versions of different events in my life have been softly spoken to me as well, by people who were unaware that I was the one they were rumoring about. But here and now I've laid down the truth about those years. I don't know who will read this account, but it's enough that deep within me I needed to clear the waters, to separate the fact from the fiction, as Napoli is a city rife with myth.
While those in Napoli will know only of the "Prince," my story must begin with Papa. While he wasn't officially royalty, he was a prince to me, and all life stories begin with a father and a mother. During the past fifteen years, it seemed as though I've lived several lifetimes, but I remember exactly how I felt as a young, frightened, naive girl of sixteen in my mother's ancestral home in October of 1932.
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