Blood Debt The Don's Unwilling Bride

A faint crackle of fireworks bled through Cyrus's end of the line, muffled and distant, lasting only a few seconds before a long sigh followed.

"Adriana, not this again." His voice carried the quiet exasperation of a man accustomed to giving orders, not explanations.

Not this again? He was the one who had broken a promise, and somehow I was the one in the wrong for feeling disappointed?

Indignation flared hot beneath my ribs. "I know exactly where you are and what you're doing right now, Mr. Young Don! The society pages exist, you know! Maybe tell Lilith not to let photographers catch the two of you looking so cozy if you don't want anybody finding out!"

I ended the call and switched my phone to silent.

Standing, I crossed the room to the closet where I had stashed my suitcase. As I pulled the door open, my gaze snagged on the red gift bag tucked in the corner behind it. I had bought it last week. A deep navy-blue custom dive bag, the exact shade of the ocean at dawn, Cyrus's favorite time to dive.

I looked away from the gift bag and dragged out the suitcase, packing my clothes and belongings with quick, deliberate hands. I was determined to leave this villa tonight. After all, it belonged to Cyrus. Every marble tile, every silk curtain, every lock on every door answered to the Tangieri name. If this was truly over, then I would be the one to disappear from his life, since I was the one who had initiated the break.

It took me two hours to finish packing. I called a taxi, loaded my things into the trunk, and directed the driver toward a smaller, more affordable apartment in the suburbs where I had lived a few years ago.

It had been two years since I last set foot in this apartment. My parents had given it to me shortly after I landed a position as a writer at Sogno Publishing. In the beginning, I had chosen to stay here deliberately, unwilling to burden Cyrus with the responsibility of looking after my needs in the city. I wanted to prove I could stand on my own, separate from his world, separate from the long shadow the Tangieri name cast over everything it touched.

To cut a long story short, Cyrus decided it would be easier for me to live with him. He had a driver and a detail at his disposal that could take me anywhere, and we could see each other more often if I stayed under his roof.

Cyrus was insistent on the arrangement. Without a strong argument against it, I went along with his wishes and had been living with him ever since.

A small pang of regret pierced through me now, a sharp reminder of the distance that had crept into our lives despite sharing the same walls.

It felt tragic, because I had only truly noticed how frequently Cyrus was with Lilith after I started living with him. It made me question everything. What had been the point of us living together at all?

I stumbled into the apartment with exhaustion pressing down on my shoulders like a physical weight. With barely a thought, I abandoned all my things in the living room. I shuffled to the bedroom, pulled the plastic cover off the mattress, retrieved a clean sheet from the linen box in the closet, and collapsed into sleep.

Cyrus and I. The two of us had been physically close, yet our hearts seemed to drift further apart with each passing day. How had things turned out like this?

When the alarm jolted me awake the next morning, I reached for my phone out of habit.

Cyrus had left messages:

[Rhea, don't be jealous. I saw the gossip column, and as Lily's post shows, it was a last-minute sit-down. Lily asked for my help to close a deal with an overseas contact.]

[Stop being childish. We're adults now. Come home when you've calmed down.]

So now I was childish?

Cyrus's messages had successfully soured my mood, first thing in the morning.

I tossed the phone onto the bed and ignored it as I shuffled into the combined living room and kitchen. Grabbing a bottled drink I had left out from the night before, I tried to shake off the frustration his words had stirred up.

The word childish kept echoing in my mind, igniting small bursts of anger that flared and refused to die.

Was I really that childish?

I had lost count of the times Cyrus canceled our plans, postponed his own Family meetings, or rescheduled dinners with his father and the caporegimes just because Lilith called him for one of her so-called rescues.

I could never forget that particular night. Lilith had demanded Cyrus accompany her to one of the Dicellore family's private estates. I had been close enough to hear her voice bleeding through the phone speaker as she begged him to come because she was still terrified after watching a horror film.

For the love of God.

Who in their right mind watches something that scares them so badly? Besides, Lilith was never truly alone at that estate. Her household staff, her personal security, her father's soldiers were always there, around the clock, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, ensuring her safety and comfort.

Nevertheless, Cyrus changed out of his pajamas and into street clothes. "Lily needs me," he said, "so I have to go for a bit."

I was appalled by his decision and tried to argue with him.

But he pressed two fingers against the crease forming between his brows and rubbed the tension at his temple. "There's nothing between us, Adriana." He let out a long sigh, deliberately avoiding the name Rhea, the intimate name only he used for me. Three telltale signs of his growing irritation, stacked one on top of the other like rounds being chambered.

Then Cyrus fixed his gaze directly on mine and added, "But if your mind is already made up, is there any point in my trying to convince you otherwise?"

With that, he walked out of the villa. He took his own car keys and drove to wherever Lilith was on his own, dismissing his driver's offer. Every single time.

The day after our arguments, Cyrus would always find a way to sweep me off my feet with a surprise. A candlelit dinner at a restaurant that required reservations months in advance. A rooftop overlooking the harbor, cleared of every soul but us. I could always see the effort he poured into each makeup gesture, and, inevitably, I would always forgive him.

We would reconcile, our relationship seemingly saved. Then the cycle would begin again. Over and over. It reached the point where it was hard for me to recall a single date between us that had not been triggered by something involving Lilith, especially after Cyrus and I became publicly acknowledged.

Did he think I was too blind to recognize the same pattern repeating itself?

Yes, I was easy to please. I admitted that freely. But it was because I never saw the point in constantly warring with someone I loved so deeply.

Not this time, though. I finally saw the reason why I needed to stop.

Cyrus had feelings for Lilith, and it was time I accepted that.

That was why I had to stop falling for him. Once and for all.