Paid $5 Million To Leave the Mafia Don

I’d just landed, and before I could even drop my luggage, my agent was already pushing me to attend a business gala.

"Eleanor, every influential gallery owner and collector in New York will be there. You have to make an appearance."

I glanced down at my outfit.

A simple white shirt I wore for a comfortable flight, a pair of slightly faded straight-leg jeans, and plain white canvas sneakers. I had no makeup on, just a thin layer of tinted moisturizer to hide the jet lag.

Hardly gala attire.

But I didn't care. My talent and my market value had earned me the right to not kiss anyone's ass.

I took a cab to the venue. As I was about to walk up the steps, a thick arm blocked my path.

"Sorry, ma'am. This is a private event tonight," the bouncer said, his eyes scanning my jeans and sneakers with a sneer.

I was about to pull out my invitation when a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Eleanor? Is that really you?"

It was Leo, Lucius's suck-up of a lieutenant, the one who loved to kiss ass and run his mouth. He strode toward me in a tailored suit and polished leather shoes.

His eyes raked over me with exaggerated surprise. "Well, well, if it isn't the Don's most loyal little puppy. Three years, and you end up looking like this? Rough."

I ignored his taunt and reached for my invitation.

"Don't even try it!" Leo snapped, slamming his hand down on my purse. "You found out the Don was here and came camping out, hoping to get back with him, didn't you? Playing the pity card by dressing like a charity case? That's a new low, even for you."

I lifted my head and stared at him. My voice was ice. "Get your hand off me."

Leo froze, clearly not expecting that tone from the meek girl he remembered. He recovered with a sneer. "Alright, drop the act. Everyone knows you can't survive without Lucius."

He turned to the bouncer and jerked his chin up arrogantly. "She's with me."

The bouncer’s attitude flipped instantly. "Of course, Mr. Leo. Right this way, sir," he said, bowing.

"Go on in," Leo said, winking at me. "The Don's in a great mood. Just closed a deal on the South Side turf. If you get on your knees and beg him now, he might even toss you a few bucks for some new clothes."

He pushed open the heavy, ornate doors and swaggered inside.

I watched him go, a scornful smirk playing on my lips.

I put my invitation back in my bag and followed him in, my face a mask of indifference.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw him: Lucius Falcone, surrounded by his cronies. Three years had smoothed the sharp edges of his youth, replacing them with a colder, more commanding presence.

A beautiful young woman was draped on his arm. She wore a fire-red, low-cut gown, her expression as bold as her black hair and red lips. It wasn't Tina.

Looks like his taste—and the speed at which he replaced women—hadn't changed.

I gave them a single, detached glance and turned toward the bar.

But Leo’s voice boomed across the hall.

"Don! Look who's here!"

"It's Eleanor! Your old groupie you couldn't get rid of!"

A brief silence fell over the ballroom.

The next second, a hundred pairs of eyes were on me like spotlights. A mix of mockery, curiosity, disdain, and pure glee at my misfortune. A web of malice.

"Is that really her? How does she have the nerve to come back to New York?"

"God, look at what she's wearing. Did she run out of money and come back to beg?"

"She left in such a huff, I almost thought she had a backbone. Guess it was all just a game."

"I told you. A gutter rat like her could never truly leave the power of the Falcone family. See? Not even three years, and she's back, starving and crawling for scraps."

The ugly whispers were everywhere.

I just stood there, my spine ramrod straight.

No shame. No retreat.

I let them stare, my gaze cutting through the crowd until it locked with Lucius's.

He looked up sharply. The moment he saw me standing in the doorway, his pupils contracted. The lazy confidence on his face froze, replaced by shock and something else… something I couldn't read.