The Don's Forgotten Bride

"Alright, Adriana. Since you came here to make peace, I'll pretend I never heard that talk about severing the alliance."

"Go home and put the house in order. These pups were just born, still unsteady on their legs. I'm staying here with Gemma to watch over them a few more days."

Listening to the two of them, standing there in that dim little club he bankrolled with the Family's money, I almost laughed.

One played the kept woman without a shred of shame.

The other gift-wrapped his comare in honor like she was something sacred to the bloodline.

I didn't bother answering Lorenzo. I only gave him a thin, mocking smile.

"Since Miss Vitale is so gifted, taking a man who belongs to another woman is one thing. But did she really have to partner up with mine to steal my clothes too?"

"Tell me. This whole self-made-woman act of yours, is it a service you run for the home-wrecker trade specifically?"

A few patrons drifting near the back shelves, where the club fronted its little legitimate face to the world, turned to stare at Gemma.

"Wait, so this man isn't your boyfriend? Then the two of you sharing a spoon a minute ago, that's a little strange, isn't it?"

"Right? I just said you two made a sweet pair and you didn't deny it. Turns out he's got a wife?"

Gemma's face flushed deep red, cornered. Her hand rose flat against her collarbone, her chin trembling. But her eyes flicked once, quick, toward the patrons watching, measuring them, before the wounded look settled back into place.

The women looked her over with open disgust, set down what they'd been about to buy, and walked out into the street.

Gemma's eyes rimmed red. She turned to Lorenzo, all injury, and let it spill.

"Lorenzo, did she come here just to ruin me?"

"I only thought that sweater was warm and soft, perfect for the pups. She already spends so much of your money, she can have any clothes she likes. Why is she dragging my name through the mud like this?"

"Those were paying customers. How do they look at me now? How am I supposed to keep this place running after that?"

Lorenzo wiped her tears, aching for her, then turned the full weight of his attention on me. The room cooled by a degree.

"Adriana, I'm the one who took the sweater. Why are you taking it out on Gemma? It wasn't worth anything. When did you get this small?"

"You'll get bigger as the months go on and you won't fit it anyway. Have your mother knit you another."

"It's not some priceless piece. Why are you treating it like it's holy?"

That look on his face. Superior. Cold. The face of a Don who had decided, long ago, exactly where I ranked.

I couldn't take it anymore. I slapped him and screamed.

"Yes, what my mother made IS sacred! Because she can never knit me another one!"

"While you were here playing house with your precious childhood companion, while you'd rather watch her dog give birth than answer my calls when I begged you, my parents died!"

Lorenzo's eyes went wide. His arms dropped from Gemma on reflex.

"What did you say? How could your parents—"

Before he could finish, Gemma shoved me hard.

"Who do you think you are, putting hands on people?"

"It's a ratty old sweater. Nobody wants it. Here, take it back!"

She tore the wool off the pups and flung it into a soiled litter box the club's hired girl was about to carry out back.

"Parents dead? Please. I crossed paths with your mother and father at the grocer this very morning."

"I can't stand your kind, using a pregnancy as a free pass to lie, throw fits, and work your husband from every angle. You're a disgrace to every woman who ever stood on her own."

The litter box hadn't been emptied.

Clumps of waste clung to the wool, the stench rising thick and foul.

My mother's love, ruined beyond recognition.

"I, I didn't mean to. I didn't know the owner was going to—"

The girl shrank back from my bloodshot stare, too frightened to move.

Rage and hatred seared through me, scorching me from the inside out.

I turned and raised my hand high toward the woman who had started all of this.

But before my palm could reach Gemma's face,

Lorenzo's slap found mine first.

The crack rang out through the silent club.