The Don's Lie

I stood frozen at the window, watching the Rolls disappear around the corner.

Night fell. The streetlights came on one by one.

Round, like the burn scars on my arm. The ones Vivian had given me with her cigarette.

She was cruel. Truly cruel.

One night she'd made me take swimsuit photos of her, didn't like the results, and shoved my head underwater in the pool.

"Isa, are you blind? Do you have any taste? Do I really look this fat in your shots? Maybe a swim'll clean out your eyes."

I walked home that night in soaking clothes, in the dead cold of the early morning.

The second Angelo saw me, he pulled me into his arms. "Just quit. I'll cover us, okay?"

I'd shaken my head. "The agency pays me three times what other assistants make. I can take it."

When I'd signed with the agency, they'd wanted to make me an actress.

But they kept pushing me toward dirty side jobs. I refused. Assistant work was all they'd let me do.

The pay was good. Much better than the others.

Getting bullied by Vivian beat the alternative.

For my mother. For me and Angelo's future. I'd put up with it.

Angelo had opened his mouth that night, but said nothing. Just held me tighter.

He'd pressed his face into my back and whispered, over and over: "I'm sorry, Isabella. I'm sorry."

After that, Vivian eased up on the physical stuff.

But her tongue got meaner.

Now I understood. Angelo must've said something to her.

Out of guilt? Or was it a new round of the game?

I wanted out.

I started packing. There wasn't much of me in this apartment.

The thrift-store bookshelf was lined with his books, sorted by spine color.

We'd painted the walls together, in the color he'd picked.

We'd both ended up with white paint on our faces, laughing till our stomachs hurt.

The tomato plants he'd put on the balcony were yellowing.

The home we'd built piece by piece.

It was just a stage. For his performance.

I dropped onto the bed, wrung out.

With the first light of morning came the click of a key in the lock.

Angelo walked in.

He'd changed.

Armani suit, silver cufflinks catching the light.

The luxury that had always been on the other side of glass was suddenly standing in my doorway.

He took in my dead-eyed stare and reached over to stroke my hair.

"Isabella, don't be angry. I'm going to explain everything."

"Three years ago, I went after Vivian. She turned me down."

"For her image, she demanded I give up being the Don. I couldn't do that."

"She got vicious. Said if I weren't a Don, no woman would ever love me."

"I wanted to prove her wrong. To get back at her. So I..."

He trailed off, like the rest hurt to say.

I clenched my teeth. My voice came out poisonous. "So the noble Don Angelo decided to throw his love at some peasant girl, Isabella."

He folded his hands under his chin and looked straight at me. "Not charity. You conquered me."

"In front of you," he gave a small smile, "I was still that broke kid. Crazy about you."

That earnest face almost made me laugh. Play a role long enough and you really do forget who you are.

His phone screen lit up on the couch.

A message from Vivian.

Vivian: [Angelo, stop sulking. Fine, this time I'll be your girlfriend. No conditions.]

He cleared his throat, embarrassed, and typed back: [You think I'd believe anything you say?]

I grabbed the phone. I wanted them to stop playing this game in front of me.

What I saw was a group chat. Vivian was the admin.

I tapped in. The group had been created three years ago.

Angelo tried to stop me. I lifted my eyes and stared him down. His hand froze.

"Look. Look, and you'll know. I really do love you."

My hands trembled as I scrolled to the top.

The first message. Vivian:

Vivian: [Angelo, if you want to spite me, can you at least pick a better girl?]

Vivian: [Isabella? Really? You that desperate?]

Angelo: [I'm going for the one closest to you. So you have to watch.]

The others piled on: [Damn, this is better than Vivian's new movie.]

Vivian: [Don't think I'm jealous. Isabella's a lapdog. Not worth my time.]

Angelo: [We'll see.]

Every time he and I got closer, the chat exploded:

Someone: [Vivian, don't underestimate Angelo's game. I bet she's in his bed within a month.]

Someone else: [Classic Don move. The assistant's even putting her own money toward his debt.]

Every line burned like acid.

I looked up at Angelo, eyes wet, trembling, no words coming out.

He sighed and looked away. "They're guys who live with guns. They talk like animals."

I wiped my eyes hard and kept reading.

Further down, Angelo's messages got fewer.

When the mockery got bad, he'd type: [Shut up.]

Or: [She's not your business.]

When someone joked the Don had actually fallen for her, he just went silent.

He let them mock me. For three years.

Was that what he called love? Not insulting me himself?

I was a prop. A trophy for his ego.

My stomach turned. My hand shook against the edge of the phone.

Angelo grabbed it and held my hand tight. "You know how I feel. That's enough."

He pulled me into his chest, his breath hot against my ear.

"It started as spite. But I meant it after. I love you, Isabella."

I shoved him off and stood up.

Every word out of my mouth felt like glass. "Angelo, my life isn't your toy."

"I don't love you anymore. Congrats. You finally got Vivian."

I walked straight out the door.