The Fiancé My Best Friend Stole

When the ceremony began, I stood three steps behind Sophia and watched Luca keep his eyes on her face. When her hand trembled around the bouquet, he took it and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

At the Bellandi family's underground range, I had once fired a gun for the first time and nearly dropped it when the recoil jarred my wrist. Luca had taken my hand just like that and murmured, "Don't be scared. I've got you."

He was still gentle. He still remembered how to hold someone like she was precious.

He just didn't do it for me anymore.

"Do you take Sophia Rossetti as your wife," the priest asked, "to stand with her through honor and disaster, through the rise and fall of both families?"

Luca paused. His gaze slid toward me for less than a second, and the church seemed to disappear around us. There was pain in his eyes, but it was gone before I could trust it.

"I do," he said.

Sophia cried. The church burst into applause. I clapped too, quietly, because Sophia looked so happy and because I didn't know what else to do with my hands.

People glanced back as if they were waiting for me to crack. I wanted to ask why he could only look at me when no one was watching.

I didn't. My throat had closed too tightly for a scene.

The reception was held at a Rossetti lakeside hotel. Before dinner, Luca's underboss, Anthony, stopped me near the ballroom doors. He lowered his head, almost ashamed. "Ms. Vane, Mr. Bellandi said you should rest if you feel unwell."

I looked at him. "He sent you to tell me to leave?"

Anthony didn't answer.

Of course he didn't.

I took out my phone and sent Luca a message. [You saw me. You know who I am.]

His reply came fast. [Go home, Elena. Don't make this harder than it has to be.]

Harder for whom? I stared at the words until they blurred. Across the room, Sophia was in Luca's arms for their first dance. She stood on her toes to whisper something in his ear, and he lowered his head to hear her better. His hand rested at her waist with the ease of habit.

For a moment, I thought I might be sick.

Then Sophia saw me and waved, bright and innocent. She mouthed, [Are you okay?]

I nodded because I couldn't hate her. Not yet. Not when she looked at me with the same concern she had used to hold me together all those years.

I left before the cake was cut.

At home, I sat on the floor of the Lakeview penthouse in my bridesmaid dress and tried to breathe. This was the home Luca and I had chosen before our wedding. His glassware, records, and coat were still exactly where he had left them.

For five years, I had lived beside his absence as if loyalty could warm a room.

Now he was alive, married, and calling me trouble.