The Hundredth Time I Left My Mafia Husband

It wasn't long after Salvatore and I were bound together that the Bellini bloodline collapsed. My father, seeing the Family stripped of territory and tribute, threw himself from the roof of our compound and never woke from the coma that followed.

My mother, terrified the Gallos would let us rot now that we had nothing, slipped something into both Salvatore's wine and mine. Then she made her noise, loud enough that the whole underworld heard, forcing the Gallo Family to honor the blood-alliance pact and take responsibility.

That night was the beginning of all my humiliation.

It also completely ended whatever had lived between Salvatore and me when we were young.

He was forced into the alliance marriage, and on the wedding night he brought a woman under our roof to shame me.

He did everything right in front of me. Even the wrapper, I was the one who tore open and pressed into his hand.

I was the one who knelt on the floor afterward, cleaning up the whole mess, piece by piece.

I lived such a humble life for ten years.

Now, I couldn't live like this anymore.

"I'll take it off."

Before anyone in the room could react, I had already unfastened my shawl.

It was deep winter, but the parlor was warm, the radiators ticking against the cold pressing at the tall windows.

I stood near the entrance, though, and the icy wind clawed under the door and up my skirt, raising goosebumps along my bare arms and shoulders.

I reached back for the buckle of my dress, and the thin collar slipped free.

Most of my shoulders and the curve of my breasts were bared to the room.

"Dio!"

A few of the softer guests covered their eyes, unable to watch any longer.

The men looked on with great interest.

Only Salvatore's expression darkened. His lips pressed into a thin line, and the only sign of his anger was the unlit cigarette he'd begun to roll between two fingers, faster and faster.

The dress slipped down, and I was almost standing naked in front of them all.

The cigarette stopped spinning. He dropped it, tore off his suit jacket, and threw it over my shoulders.

"Adriana, you've got a death wish!"

"Every one of you, close your eyes. If a single word of what you saw tonight leaves this house, I'll see to it you don't watch the sun come up tomorrow."

"Get out. All of you."

Salvatore rarely raised his voice, least of all at a gathering like this, with old friends of the Family watching.

And they were all old acquaintances, men who understood exactly what a lowered voice from a Gallo meant. Conversations died. Chairs scraped. They began to file out.

Even the nine women he'd installed under his roof drifted upstairs one after another. Only Gina remained where she stood, fingers grazing the pearls at her throat.

"Salvatore, are you satisfied now? Will you let me go?"

I tilted my head back, stubbornly holding his gaze.

Tears rose in my eyes, but I didn't let them fall.

I had cried too many times for Salvatore. I didn't want to cry for him anymore.

"Adriana, don't play these little games of yours in front of me. Playing hard to get. It makes me sick to look at."

He still didn't believe a word of it, and he warned me not to shame the Gallo name.

I took a deep breath, then said, "Salvatore, this time I really want to sever the pact."

For a second he looked as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world. Then his hand clamped around my neck, forcing me into a bow.

"You think you can walk away from me? Can you cover a single day of your father's care? Can you cover your mother's spending, her endless little indulgences?"

"Adriana, your own mother would be the first to kneel in front of me, begging me not to cast you out."

His hatred for me and for my mother was beyond hiding.

He resented her for the drugs. He resented me for letting it happen.

"Even if your mother had never touched a drop of it, I would have married you. I would have helped your Family. But the two of you had to use the one method I despise above all others."

"Adriana, you personally destroyed whatever was between us."

No matter how many times I explained, Salvatore would never believe me.

Seeing that I stayed silent, his frown deepened.

He hauled me up and pressed me down to kneel in front of the woman, his hand at my neck, forcing me to put the shoes on her feet.

"Put them on her. You've been doing this kind of thing for ten years. You should be good at it by now."

In those ten years, I hadn't only served Salvatore. I'd served the nine women too, every one of them kept under the Family roof like ornaments.