The Last Thing the Don Expected Was Divorce

The armored gates clanged shut behind me, and I froze in the marble foyer. Lila was draped over the baby grand piano in the drawing room, wearing nothing but a sheer white silk slip.

"I thought you were at the Ritz charity luncheon," I said, my voice flat. "Said you were going to find yourself a proper boyfriend."

She twirled a grape between her manicured fingers, a lazy smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, I did go. Met the most charming man there. So powerful, so possessive... we left before the first course was even served."

Her eyes locked onto mine, triumphant, like this was some twisted game she'd already won.

"He got so jealous when another man looked at me," she purred.

"We spent three hours in his car in the parking garage. He couldn't keep his hands off me."

My nails dug into my palms until I tasted blood.

"When did this start? You never mentioned him before."

She laughed, a sharp, bitter sound.

"Ten months ago. The day my brother's body was brought home. Vincenzo introduced us. Said he was the only man who could protect me."

Ten months. Exactly when the late nights at the"warehouse"began.

A cold rage settled in my bones. Then I felt Vincenzo's hands on my shoulders, heavy and warm.

"You've had a brutal day, amore," he said, like he hadn't just spent the afternoon sleeping with another woman in our car.

"Let me draw you a bath. You need to rest."

I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning against it until my knees stopped shaking. I'd just stripped off my clothes when I realized I'd left my robe on the bed.

I cracked the door open. And the world stopped.

Ten feet away, Vincenzo had Lila bent over the piano keys.

His fist was tangled in her hair, yanking her head back, while his other hand dug into her hip hard enough to bruise.

"Slow down," she gasped.

"Elena's still in the shower. Didn't you get enough earlier?"

He growled, low and dangerous.

"Shut your mouth. If I ever see another man look at you, I'll feed them to the dogs. Do you understand?"

She giggled, and her eyes slid directly to me, standing in the bathroom doorway.

"Anything you say, baby,"she purred, loud enough for me to hear every word."I'm all yours. Your jealousy drives me crazy."

I slammed the door shut and turned the lock. The scalding water poured over me, but it didn't burn half as bad as the memory of our honeymoon in St. Barts.

I'd smiled at a bartender who'd handed me a cocktail. Vincenzo had dragged me back to the villa and locked me inside for three days. I later found out the bartender had been found floating in the harbor with a bullet in his head.

"Elena, you're mine,"he'd whispered, holding me so tight I couldn't breathe."No one else gets to look at you. No one else gets to touch you. Promise me you'll never leave."

I'd promised. I'd been faithful to a fault. But now his obsession had shifted. It was no longer me he wanted to possess. It was her.

When I finally emerged, Lila was gone.

Vincenzo was sitting on the bed, a plate of sliced strawberries and a glass of warm milk on the nightstand. The sight made my stomach turn.

"I know your stomach's been upset,"he said, handing me the glass."This will help you sleep."

The warmth seeped into my hands, but I felt ice cold inside. How could he act so normal?

Minutes ago, he'd been bedding another woman on the piano where I'd played my favorite Chopin nocturnes for him.

I didn't sleep a wink that night. Sometime before dawn, I must have drifted off, because a scream jolted me awake.

"ELENA!"

Vincenzo was sitting bolt upright, his hands scrambling in the dark until they found me. He pulled me against his chest, his heart hammering against my back.

"Don't leave me,"he gasped, his voice raw."Please. I dreamed you walked away, and I couldn't find you. It was hell."

I stared at the wall, silent.

His nightmare was going to come true. I'd be on a plane to New Zealand, and he'd never see me again.

Whatever had spooked him, it made him cling tighter.

The next morning, he refused to let me out of his sight. He drove me to the gallery, then dragged me to his shipping port headquarters, where crates of smuggled cigarettes and weapons sat stacked to the ceiling.

His office took my breath away.

Every wall was covered in my paintings. Every sketch, every watercolor, every half-finished canvas I'd ever thrown away. He'd tracked them all down, framed them in gold, and hung them like trophies.

A chill ran down my spine.

"Women throw themselves at me every day," he murmured, pressing his lips to my neck. "But when I look at these, I remember who I belong to. You have nothing to worry about. I'm all yours."

I said nothing. A knock came at the door. Enzo's voice:"Boss, the Irish mob's here. They're ready to talk."

Vincenzo sighed, holding me a moment longer."Stay here. I'll be back in an hour."

I wandered the warehouse floors, counting the minutes until I could escape. At noon, my phone buzzed.

"Mrs. Moretti,"the consulate officer said."Your residency visa is ready. You can pick it up any time this afternoon."

I opened my mouth to answer.

Then a cold, sharp voice cut in from behind me.

"Visa?"

My blood turned to ice.