The Mafia Don Who Lost His Bride

As I unpacked, I tried to push thoughts of Dominic from my mind, but they crept back like smoke under a closed door. His voice. His hands. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching, as though I were something precious and breakable. The way he looked at Chiara when everyone was watching, as though she were something he owed.

Just as I was pulling a fitted sheet over the mattress, my phone vibrated again. I hesitated before picking it up, certain it would be Ivo circling back for another round, or worse, Chiara calling to deliver some saccharine apology designed to twist the knife. But when I saw the name on the screen, my heart lurched against my ribs.

Dominic.

My breath came thin and shallow as I read the message.

"Neve, please. Can we talk? I need to see you."

I stared at the screen until the words blurred. Did he really think he could fix this with a handful of words on a glowing rectangle? After everything? After today?

My hands were shaking when I typed my reply.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now."

Before I could even set the phone down on the nightstand, it rang. Dominic's name filled the screen, pulsing with each vibration. I hesitated, my finger hovering over the decline button, but something stopped me. Some stubborn, traitorous part of my heart that still wanted to hear his voice. I took a deep breath and answered.

"What do you want, Dominic?" I kept my voice as steady as a blade balanced on its edge.

"Neve, it shouldn't have gone this far. Let's talk about this. Please." His voice carried that particular blend of desperation and warmth that had always undone me. The voice of a man who commanded a hundred soldiers but couldn't command the woman he was promised to.

"Why? So you can cancel again?" My voice climbed despite my efforts to hold it level. "So you can tell me how much you care while you keep putting Chiara first?"

"No. I wanted to explain." A pause. I could hear him breathing, measured and deliberate, the way he breathed before difficult negotiations. "I know you're hurt. I understand it. This isn't because of Chiara. I am the Don. I am responsible for every member of this Family's safety. She is under my protection. That is an obligation my father swore on his deathbed. You know this."

I scoffed, shaking my head even though he couldn't see me.

"Dominic, she is always injured. Every single time something important is about to happen for us, she collapses. Don't you find that a little odd?"

"Come on, Neve." Irritation sharpened his tone, the Don bleeding through the lover. "Anything can happen during combat training. You push yourself, you get hurt. Injuries are part of learning. Any recruit could understand that."

The words hit like a slap.

"Are you trying to say I'm childish? And Chiara getting injured every single time is not behaving like a child herself?"

"No, that's not what I meant." He caught himself, pulled back. "You have every right to be upset. We have been preparing for the ceremony for months. But you know we can never predict what will happen. Chiara's injury wasn't even that serious. She'll heal in a day or two. We can reschedule the union. What is a day or two?"

What is a day or two. As though the date meant nothing. As though I hadn't spent weeks with Nonna Lolita choosing flowers and fabric. As though the entire Family hadn't been gathered. As though my heart hadn't been laid bare on a silver tray for everyone to see, only to be pushed aside for a girl with a bruised ankle and a rehearsed whimper.

"I can't do this right now." My voice trembled despite every effort to hold it still.

"Neve, please. I just need you to hear me out. Can we at least meet? Just to talk." He was pleading now, and the sound of it was almost worse than the anger. Dominic Valente did not plead. Not with rival bosses. Not with federal prosecutors. Not with anyone. Only with me, and only when he knew he had lost ground he could not afford to lose.

"Talk? About what? About how you chose Chiara over me?" I pressed my free hand flat against the bare mattress, steadying myself. "You know what? I'm done hearing excuses."

"It's not an excuse. I just need a moment to explain everything. I thought you would understand my position. Being the Don, carrying the obligations of the Family. This isn't just about us, Neve."

"Right. Because your obligations are clearly more important than what we have. I understand that, Dominic. I do. But that doesn't change how I feel."

He sighed, and I could hear the frustration in his breath, heavy and controlled, the exhale of a man who was used to having the final word in every room he entered.