Too Late For The Mafia King's Regret

Nora POV:

I followed them to The Velvet Room.

It was a high-end gentlemen's club downtown, a glitzy front for the family's money laundering operations. The neon sign buzzed in the rain, casting a sickly red glow across the wet pavement.

I parked down the street, killing the lights and tucking the car between a dumpster and a delivery van. I killed the engine and waited.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

Finally, the side door of the club opened.

Lucien walked out. He wasn't alone.

Sophia was draped over his arm. She was wearing a red dress that was barely a dress at all. It was a second skin of scarlet silk, slashed up the thigh and plunging down the chest. She looked stunning. And utterly cheap.

They stopped under the awning.

I rolled down my window a crack, straining to hear over the drumming of the storm. The rain muffled their voices, but they were loud. They were arguing.

"You promised!" Sophia's voice was shrill. "You said you'd be with me tonight! I saw the drones, Lucien! Eleonora? Really?"

She shoved at his chest.

Lucien caught her wrists. He didn't look angry. He looked... indulgent. Bored, almost.

"Stop it," he said, his voice carrying over the wind. "It's for show, Sophia. You know that. She expects it."

"I want fireworks," she pouted, pressing her body against his. "Like the ones you set off for my birthday last week."

My breath hitched.

Last week. The fireworks over the bay. He had told me it was a test for a shipment of explosives.

They were for her.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Every memory of the last few months was rewriting itself in my head. The late nights. The "business trips." The sudden need for privacy.

"You have me," Lucien said, pulling her close. "Isn't that enough? I'll give you anything you want. Power. Status. Just be patient."

"I don't want to be the mistress," she whispered, tracing a finger down his lapel. "I want to be the one standing next to you."

"You are," he murmured.

He kissed her.

It wasn't a quick peck. It was hungry. Desperate. He devoured her right there on the street, his hands roaming over her body with a familiarity that made me want to vomit.

He picked her up effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her back inside the club, kicking the door shut behind them.

I sat in the dark car.

The rain hammered against the roof.

I didn't cry. I think I had run out of tears. I felt hollowed out. Scraped clean.

Seven years of loyalty. Seven years of standing by him while he committed crimes that would send a normal man to the electric chair. I had compromised my soul for him.

And he traded me for a pair of legs and a pout.

He had no honor. He was just a man. A weak, selfish ordinary man.

I started the car.

I drove back to the estate in a trance. It was 2:00 AM when I pulled in.

I didn't go to the master bedroom. I couldn't stomach looking at that bed. I went to the guest room at the end of the hall. I locked the door. Then I wedged a chair under the handle.

I lay on top of the covers, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling.

At 3:30 AM, I heard the roar of his engine.

He was back.

I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs. Then silence. He was in the master bedroom. He was finding it empty.

"Nora!"

His roar shook the house.

I didn't move.

I heard him running down the hall. Doors were being thrown open. He was searching for me.

He reached the guest room. He tried the handle. Locked.

"Nora! Open this door!"

"Go away," I said. My voice was flat.

Crack.

He didn't wait. With a deafening splintering sound, he kicked the door. The chair skidded across the floor.

Lucien stood in the doorway, his chest heaving. He looked wild. Panic and rage warred in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. "Why are you in here? I thought you were gone. I thought someone took you."

He rushed to the bed.

Before I could sit up, he grabbed me. He pulled me into a crushing hug, burying his face in my neck.

"Don't ever hide from me," he growled, his voice trembling. "I almost burned the city down."

He smelled of rain. And smoke.

And sex.

He smelled like her.

I lay limp in his arms. He was squeezing me so tight it hurt, desperate to reassure himself that he still possessed me.

"I couldn't sleep," I lied. "Insomnia."

He pulled back, cupping my face. His thumbs stroked my cheeks. He looked relieved. He looked like he loved me.

"You scared me," he whispered. He kissed my forehead. "Come back to bed."

"No," I said. "I'm sick. I don't want to get you sick."

He frowned. "I don't care."

"I do," I said, turning my face away. "Please, Lucien. Let me sleep."

He hesitated. Then he sighed.

"Fine," he said. "Rest. I'll see you in the morning."

He stood up and walked to the door. He looked back at me once, his silhouette dark against the hallway light.

"I love you, Nora," he said.

"Goodnight," I said.

He closed the broken door.

I stared at the wood splinters on the floor.

If he truly cared, he wouldn't have touched another woman. If he truly loved me, he wouldn't have shattered me.

Two days. Just two more days.