He Never Claimed Me in Public,So I Wed the Don Who Never Forgot Me

The Family's house physician studied the fake smile pasted on my face and teased me.

"Your capo already left, so you don't have to torture yourself by forcing a smile. Gruff as he is, that man of yours has a soft heart underneath. He covered every dollar of the bill himself."

The fake smile slid into a bitter one.

Lorenzo had played his part too well.

That was why, apart from a handful of his made friends, not a single soul in the Family knew we'd been together. Five years of it.

I'd asked him countless times when he'd finally let me stand at his side in the open. Every time, he'd brushed me off with the same line about how the timing wasn't right, how a man in his position couldn't afford whispers running through the crew.

To the point where I no longer knew what, exactly, we even were.

Today, he'd given me the answer.

Mistaking me for someone who'd lost her memory, the words that flew out of his mouth, "I'm just your capo," were what he truly believed.

The car hadn't hurt me badly. After three days under the doctor's watch in the back rooms of the social club, I was cleared to leave.

Because the Family's arrangement covered most of it, the overpayment went straight back into Lorenzo's account.

The man who hadn't shown his face or sent a single word in three days finally called.

"Out already? You could've given me a heads-up. I've got a sit-down today, no time to come for you."

"Mm."

I swallowed the accusation that nearly broke loose.

His location pinged from a hotel downtown.

What kept him busy needed no explanation.

A woman's voice rang out behind him.

"Come dry my hair already…"

He hung up immediately.

Not long after, the transfers came through.

One for $13.14, one for $5.20.

Sweet little amounts, both of them. The exact numbers I'd wanted to receive for five years, the ones he'd always shot down.

I'd wanted what every other woman gets, to show off being loved, just once in a while.

Now that I'd decided to let go, for whatever was going on behind those eyes of his, he'd finally given me what I wanted.

Looking at his new profile photo, I tapped refund on both.

His picture was unmistakably half of a matching pair.

Just not with me.

Lorenzo sent me a string of question marks. I didn't reply.

Back at the apartment he kept for me, the place looked exactly as it had the day I left.

So he hadn't set foot here once since the night of the concert.

I reined in my thoughts and started packing.

In just half a day, the home I'd spent five years carefully putting together stood noticeably bare.

Most of it was the couple's things I'd bought with my own money. But Lorenzo had grown so used to keeping us hidden that he hated wearing or carrying anything that might hint he had a woman of his own.

I used to tease him about being as careful as a man living a double life.

Turns out it was because, in his heart, I had never been his woman at all.

Halfway through, Lorenzo actually came back.

"Adriana, what's your problem? I call you for dinner and you won't pick up or answer!"

The scent of a perfume that wasn't mine came off him, and I quickly put up a hand to keep him from getting closer.

I glanced at the suspicious mark on the side of his neck and said flatly,

"Was busy. Didn't check the phone."

He swept his eyes over the apartment, clearly irritated.

"Don't tell me you've been busy tearing the place apart. You just got out of bed, ever think about resting?"

He pointed at the few boxes of brand-new things on the floor I hadn't gotten around to throwing out yet.

"This stuff all junk now?"

I bent down to lift the box, and he took it from my hands.

"Enough, I'll go toss it. And quit buying useless crap from now on. Money burning a hole in your pocket?"

"Hurry up and change. I'm taking you out to eat."

I was leaving. Some things had to be said straight.

From the balcony, I watched him drop those couple's things into the trash without a shred of reluctance.

Just like the five years between us. Not worth a thing.

We went to a restaurant together, one of the quiet places the Family kept as a front, and he ordered several of the dishes we always got. But he also ordered the one thing I hate most, the bitter melon with scrambled eggs.