Where Our Heaven Was Never Built

For three years, I was with Nico Gallo, the Underboss of New York’s Gallo crime family. Three years, and never once did he promise me a future.

Instead, I got a front-row seat to someone else’s grand ceremony.

That day, I was at a baptism rehearsal, doing a final check of the venue for my design firm. When I looked up, I saw him—the man whose messages I waited for every single day—standing at the altar, his arm linked with another Principessa, receiving a blessing from the priest.

"Her fiancé is in Europe on business. I'm just here as a family representative," he explained later, his body ramrod straight, his tone calm. His jawline was as sharp and cold as a blade.

But his eyes couldn't hide a flicker of impatience, the restlessness of a wild beast trapped in a cage.

As if that wasn't enough, he demanded I hand over the estate blueprint I had designed for us. He gripped my shoulders, his voice low and imperious. "We're not in a rush. We have all the time in the world. I'll give you something even grander, I swear. But this time, I need you to help me. I'll make you Mrs. Gallo, Cassia. I promise."

He had no idea I’d revised that blueprint over a hundred times, that I’d planned every brick in the garden path at least seven times. To me, it wasn’t just a design. It was the dream I had poured three years of my life into.

I didn't argue. I just faded back into the shadows of the church.

Later, I lay alone on a cold examination table, listening to the steady beeping of a machine. Time slipped through my fingers as I counted my own heartbeats, one by one.

Perhaps those who build heavens for sinners are the first to be denied entry.

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1

Just before the church closed for the day, our final appointment arrived: a Principessa, here for her baptism rehearsal.

"That Ricci family Principessa is here again," my assistant, Jenna, whispered, leaning against a pillar and sighing. "Let's hope she's finally satisfied this time."

This particular "princess" was, indeed, a major headache. We had already revised the venue design for her five times, and not a single one had met her approval.

I picked up my tablet and strode inside. The moment my eyes landed on the man and woman at the altar, I froze.

My mind went blank.

Jenna cupped her face, her eyes sparkling. "Honestly, they look so good together. No wonder she's so picky. If my man looked like that, I'd want every detail to be flawless, right down to the scent of the candles."

Our voices caught the attention of the couple at the altar.

"Cassia…?"

The man’s smile vanished, his brows knitting together. For a split second, panic flashed in his deep-set eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, my voice sharp. "Didn't you say you had a site inspection tonight?" Fury coiled in my gut, but I forced myself to remain calm, even as my chest tightened until it was hard to breathe.

The woman in the white formal gown raised a delicate hand to her mouth, her eyes welling with tears as her voice trembled. "I'm so sorry… This was too selfish of me. Let's just forget it. I shouldn't be causing you two trouble. I'm sorry for disturbing you."

Nico quickly grabbed her wrist, murmuring a few soothing words before turning and striding toward me.

"I didn't tell you beforehand because I was worried you'd misunderstand. Her name is Seraphina Ricci, of the Ricci family. Her fiancé's family is very powerful, but he's in Europe on business and couldn't be here. The Gallo family has to show respect. I'm just representing the family, walking her through the rehearsal."

I stared at Nico, my expression a cold mask, then glanced at the woman beside him. I couldn't decide what to believe.

The Principessa drifted toward us, her designer silk gown shimmering like liquid moonlight. She managed to look both proud and fragile, a single, perfect tear clinging to her long lashes as she lowered her head.

"I'm truly sorry. I didn't realize you two were together. Nico assured me that you, of all people, would be understanding. That’s why I felt comfortable asking for his help…"

She gave a deep bow, her shoulders trembling theatrically.

I just watched it all unfold in silence.

Ha.

Understanding?

What kind of woman would be "understanding" enough to watch her own man hold another woman's hand and receive a blessing from a priest?

Under my icy gaze, Nico stepped forward to steady Seraphina, who looked as if she might collapse. He turned to me, his tone laced with a clear warning.

"Why are you staring at her like that? This isn't her fault. It's an important ceremony, and her fiancé is nowhere to be seen, leaving her to face this alone. What kind of man does that?"

He rarely showed his displeasure with me in public. What shocked me more was the coldness in his eyes and the poorly concealed irritation in his voice.

I was a professional. I had built a reputation on keeping my composure, so I forced my personal feelings down and got to work. I stepped aside and watched them walk the red carpet, hand in hand, over and over again. Turning, meeting each other's eyes, smiling. A sharp pain stabbed through my chest, and I couldn't suppress a low cough.

The rehearsal finally ended when the Principessa gave a satisfied nod.