Chapter 2

Back then, I'd just closed a three-million-dollar move for the Family, brokered clean, and I wanted Salvatore to take me to the sit-down that followed. Instead, he told me he had to avoid the appearance of favoritism.

Angry, I pressed him. Nobody in our world knew we were bound. What appearance was there to avoid?

His face darkened, the way a room darkens when the Don stops smiling.

"Adriana Ricci, a place at this table is for building a name, not for trailing after a man like some lovesick girl."

"And not every woman has that kind of steel in her."

From that day on, I carried the whole "avoiding favoritism" thing through to the end.

No matter how hard the rain came off the harbor, I never rode in his car to or from the club.

At the sit-downs, I wouldn't spare him a second glance.

In the elevator up to the estate offices, I kept my distance.

I always thought the rule he held me to was the same rule he held for every made man under him.

But now, Gina had shattered all of that.

Gina answered sweetly, her voice pitched to please.

"Of course, Don Falcone. I'll go get it ready right now."

Then she turned, and her eyes met mine.

"Adriana…"

I didn't look at her. I walked straight into Salvatore's office, sat down on the leather sofa, and tossed the terms of my standing onto his desk.

"I want an explanation."

He frowned.

"The arrangement spells it out clearly."

I let out a soft laugh.

"Three years at the edge of the territory, and all you hand me is a place running one operation under someone else?"

"Salvatore, did you call me back just so I could watch you groom your little protégée for the captaincy that was mine?"

His voice dropped low, the register that made grown soldiers still their hands.

"Adriana, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking nonsense?"

I met those sharp, cutting eyes of his.

"Then why does every man in this Family know she's your protégée, but not one of them knows I'm your wife?"

"Salvatore, am I really so… unpresentable?"

As the last words left my mouth, my chest felt stuffed full of cotton.

My nose stung, and the tears fell before I could stop them.

I hated that after all these years I still couldn't break the habit of crying at moments like this. I turned away to wipe my eyes. My father's signet ring bit into my finger as I turned it once, twice, holding the fury down.

When I turned back, Salvatore was watching me with a perfectly calm expression, like he was looking at a madwoman.

"Adriana, you're not some green girl fresh off the boat anymore. Don't bring your feelings into a room where men do business."

He picked up the phone in his hand, his tone gentle now, the way a man is gentle when he has already decided you don't matter.

"I'll go with you. Wait for me down in the garage. That one's a slippery old hand at the table, you can't handle him alone."

Then he took a bottle of peach water from the mini fridge, twisted it open, and set it on the desk in front of me, deliberate, the cap clicking down against the wood.

"When you've calmed down, we'll talk."

The door closed, and the whole floor of the club fell silent, the way a place goes quiet when the Don has passed through it.

I threw that bottle of peach water into the trash.

He'd forgotten. I was allergic to anything with peach in it.

The Salvatore from eight years ago was gone.

When I dragged my suitcase back to the estate apartment, I found Salvatore's car parked below, lights burning behind the curtains upstairs.

I keyed in my fingerprint. Wrong the first time. Wrong the second.

Just as I was about to try a third time, the door opened.

A head poked out. It was Gina.

When she saw it was me, she looked a little surprised.

"Adriana… what are you doing here?"

I curled my lips.

"I'm coming home to my own place. Is there a problem?"

"Your place?"

She smiled.

"You must be mistaken. This is the housing the Family gave me. Have you been away at the edge of the map so long you came to the wrong door?"

I shoved the door open and gave a cold laugh.

"I have been away a long time, but not long enough to forget my own home."

"Should I call in someone from the Family to come verify whose name is on it?"

Salvatore came out of the bathroom, one hand drying his hair, the other dragging my suitcase inside.

When he saw me, his expression didn't change, his tone offhand.