Chapter 1The Don Chose Her, I Left

The year I turned 20, Vincenzo Romano, the Don of the Romano family, suddenly confessed his feelings for me beneath the August meteor shower. He said he'd secretly loved me for years.

I looked at his jaw, clenched so tight it looked unnatural, and said yes.

For five years, he spoiled me rotten. Whenever he came home from a trip abroad, he brought me a bouquet of pink myrtle. Whenever we made love, he kissed the tip of my ear and called me his "little princess."

Then one day, I overheard his right-hand man, Dario Bassi, talking to him.

"Are you really going to keep up the act with Enora? Didn't you only get with her back then to make Lyla jealous?

"Lyla's divorced and back now. You can drop the act, can't you?"

That night, I opened the locked drawer in his study. He'd once told me it held little reminders of our love.

Instead, I found his keepsakes from Lyla Ferraro: a watch, emerald cufflinks, a sandalwood rosary... Each piece was engraved with their initials.

There was also a stack of love poems in Latin, written in his own hand. They were passionate and lyrical, nothing like the calm face he showed the world.

Every one of them was addressed to Lyla.

Five years.

Five years of lies, shattered in seconds.

I quietly booked a train ticket to Geneva.

In two days, I'd be out of Vincenzo's life forever.

* * *

I went over every detail of leaving the country with my assistant, Faith Moreau, then hung up.

A place where nobody knew me. A new identity. At midnight the day after tomorrow, I'd vanish beyond the Romano family's reach.

The lock clicked. Vincenzo came in with the cold still clinging to him and pulled me into his arms as naturally as ever. He smelled of whiskey.

"Who were you on the phone with just now?"

"A supplier for the lab." I set my phone face down on the table. "Just checking the inventory."

He didn't ask anything else. He simply reached out, the way he always did, and pressed his warm palm to my cold cheek. "You spent too long in the cold storage room today. Your body can't handle it. Next time, don't do that work yourself."

Then he tucked a bouquet of salmon-pink myrtle into my arms.

"The day after tomorrow is our fifth anniversary. I've got a surprise ready for you."

I looked down at the flowers. Their petals were bright and delicate, and their scent was light and sweet.

For five years, he'd had fresh myrtle sent to me every week.

I'd always thought he'd gone out of his way to learn what I liked.

It had all been a cruel coincidence.

Only yesterday, I'd found out that Lyla, the woman he'd grown up with and always loved but could never have, adored myrtle more than any other flower.

Every thoughtful thing he'd done for me had been based on what another woman liked.

I breathed in the sweet scent, and my stomach turned. I ran to the sink and threw up.

My throat burned.

"Enora!" Vincenzo frowned and covered my white-knuckled fingers with his rough palm. "Are you okay?"

I looked into his dark, unreadable eyes, and for a moment I couldn't say anything.

"Tomorrow night, the family is hosting a medical showcase on the south side." Vincenzo handed me a tissue, then gave his orders without even asking what I thought. "You don't need to go. Lyla just started as our medical advisor. She can take some of the load off you."

There it was again. "Take some of the load off you."

When Lyla first took the job, he'd talked me into handing over the encryption keys to my lab data. "I don't want you working this hard. Let Lyla handle the management side. Let her take some of the load off you."

His thumb brushed my cheek, and his voice was sweet and coaxing. I couldn't resist.

Later, when Lyla botched a partnership on a Swiss project, he sighed and asked me to step in and smooth it over. "Lyla just got back. She doesn't know how things work yet. If this gets fixed, she can take the project negotiations off your hands from now on."

I couldn't bear to watch him wear himself out over it, his eyes red from several sleepless nights. I pressed my lips together and nodded.

But this time, I wasn't going to go along with it.

"I run the lab," I said, looking him in the eye. "I should be there."

Vincenzo stopped. He came over and pulled my slipping cardigan closed at the collar to keep out the cold.

"There'll be too many people, too many eyes. The family's young recruits and old guard will all be there." His voice dropped. "Don't you want a baby? Stay home and rest."

I let out a short, humorless laugh.

After five years of marriage, I'd put myself through hell trying to get my body ready for a baby, but he always made sure to use protection. I'd told myself the timing just wasn't right. I never imagined he simply didn't want a child with me.

He probably just didn't want me there stealing Lyla's spotlight in front of the Romano family.

"Fine." I smiled calmly and didn't argue anymore.

Vincenzo's shoulders relaxed a little, and something I couldn't read flickered in his eyes.

Maybe it was relief.

Maybe it was guilt.

Maybe it was regret.

It lasted only a second. Then his calm mask returned, and he turned toward the liquor cabinet. The hem of his coat brushed the table, knocking the silver case he never let out of his sight onto the floor.

The case hit the rug, and its lid popped open. An antique pocket watch rolled to my feet.

Vincenzo had told me it belonged to a close friend who'd died in a shootout. That was why nobody was allowed to touch it.

But now the watch he rubbed between his fingers day and night was lying at my feet.

Curiosity got the better of me. I bent down and picked it up.

The fall had knocked the cover partway open, revealing an engraving inside. It wasn't his friend's name.

Just one line, carved in ornate Latin script.

"To Vincenzo. We promised we'd be best friends for life. Yours, Lyla."

I went rigid.

So the so-called keepsake he treasured, the one he wouldn't even let me touch, was nothing but a friend-zone line Lyla had tossed him when she turned him down.

He slept with it under his pillow and carried it with him all day. If I so much as reached for it, his expression darkened.

Without a word, I closed the cover and put the watch back in its case.

In that moment, whatever hope I still had for Vincenzo died for good.