Chapter 1

On the night of our wedding celebration, Vincent's crew and their wives crowded into the bridal suite of his new Long Island mansion for a few drunken party games.

Our civil ceremony was booked for the next morning. Vincent had insisted we celebrate first and arrange the church wedding later.

The very first round required the bride and groom to kiss for three minutes.

But Vincent Russo, the man I was supposed to marry, grabbed his bookkeeper and kissed her without a second's hesitation.

They kept going until the timer rang. When they finally pulled apart, Vincent wiped her mouth with his thumb.

The smiles around the room froze. Glasses of grappa stopped halfway to mouths. Every pair of eyes shifted to me, stiff with awkwardness.

Gina Marchetti leaned against him. Neither of them looked embarrassed.

"Gina gets shy about these things. I was giving her a little practice for her own wedding someday."

He tossed a rubber-banded stack of cash onto the table in front of me, the way he'd pay off a dock foreman. Twenty thousand dollars.

"That enough? Take the money and settle down. Don't act like you've been so terribly wronged."

"All I did was change partners for a game. I threw you a wedding party in front of my whole crew. You should be grateful."

Gina nestled into his arms, coy and blushing, her eyes brimming with adoration.

I nodded calmly, slid my engagement ring off, and dropped it onto the pile of bills.

"Of course I'm not upset, Mr. Russo."

"You changed partners for a game. I can change mine before the ceremony."

……

Silence.

Near the door, one of Vincent's men stopped chewing his gum.

Vincent hurled the crystal ashtray against the nightstand. Glass scattered across the floor.

"Serafina Falcone, it was just a game partner swap. Do you really have to be this petty about it?"

"Fine. Here's another ten grand." He loosened his tie. "Take back what you just said and stop ruining the mood for everyone."

Like he was scolding a child who didn't know her place.

I looked at that face, the one that used to make my heart race, and felt nothing but revulsion rise in its place.

"We haven't had a ceremony or exchanged any vows. We're not married, Vincent. And now we never will be."

"Oh, and think of tonight's wedding as my gift to you, Mr. Russo. A little practice run for the real thing. No need to thank me."

The men along the wall looked at their shoes.

Gina suddenly looped her arm through mine, all smiles.

"Don't be mad, Fina. Mr. Russo was just worried I wouldn't know what to do at my own wedding someday, so he gave me a little preview."

"Tell you what. You can be the bride for the next round."

She said it as though my place had been hers to give away.

Before I could agree or refuse, Gina was already reaching into the velvet game pouch, pulling out a slip of paper, and reading it aloud.

"The bride must kneel before the groom and bark like a dog ten times, to demonstrate her absolute loyalty to her husband."

A beat of stunned silence. Then murmurs rippled through the group. Everyone in that room understood the insult.

"Didn't we agree not to put any humiliating ones in there? Who wrote that?"

"Not me..."

"Wasn't me either..."

Gina shot them an exasperated glare.

"Oh, hush. You all think it's disrespect, but maybe Fina here thinks it's a treat."

"Some women will do anything to marry into money. I couldn't. I have too much self-respect."

Her gaze locked onto mine, a taunting smile curving her lips.

"Well, Fina? You wanted to play games with Mr. Russo so badly, didn't you?"

"Go on then. Get on your knees and bark. Who knows, maybe if he's pleased enough, he'll toss you another twenty grand. Wouldn't want to miss an opportunity like that."

Vincent sat through all of it without saying a word. Gina went back to the bed and sat beside him.

My eyes drifted to the silk coverlet beneath them. I'd chosen it for our bedroom, imagining our first night there together.

Gina was sitting in the place I'd pictured for myself. Vincent had his hand on her waist.

I wondered how long they'd been laughing at me.

I pressed my thumb once against the writer's callus on my middle finger. Then I went still.

I shoved Gina's arm away, cold and deliberate, and let a razor-thin smile cross my face.

"That's modest of you, Gina. You seem to know plenty about begging for another woman's place."