Chapter 2

"If barking is so harmless, show us how it's done."

I'd grown up in my grandfather's house studying calligraphy: invitations, family records, memorial cards. I knew Gina's handwriting from the notes she sent Vincent. The words on that slip were hers.

Gina flushed and turned to him, her eyes filling. "Vinnie, how can she disrespect me like this..."

Vincent threw his wine in my face.

Vincent yanked Gina into his arms, shielding her, and glared at me with open contempt. Across the room, two of his soldiers stopped talking. One of them set his drink down on the bar very carefully, like the sound might draw attention to him.

"Serafina, enough! You won't do this, you won't do that, all you're good for is bullying a young woman. There's a limit to how unreasonable you can be!"

"You ink memorial cards part-time for old widows in Bensonhurst. With what they pay you, I'd be embarrassed to let you buy the gas for my car."

"You live the life you live because of me. Where do you get the nerve to stick your nose in my business?"

A sneer curled across his lips.

"Gina works for this crew. She keeps my books and carries my messages. If I want to kiss her for a game, I will."

"And what have you contributed? Not a cent toward the house or the wedding. You just expected to marry into all of this."

"Take the money and sit quietly. If it's not enough, I'll give you more. But cause one more scene and I'll cancel tomorrow's ceremony myself."

Wine stung my eyes. I wiped it from my face before the itching could spread, pressing my thumb against the callus on my middle finger.

So objecting to the man I was about to marry kissing another woman was causing a scene.

And five years of devotion, of standing beside him while he built everything from nothing, amounted to getting something for nothing.

But Vincent didn't know.

My grandfather had arranged a wedding gift months ago: property, shares, and capital for our future. His lawyers were finalizing the transfers. I'd planned to tell Vincent after the ceremony.

He knew my surname. He had never asked which branch of the Falcone family I belonged to, and I'd never corrected his assumptions.

Now it was clear he didn't deserve it.

"Well, that works out perfectly. I was thinking the same thing."

I said it coldly, turned, grabbed my coat, and walked toward the door.

The moment I reached the front door, his voice came from behind me.

"Hold on!"

Vincent came down the marble staircase, smiling as though he already knew I would stay.

"That Canada Goose you're wearing cost me two grand. Leave it here."

"If you've got the guts to walk out, then don't take my things with you. Can't you afford your own clothes?"

"Oh, and don't forget to leave every card I ever gave you."

The mansion doors gaped wide open onto the long gravel drive, where his men stood smoking beside the cars. Wind laced with snow bit into the back of my neck.

It still wasn't as cold as what I felt inside.

Last winter, when the weather first turned, he'd complained that the coats I bought were cheap brands that didn't keep me warm. He'd thrown every single one of them out without asking. The next day, he'd given me the Canada Goose himself, telling me that things were better now, that the crew was finally earning, that he'd never let me freeze again.

He remembered. He wanted me cold and humiliated enough to stay.

In that moment, all I felt was regret.

Regret that I'd been so blind about who he really was.

One of the guests, an older associate who ran a trucking line under Vincent's protection, thought things had gone too far and tried to intervene. "Come on, Vinnie. It's below zero out there. She's barely wearing anything underneath. Without that coat, she'll freeze."

"It's supposed to be a happy occasion. Don't let it end like this. Just swallow your pride and make up with your wife. There's no shame in that."

Vincent clearly didn't see it that way.

He smiled.

"What wife? We haven't even had the ceremony. I spoiled her, and now she thinks she can threaten to leave whenever she likes."

"Apologize, promise to get along with Gina, and I'll forgive you. Tomorrow goes ahead. You still get to be Mrs. Russo."

Gina nestled against his side and settled in, beaming.

"He's right, Fina. You wanted a rich husband. Why act surprised that he has options?"