Chapter 4

Gemma's scream tore across the courtyard.

"If Miss Adriana wants me gone that badly, then fine. I'll disappear for good. I'll die right here, and then none of you will ever have to look at me again!"

Rocco went still.

His throat worked once before his fingers rose to his collar.

Then he looked at me.

"Adriana, have you lost all sense of mercy? You're really going to push a living woman toward death over something that belonged to someone who's already gone?"

My hand moved before he could finish.

The first slap snapped his face to the side.

The second landed just as hard.

Silence fell.

I stared at him, my palm burning.

"Rocco, insult me all you want."

My voice shook, but I didn't lower it.

"But if you ever speak about my mother like that again, I promise you'll regret it."

He stared at me, stunned.

I didn't wait for an answer.

I gathered the last broken pieces of the pendant into my palm and walked away.

Days passed.

Soon, the night of Don Vittorio's annual Family feast arrived.

Rocco came to collect me himself that morning.

A black sedan waited at the curb, one of his soldiers behind the wheel.

I had no desire to go anywhere with him, but Don Vittorio had personally invited the Valente Family. Whatever had happened between Rocco and me, our two bloodlines still had decades of business, favors, and blood debts tying them together.

Refusing the old Don's invitation would turn a private fracture into a public insult.

So I went.

But the moment I opened the rear door, I stopped.

Gemma was already inside.

She sat comfortably against the leather, nibbling at a biscotti as though she belonged there.

Then I saw what lay beneath the heel of her shoe.

A small silver medal.

My breath caught.

Years ago, before Rocco survived an assassination attempt, I had gone alone to the monastery my mother once visited and asked an old priest to bless it for him.

I'd carried it back myself and fastened it around Rocco's neck.

Now it lay on the floor of his car, half crushed beneath Gemma's heel.

Pain went through my chest so sharply that for a moment I couldn't speak.

I looked at Rocco.

Guilt crossed his face.

Only for a second.

Then it was gone.

"Gemma's never attended a proper Family gathering," he said. "I thought it was time she understood how these things work."

I said nothing.

Rocco continued, mistaking my silence for permission.

"There may be smaller occasions in the future when you're overseas or unavailable. She can accompany me when necessary."

I looked at him.

"So that's what she is now?"

His brows tightened.

"Adriana, don't start."

"It's your Family's feast."

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat.

"Bring whoever you want."

Relief visibly loosened his shoulders.

"I knew you'd understand."

Then he added, almost casually, "If my grandfather asks why she's here, just say she came as your companion. It'll save unnecessary questions."

I stared at him.

"No."

Rocco frowned.

"What?"

"I won't lie to Don Vittorio for you."

His expression hardened.

"Adriana."

"There's nothing between us anymore, Rocco. That means I no longer have to clean up your messes."

His jaw tightened.

"You're angry. I understand that. But there are limits. Don't forget whose house you're walking into tonight."

Strangely, his warning didn't hurt.

Nothing did anymore.

I was simply tired.

"I haven't forgotten anything."

I met his eyes.

"You're the one who seems to have forgotten that the moment you walked out of our alliance feast, you ended whatever was left between us."

Then I looked past him at Gemma.

She had lowered her eyes, but I could still see the satisfaction she was trying to hide.

"Congratulations, Miss Russo."

Her gaze lifted.

"From today on, Rocco is yours."

Rocco's face changed.

"Adriana."

I stepped away from the car.

"Are you serious?"

This time, I looked straight at him.

"You're asking me that now?"

My voice rose.

"You gave another woman my ring. My gown. My mother's pendant. You abandoned me in front of two Families to chase after her."

I laughed once, without humor.

"And now you want to know whether I'm serious?"

"You're the one who betrayed me first, Rocco."

Before he could answer, a black Maybach glided to a stop beside us.

The rear window lowered.

"Adriana."

A man's voice came from inside.

Calm.

Cold.

The kind of voice that didn't need to be raised for men to listen.

"Get in."

I turned.

Lorenzo Moretti sat in the back seat.

I didn't hesitate.

I opened the door and got in.

The moment it shut behind me, Lorenzo leaned slightly closer.

A familiar smile touched his mouth.

"Cara mia, you end things with Falcone in the street and climb straight into my car."

His gaze moved over my face.

"If you accept the offer I've been making you for years after this, I'm going to start believing you've secretly wanted me all along."

Despite everything, I almost laughed.

"Lorenzo, don't flatter yourself."

"Too late."

He settled back into the seat.

"I've been doing that since university."

Lorenzo was the son of my mother's closest friend.

Years ago, he'd followed me to the same university despite having every reason to remain in New York with his own Family.

When my engagement to Rocco became official, Lorenzo withdrew without argument.

At least outwardly.

But his offer had never truly disappeared.

If I ever changed my mind, he had once told me, I knew where to find him.

Now Lorenzo Moretti was no longer the reckless young man who followed me across an ocean.

He was underboss of the Moretti Family and widely expected to inherit the chair after his father.

I looked at him beside me.

Until that moment, I'd thought of Lorenzo as little more than a clean blade.

A way to sever the last political thread tying me to Rocco.

But as the car carried us toward Don Vittorio's estate, another thought came quietly to me.

Perhaps joining hands with Lorenzo wouldn't be the worst bargain I could make.

When Lorenzo and I entered the Falcone estate together, the room seemed to turn as one.

Conversations stopped.

Glasses paused halfway to mouths.

A few minutes earlier, I'd broken with Rocco outside.

Now I was walking into his grandfather's feast on the arm of Lorenzo Moretti.

There were no secrets in rooms like this.

Not really.

Whispers began almost immediately, moving beneath the music from one table to the next.

Then Gemma approached.

She was carrying a glass of wine.

The moment she reached us, her fingers loosened.

Crystal shattered across the marble.

"Miss Adriana!"

Her voice cracked loudly enough to turn half the room.

Tears filled her eyes.

"I know you've misunderstood what's between Rocco and me."

She clasped her hands in front of her.

"But please, let me go."

My expression didn't change.

Gemma continued, crying harder.

"I swear I'll stay away from him. If that's what it takes, you'll never see me beside him again."

By now, nearly every eye in the room had turned toward us.

Low whispers broke out around the tables.

"That's her?"

"The woman Falcone's been keeping?"

"I heard she looks enough like Adriana to pass for her sister."

Another woman lowered her voice.

"And look at her hand."

Several gazes dropped toward Gemma's fingers.

There it was.

My ring.

The diamond Rocco had once commissioned for me flashed beneath the chandeliers.

Someone gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

"Madonna. That's the ring meant for the Valente girl."

"She came home to marry him, and his mistress is wearing it instead."

The whispers spread.

And for the first time that night, Gemma's tearful expression began to stiffen.