Chapter 1

My fiancé, New York Mafia don Dario Valcieri, called his childhood friend a classic worth watching over and over. Me? I was a commercial he could skip.

That evening, over dinner at the mountain resort, everyone was joking about which TV show each of us would be.

He looked at Vivian and smiled. “The Sopranos. A classic. You can watch it a hundred times and never want to skip an episode.”

The whole table started teasing him. “No wonder you missed your own wedding to take her to an art exhibition.”

When it was my turn, he didn't hesitate.

“A commercial. They're everywhere. Anyone can skip them, and you forget them as soon as they're over.”

I stared at him in disbelief, but he only smiled and added, “There is an upside, though. You never have to look for one. There's always another.”

“She had a fever? I was playing cards at the club. Skipped it. She had a miscarriage? I was at an exhibition with Vivian. Forgot. She kept texting for help? Too many messages. I muted her.”

He leaned back, sounding almost proud.

“And after all that? She's still right here with me.”

Everyone laughed. “So you're saying Elena's low-maintenance!”

I went cold.

For seven years, every moment I'd needed him most had been nothing more than another commercial to skip.

To the rest of the world, Dario was a man no one dared defy. Yet I could sit beside him wearing his engagement ring and still be humiliated in front of everyone.

Near the end of dinner, he handed me an envelope.

“For you.”

There was no card inside. Just a jewelry ad torn from a magazine.

I looked up and asked him what it was supposed to mean.

Marco slapped the table, laughing. Vivian laughed too, falling against Dario's chest.

“I told you Elena would get upset. Aren't you going to make it up to her?”

Dario gave me an indifferent glance.

“Why? Commercials are everywhere. Lose one, there's always another.”

He tucked a loose strand of Vivian's hair behind her ear.

Watching them, I folded the page and set it back on the table.

If I was so easy to replace, then so was the man beside me.

After dinner, they moved to the lounge to play cards.

When it was my turn to bet, Marco passed right over me, pushed his chips into the middle, and told the next player to show his cards.

I tightened my grip on my cards.

“It's not his turn. I haven't bet yet.”

Marco leaned back with a grin.

“Don't take it so seriously, Elena. You heard the Don. Nobody likes commercials. We just skipped you.”

They were all trusted men in the family who'd grown up with Dario. They knew when to bow their heads, and when putting someone else down would please him.

Vivian tugged at Dario's sleeve.

“Stop it, you guys. Look at Elena's face.”

Dario tossed his cards onto the table, his voice turning cold.

“Enough.”

The laughter died at once.

I started to stand, but he caught my wrist.

“They're drunk. Do you have to take everything they say personally?”

“We're here to relax. Don't make a scene. Sit down.”

So I was supposed to spare them embarrassment while they humiliated me?

I threw my cards onto the table, pulled my hand free, and walked out.

Dario called my name. I didn't turn around.

After collecting my suitcase from my room, I caught the resort shuttle to the town at the foot of the mountain. I planned to find a ride back to New York from there.

But the downpour grew heavier. We'd barely left when the driver got word of a landslide on the road ahead. We had to turn back.

I got off the shuttle and dragged my suitcase through the rain. By the time I reached my room, my clothes were soaked.

I texted Elliot, the friend I'd grown up with, and asked him to come get me. Then I went into the bathroom.

The warm water had barely begun to ease the chill when I heard my room door unlock.

“Dario, looks like she really didn't leave.”

“Wasn't that her on the shuttle?”

The glass bathroom door swung open.

I snatched a towel from the rack and wrapped it around myself, my mind going blank.

Dario stood in front, turning the key card between his fingers. Vivian and the men crowded behind him.

He raised an eyebrow at them over his shoulder.

“See? Told you. She's always here. Like she'd actually leave.”

Someone instinctively looked away. Dario didn't move back. Instead, he planted a hand against the door, holding it open.

Vivian gasped and covered her eyes, still looking at me through her fingers.

“Oh my God, she's showering. Dario, why would you just open the door?”

Enzo glanced at Dario. Seeing that he was still smiling, he let out a whistle.

“You always keep yourself covered up. Didn't know you had a body like that.”

“Now that's an ad I'd watch.”

Laughter drifted in from the doorway.

I clutched the towel, humiliation burning through me.

“Get out.”

I pushed at the door, but Dario held it in place.

“Did you hear me? Get out!”

He looked at me with the same careless smile.

“Why are you so worked up? You've got a towel on.”

“I was just showing them you were still here. Nobody did anything to you.”

I looked up at him, shaking uncontrollably.

Then he added, “It's just a commercial. Everyone forgets it afterward. Why do you care?”

Seven years together, and in his eyes, I didn't even deserve to close a door.