I Heard His Mind: The Don's Regret

I was naked in the bed of the most dangerous Capo in New York when I heard his mind whisper the name of the woman he actually wanted. It wasn't me. My husband, Dante, moved over me with cold precision, but his thoughts were screaming for Sofia, a soldier's widow he claimed to protect out of "honor." I possess a secret that makes me a freak: I can hear the thoughts of men. And Dante’s mind was a torture chamber of devotion to another woman. I found the deed to a luxury penthouse he bought for her. I watched her parade around in a dress he bought for me, hearing her mental triumph as she thought about rubbing her scent all over it. Refusing to be a placeholder in my own marriage, I left my wedding ring on his desk and fled to Las Vegas to build my own empire. I thought I had escaped. Until the divorce papers arrived in the mail, signed by him. I stood in my shop, heartbroken, believing he had finally discarded me to be with his true love. But then the phone rang. "Dante didn't sign those papers, Elena. He’s in the ICU." My blood ran cold. "He took two bullets to the chest. He started a war to distract the enemy from finding you." He hadn't chosen her. He was dying for me. I tore up the papers and booked a private jet. If the Grim Reaper wanted my husband, he would have to get through me first.

Chapters

Chapter 5

Three days of silence passed before Dante came home with a box.

It was a large, black velvet box with the logo of a French designer emblazoned in gold foil.

He placed it on the bed.

I was sitting by the window, staring blindly at a book I hadn't turned the page of in an hour. My leg was still bandaged, a constant throb reminding me of the kitchen incident.

We hadn't spoken since then.

He had taken to the guest room. Or maybe he didn't sleep here at all. I had stopped checking.

"For you," he said.

His voice was devoid of emotion. It was a transactional offering. A cold peace treaty.

I looked at the box. "What is it?"

"A dress," he replied. "For the Gala on Saturday."

The Outfit's annual charity gala. The night where murderers played at being philanthropists.

"I'm not going," I said.

"You are," Dante said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You are the Capo's wife. You will be by my side."

She has to go. It keeps the rumors at bay.

Rumors that his marriage was failing. Rumors that he was sleeping with Sofia.

I stood up, limping slightly, and walked to the bed.

I opened the box.

The dress was stunning. Emerald green silk, backless, with a slit that would show off my good leg. It was exactly my size. It was exactly my style.

I reached out to touch the fabric.

And then I smelled it.

Vanilla. Cheap, cloying vanilla.

My hand froze mid-air. I leaned closer, inhaling sharply. It wasn't just on the fabric. It was embedded in the fibers.

Someone had worn this. Someone had sprayed perfume on her neck while wearing this dress.

Sofia.

The image flashed in my mind. Sofia, twirling in front of a mirror. Dante watching her.

Does it fit?

Like a glove, Dante. Do you like it?

Take it off. It's for Elena.

He had let her try it on. He had bought a dress for his wife and let his mistress model it first. I was getting sloppy seconds. I was wearing the skin she had shed.

Nausea rose in my throat, violent and acidic. I slammed the lid of the box shut.

"Did she look good in it?" I asked.

My voice was dead calm.

Dante stiffened. "What?"

"Sofia," I said, looking up at him. "Did she look good in my dress?"

Dante's eyes shifted. A microscopic movement. But I saw it.

How does she know?

"She was at the boutique," Dante said, his voice tight. "She helped me pick it out. She held it up to check the length."

"Liar," I whispered.

"I am not lying!" Dante snapped. "Why are you so obsessed with her?"

"Because you smell like her!" I screamed. "My dress smells like her! My house smells like her! My entire life reeks of her!"

I grabbed the box and shoved it off the bed. It hit the floor with a heavy thud.

"I am not wearing that," I said. "And I am not going to your gala."

Dante stepped forward, his face dark with fury. "You will wear it," he snarled. "And you will smile. And you will pretend to be a dutiful wife. Or so help me God, Elena..."

"Or what?" I challenged him. "You'll kill me? Go ahead. It would be a mercy."

Dante stared at me. His chest heaved. He looked like he wanted to shake me. Or kiss me. Or strangle me.

I just want peace. Why can't she just give me peace?

"If you want peace," I said, answering his unspoken thought, "then let me go."

Dante froze. "What?"

"An annulment," I said. "Let me go. You can have Sofia. You can have the penthouse. You can have the peace."

Dante's face went blank. Cold. The mask was back.

"No," he said.

"Why?"

"Because you are mine," he said. "Till death."

He turned and walked out of the room. He didn't slam the door. He closed it softly. Like he was closing a casket.

I stood there, staring at the closed door. He wouldn't let me go. He would keep me here, tormented and humiliated, until I withered away.

I looked down at the dress box on the floor.

I wasn't going to wither.

I walked to the closet and pulled out a suitcase. I didn't pack clothes. I packed cash. I packed my passport.

I packed the small revolver my father had given me on my eighteenth birthday.

I wasn't going to the Gala. I was going to the one place where the devil couldn't find me. Or so I hoped.

I pulled out my phone and texted Gianna.

Tonight. The train station. 1 AM.

The reply came ten seconds later.

I'm in.

I looked at the wedding ring on my finger. The diamond was huge, flawless, and cold. I pulled it off.

I placed it on the nightstand, right next to the vanilla-scented dress.

"Till death," I whispered to the empty room.

I grabbed my bag.

"I choose life."

Continue to next part

I was guiding the blade through a slab of A5 Wagyu for our seven-year anniversary when a burner phone vibrated against my knee. It was a photo of a manicured hand resting on the tuxedo I had bought for Dante three weeks ago. On the finger sat a massive diamond ring. The caption read: Mrs. Isabella Gallo. Finally legal. For seven years, I wasn't just his lover. I was the architect of his legitimacy, the woman who wrote the code that cleaned his dirty money. Yet, while I was here cooking his favorite steak, he had married a mob princess to secure her father's territory. When Dante walked in smelling of expensive scotch and another woman's perfume, he didn't apologize. "It's just politics," he said, loosening his tie. "You keep your allowance, your position. You just stay in the shadows a little longer." He looked at me like I was a piece of high-end furniture. When I told him I was leaving, his face darkened. "You can't resign from the Mafia, Seraphina," he sneered, blocking the door. "If you leave, I will burn everything you have." He truly believed he was the King on the chessboard. He forgot that I was the one who built the board. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I simply walked out, opened my encrypted laptop, and dialed the number of the one man Dante feared most. "I'm cashing out," I said. "And I'm bringing the entire Gallo empire with me."

Mafia Modern Romance

8.1

He Faked Amnesia To Break Our Vows

8.1

I was sealing our wedding invitations with crimson wax when I heard my fiancé through the slightly ajar study door. Ethan wasn't reciting the poetry he’d written for me over the last seven years. He was outlining the logistics of his betrayal. "If I fake amnesia after the 'accident' tonight, I can delay the wedding without the family stopping the merger," Ethan laughed, ice clinking in his glass. "And Ava? The Canary?" his friend asked. "Ava is property. You maintain property; you don't have fun with it. While she plays nurse, I get a medical exemption to sleep with Chloe." My world shattered. I fled into the rainy night, blinded by tears, until headlights turned my world upside down. I woke up in the wreckage, my arm shattered, tasting blood. Ethan arrived moments later. But he didn't run to me. He stepped right over my bleeding body to comfort Chloe, who had a minor scratch on her forehead. "I've got you, baby," he cooed to his mistress, looking at me with nothing but cold annoyance. "Don't worry about her. She's tough." He left me in the street. By the next morning, the narrative was set: The tragic Don had lost his memory of his fiancée, but miraculously remembered his 'true love,' Chloe. He evicted me from our penthouse while I was still in surgery. He thought he had won. He thought the Canary would just die in the cold. He forgot one thing. I knew where he hid the bodies—literally. I walked into his staged public proposal, slammed my ring on the table, and left a note under it. *I remember everything. And so do you.* Then I boarded a plane with his secret incriminating journal in my bag. The empire was about to burn.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.1

Inked by the Mafia King

8.1

Sloane Avery built her life on control — a rising tattoo artist in Austin, a stable boyfriend, a five-year plan pinned to her apartment wall. Then she catches her boyfriend cheating at their anniversary dinner, and the night spirals into the orbit of Rhett Caraveo — inked, magnetic, and the heir to a cartel empire she didn't know existed. Rhett doesn't ask permission. He doesn't negotiate. When he decides Sloane belongs in his world, he simply rearranges reality until she has nowhere else to go. But Sloane isn't the kind of woman who breaks — she's the kind who bends the cage until it fits her shape. As her ex-boyfriend becomes dangerously desperate to win her back and a rival family threatens everything Rhett has built, Sloane discovers that the most dangerous man in Texas has one weakness: her. The question isn't whether she'll survive his world. It's whether she'll want to leave it.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.1

La viuda de mi amigo

8.1

Florencia esta huyendo de un pasado que la destrozo, pero en especial de Manuel un narcotraficante que esta obsesionado con ella, sin saber que se encontraría con el amor de su vida a mitad de camino; Leonardo escapa de un matrimonio arreglado por sus padres, ya que no tienen la fuerza para imponerse, hasta que la ve, su hada como la llama, ambos viven un amor verdadero y único, jurándose amor eterno, sin tener en cuenta que el ser humano tienen fecha de caducidad. capos narcos, muerte, un bebé, una promesa, una suplica, un buen amigo y muchas verdades que saldrán a la luz. EL AMOR, DESPUÉS DEL AMOR ¿existe?

Action Mafia Romance

9.6

Pampered By The Rival Mafia Boss

9.6

Ten years ago, I saved the life of New York’s most dangerous mob boss with a sewing kit. I gave Ethan Reed my youth, my loyalty, and my heart. But the moment his ex-girlfriend Chloe returned, I became disposable. It didn't matter that she had abandoned him. It didn't matter that she poisoned me, killing the unborn child Ethan didn't even know we had. When Chloe needed a kidney transplant due to her drug abuse, Ethan didn't protect me. He strapped me to a gurney. "It's just one kidney, Ava. You owe me." He harvested my organ to save the woman who murdered his heir. And when he was done, he decided I was a loose end. He dragged me to the edge of a bridge in the pouring rain. "This is how it ends," he said, his eyes devoid of love. "A tragic suicide." He pushed me into the freezing water, watching me drown to secure his happy ending. He thought I was dead. He thought the canary had sung its last song. But he forgot one thing. I was the chemist who built his empire. When his greatest rival pulled me out of the river, I didn't pray for salvation. I prayed for revenge. Three months later, I walked into his charity gala on the arm of his enemy, wearing a white suit and a smile sharp enough to cut glass. Ethan dropped to his knees when he saw me. But I wasn't there to forgive him. I was there to burn his house down.

Action Mafia Modern

9.1

Reborn To Ruin: The Mafia Queen's Revenge

9.1

I spent twenty-one years trying to be the perfect Mafia Princess, treating my illegitimate sister, Mia, with nothing but grace. That kindness is exactly what got me killed. My husband, Luca, didn't take me on a honeymoon. He dragged me into the soundproof basement of our estate. Mia was there, too. Not to help me, but to gloat. She laughed as she admitted to poisoning our mother with arsenic, watching with glee as Luca brought a serrated knife to my chest. "You were always too soft, Sera," he sneered, carving through my skin while I begged for mercy. I died in that cold, dark room, choking on my own blood and the bitter taste of betrayal. But I didn't stay dead. I woke up gasping for air, clutching a chest that was smooth and unscarred. The calendar on my nightstand read May 12, 2018. It was five years ago. The very morning I was scheduled to sign the marriage contract that would seal my fate. I looked at the paper on the vanity. In my last life, I signed it with a trembling hand. This time, I flicked open my silver Zippo and watched the flames eat Luca's name. I didn't pack a dress. I packed a pistol and a stack of cash. I was going to Las Vegas. There was only one man dangerous enough to help me destroy the New York families. I walked into the underground fight club, locked eyes with the deadliest man in the room, and smiled. "Dante Cavallaro," I said. "I'm here to make you a King."

Action Mafia Modern

I Heard His Mind: The Don's Regret

Chapter 5

You may also like