Ten Years for His Sicilian Lie

"Don't worry, Chloe. I'm done chasing him. I won't waste another second making myself smaller for his sake. I've made my decision. I'm withdrawing my application to USC and applying to Columbia instead."

Before I could lose my nerve, I opened my laptop, withdrew my USC application, and submitted the one for Columbia.

Chloe's face broke into a wide, relieved smile. She had always thought applying to USC for Dante was a waste of my potential.

But with his mediocre grades, USC was the best Dante could manage. He'd told me he didn't want us to be apart, that he hoped I would choose the same school.

I had taken it as a sign, clinging to the idea that being with him was worth any sacrifice.

Looking back, it was obvious Dante never intended for us to be together. He just didn't want to lose his most loyal follower. But now that he had Sofia, there was no reason for me to follow him down that path.

If I still chose to trail after Dante after everything I'd seen tonight, I would never respect myself again.

All I wanted now was to get as far away from him as possible.

To never see him again.

I wasn't going to follow Dante anymore.

I was going to chase my own dreams.

I hung up the phone, turning down Chloe's offer to come over and keep me company.

Unfortunately, the memories of last night kept replaying in my mind.

His strong arms wrapped around me, his warm breath on my skin, the sweet, whispered promises that made the headboard rattle all night.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to banish the images. I curled up on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest.

My mind toggled between the boy I grew up with and the cruel man he'd become.

It wasn't until dawn that I finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Dante hadn't sent a single text all night.

Once, when I had gotten drunk and disappeared for a few hours, Dante had nearly lost his mind trying to reach me.

After that, he insisted we say goodnight every single night, just so he knew I was safe. It had become our routine, a small, comforting ritual.

It was laughable how a habit built over years could be shattered in a single night. Maybe it was for the best. We were bound to drift apart eventually.

For a moment, I considered confronting him, even if it meant ruining my own reputation. But my family's business still depended, in part, on his father, the Don of the Moretti family. I couldn't act rashly.

No, the best thing to do was quietly pull away, piece by piece, until we were nothing but distant memories to each other.

The next morning, I felt myself being pulled into a warm, firm embrace. I jolted awake, my heart pounding.

The first thing I saw was the familiar curve of a sharp jawline, the faint stubble against his skin.

It was Dante.