When the Don Wept for Her
Chapter 4
The jokes grew more vulgar with each passing minute. Every burst of laughter stripped away another layer of decency from the room.
Someone suggested sending for sex toys. Another volunteered to be the timekeeper.
Laughter echoed through the hall.
I closed my eyes and wished I could sink into the ground and disappear.
My phone buzzed again. I looked down at the screen.
Dante: [I am only tying up some loose ends.]
Dante: [You are still my wife.]
Dante: [We are only talking. It does not mean anything.]
Dante: [Our marriage is not shaken by this.]
I stared at the screen until the words blurred. Even as he sent that message, Dante and Viviana whispered close together, and her hand rested on his chest.
He could not acknowledge me as his wife in public, yet he expected me to believe this nonsense.
I did not reply. I only drank, glass after glass.
The bourbon burned like fire, and at least it numbed the pain in my chest.
I drank until nausea overtook me, then stumbled into the restroom. I barely made it in time to empty my stomach into the sink.
No one followed. No one checked on me.
When I returned to the banquet hall, the doors were half open and the music had changed to something hot and sleazy.
I stepped inside and found a crowd gathered in a circle in the middle of the hall.
Dante stood in the center, one hand on Viviana’s shoulder. One strap of her dress had slipped off, and it exposed her pale shoulder and delicate collarbone.
“Oh, stop it,” she protested in a weak voice, although her face held a coy smile that begged for more teasing.
The crowd around them chanted with excitement.
“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!”
My mind went blank. Then someone noticed me at the door.
“Hey, Tessa is back.”
Dante dropped his hand from Viviana’s shoulder and stepped back at once, putting distance between them.
If I had arrived five seconds earlier, he might have fooled me. His face still held the smudge of her lipstick. Her neck still showed the flush from his fingers.
He took a step toward me.
“We were only playing a drinking game,” he said quickly. “They egged us on. It was a penalty for losing.”
“A drinking game?” I repeated softly. “A penalty?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Since you all love drinking so much.”
I grabbed the nearest bottle of champagne and shook it hard.
Dante’s eyes widened. “Tessa, do not—”
I pressed my thumb against the cork and popped it open with a loud crack. Champagne exploded like a fountain and sprayed everyone in the hall.
Screams erupted at once.
“Tessa. Are you insane?”
“My watch. I just got it yesterday.”
“My hair. My makeup.”
Some cursed. Others tried to grab the bottle from my hand, and I dodged them all.
When I finished, everyone stood drenched and stared at me in disbelief.
Viviana stood in the center of the crowd, soaked and shivering.
“Dante,” she shrieked. “Do something. What is wrong with her?”
Dante’s expression changed at once. The warmth, the confusion, and the tipsy softness vanished.
“Are you out of your mind?” he snapped.
“Yes,” I said. “I am.”
I went insane the night I agreed to marry him.
A woman nearby grabbed my wrist and gasped.
“Wait, look. She is wearing a wedding ring.”
The murmurs picked up around me.
“She has some nerve. She is married and still throwing tantrums over her ex.”
“She is only an ex‑girlfriend acting like Dante belongs to her.”
“Someone go get her husband. Let him see how obsessed his wife is with her ex.”
Someone moved to shove me, ready to teach me a lesson. Dante stepped between us.
“Enough. Have we not embarrassed ourselves enough tonight? Do not let the whole city think the mafia is full of lunatics.”
He did not look at me. He took off his jacket and draped it over Viviana’s shoulders. Then he took her hand and led her toward the door.
“The Fumagalli family has a luxury boutique nearby. Whatever you want, it is on me.”
The crowd cheered. “The Don is too generous!”
The hall emptied like a receding tide and left only overturned chairs, spilled wine, and me standing in the wreckage.
After everyone left, the doors opened again. A driver in a black uniform stood in the doorway and bowed slightly.
“Donna, the Don sent me to take you home.”
I walked past him without a word. “No need.”
That place did not deserve to be called home anymore.
I hailed a taxi in the cold night air. When the driver asked for an address, I gave him the location of that luxury boutique.
I already knew what I would find there. I was right.
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