After She Walked Away, The Mafia Boss Regretted It

At the Moretti family banquet, Don Cesare Moretti won a two-person package to a private island resort.

The host asked with a teasing grin, "Don Moretti, who are you taking with you?"

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to me.

The crowd began chanting my name, their voices rising with gleeful anticipation.

"Adriana! Adriana!"

My heart hammered against my ribs. I smiled at Cesare, hope blooming warm in my chest.

But Cesare didn't even glance my way. His gaze had drifted past me, settling on his secretary sitting near the front.

His voice was casual, almost indulgent. "Give it to her. The girl's been working late lately. She deserves a break."

His secretary's face went scarlet.

Those soldiers paused for just a beat—then someone shouted, "The Don is so thoughtful," and the laughter swelled again, smoothing over the moment.

My best friend Bianca leaned in, whispering through clenched teeth, "We planned to get married together on the island this year. How could he forget something like that?"

I smiled and forced back the tears. Then I reached over and straightened her collar.

"Don't worry. The plan stays. The wedding happens."

Then I called my father and said yes to the family arrangement.

I would marry the Don of the Romanov family—Cesare's biggest rival.

If Cesare didn't want to marry me, that was fine. I'd just find myself another groom.

Cesare stepped off the stage with that lazy, unhurried grace of his.

Everyone watched him quietly, their eyes trailing his every movement.

When he passed his secretary Clara's seat, he paused.

He handed her the brown envelope. The resort voucher was inside. A half-smoked cigar dangled from the corner of his mouth.

His smile held that lazy, almost indulgent warmth.

"Take it," he said.

Clara's face lit up. Her pretty mouth curved into something surprised and delighted.

She tried to look modest, but her hands were already reaching for the envelope, clutching it to her chest like he'd handed her a crown.

She stood up immediately. Her voice carried through the room, bright and teasing.

"Thank you, Don Moretti! You're always thinking of me—I don't even know how to thank you!"

She gave him an exaggerated, playful bow that made a few people chuckle.

Then she straightened up, paused for effect, and shot him a sly look that seemed innocent on the surface but carried something sharper underneath.

"But I don't really have anyone to go with," she said. "Why don't you come with me?"

The air in the room froze for half a heartbeat, and then a few people laughed in a low, knowing way.

Beside me, Bianca shot to her feet. I grabbed her wrist and yanked her back down into her seat, then forced an easy smile onto my face.

"Easy." I comforted her. "Don't be so impulsive. Cesare won't say yes."

And then I heard Cesare's reply, warm and full of amusement.

"Depends on your work performance," he said.

I froze, wondering if I had