Five Years After Breaking Up, the Don Begged Me Back

My ex-boyfriend, the Don's heir, was getting married today.

In the grand reception hall, the bride, Elena, moved through the crowd with a champagne flute in hand, toasting the bosses and captains who'd flown in from across the island.

In the dressing room, Luca had me pinned against the gown the bride had just changed out of, fucking me hard.

The mirror gave me back a stranger, hair tangled, not a stitch of clothing left on me, my neck covered in marks he'd left like a signature.

The camera on the side table blinked red.

Three knocks at the door. Luca stood up, straightened the white rose boutonniere on his lapel, picked up the black earpiece from the table and pressed it in.

He tossed it at me without looking.

"One night. Half a million euros. Anna, you're even pricier than I remembered."

I watched his back as he walked out, and picked up the check with shaking hands.

Rosa, don't be scared. Mama's got the money to save you.

I got dressed and dragged my aching body out of the wedding venue.

Passing through the colonnade, I caught a glimpse through the window of the reception hall, the whole spectacle still in full swing.

The floor was marble. The estate had stood since the seventeenth century.

The alliance between two of Sicily's great families had dominated the Palermo headlines since yesterday morning.

The beautiful bride on the arm of the handsome groom, raising glasses to the gathered bosses. They looked like they belonged together.

The Luca who'd once proposed to me with a copper button he'd found at the docks, and that same man had just picked up the ancestral Morello signet ring and slid it onto his real bride's finger.

I'd seen that ring once. When he was nineteen, he'd dug it out of his father's belongings box, held it in his palm, stared at it for a long time, then put it back. He said when he got married, he'd put it on my hand himself.

I touched my ring finger. I could still feel the cold of that old copper button.

I'd let myself dream about marrying Luca once.

No white dress, no family crest ring, no armed men lining the aisle. Just the two of us and a few people who actually mattered.

I tightened my grip on the check in my pocket.

Doesn't matter. I got what I came for.

The cash exchange ran out of a warehouse at the far end of the docks, behind two iron gates, each manned and watching.

I got there just before the broker closed up, practically running.

"Miss Costello, we can't process this check. You'll need to verify it with whoever issued it."

"What? That's impossible."

I stared at the check in my hands. Luca's signature was right there, plain as day.

I pressed both palms flat on the grimy desk and looked the broker dead in the eye.

"Can you try again? Please. I need that