His Stand-In, the Don’s Queen

The sixth year I gave up my family, my name, everything, to be with Marcus.

That’s when I found out I was just a stand-in for the one he could never forget.

And now, she was back.

I accepted my family’s arrangement. The marriage alliance.

The day my engagement dress arrived at the office, Marcus looked pissed. “I thought we agreed we’d get married when my career was more stable.”

I said nothing.

But when the wedding invitation arrived, Marcus finally broke.

The groom wasn't him. It was the heir to the Moretti family.

Six years with Marcus, and still no ring. But I was getting married. Just not to him.

"Mom, I'll do it. The marriage alliance."

Shock crackled in my mother's voice.

"Isabella, honey, are you sure? You were so dead set against it…"

"I've changed my mind," I cut her off, my voice so calm it felt foreign even to me. "When can we set it up?"

My mother knew me too well. She sighed. "What happened?"

I didn't answer. Last night’s scene played out in my head again—under the dim lights of an underground fight, Marcus had his arms wrapped tight around Victoria. Her head was on his chest, the two of them a painful spotlight in the crowd.

I was standing less than thirty feet away, the energy drink I’d bought for him still in my hand. He’d told me he was just going to see a friend's fight, that I didn't need to come.

Turns out his "friend" was Victoria Blair.

"Isabella?" My mother's voice pulled me back.

"Nothing happened. I just see things clearly now. The family's business is more important than my feelings."

There was a long silence on the other end. Then, "Dante, the eldest son of the Moretti family. You met him. At the charity gala three years ago…"

"I remember." I did. A tall, handsome man with deep-set eyes and the polish of a perfect gentleman. "Has he agreed to this?"

"His grandfather called yesterday." She still sounded hesitant. "Isabella, an alliance like this is for life. Once you decide…"

"I know."

Of course, I knew. But Marcus wasn't a game, either. Six years wasn't a game. And look how that turned out.

When I got back to the apartment, Marcus wasn't home. I showered and lay in bed, waiting. At two in the morning, the lock clicked.

He tiptoed into the bedroom, thinking I was asleep.

"How was the fight?" I asked in the dark.

His body went stiff. "It was good. Tommy won."

A lie. I’d seen him with Victoria all night. He hadn't watched a single round.

"Oh?" I sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. "Come here. I want to hold you."

He came over, looking uneasy. I buried my face in his chest. The scent of her perfume—jasmine, the expensive kind—clung to his shirt.

"Did you change your cologne?" I asked, looking up at him.

"What?" He wouldn't meet my eyes. "No, I