I Heard His Mind: The Don's Regret

I was naked in the bed of the most dangerous Capo in New York when I heard his mind whisper the name of the woman he actually wanted.

It wasn't me.

My husband, Dante, moved over me with cold precision, but his thoughts were screaming for Sofia, a soldier's widow he claimed to protect out of "honor."

I possess a secret that makes me a freak: I can hear the thoughts of men.

And Dante’s mind was a torture chamber of devotion to another woman.

I found the deed to a luxury penthouse he bought for her.

I watched her parade around in a dress he bought for me, hearing her mental triumph as she thought about rubbing her scent all over it.

Refusing to be a placeholder in my own marriage, I left my wedding ring on his desk and fled to Las Vegas to build my own empire.

I thought I had escaped.

Until the divorce papers arrived in the mail, signed by him.

I stood in my shop, heartbroken, believing he had finally discarded me to be with his true love.

But then the phone rang.

"Dante didn't sign those papers, Elena. He’s in the ICU."

My blood ran cold.

"He took two bullets to the chest. He started a war to distract the enemy from finding you."

He hadn't chosen her. He was dying for me.

I tore up the papers and booked a private jet.

If the Grim Reaper wanted my husband, he would have to get through me first.

Chapter 1

I was naked in the bed of the most dangerous Capo in New York when I heard his mind whisper the name of the woman he actually wanted, and it wasn't me.

The realization hit me harder than the physical thrust of his hips against mine.

Dante Cavallaro, known to the underworld as The Silencer, moved over me with the cold precision of a machine.

His body was a weapon I was bound to by law and blood, a wall of muscle and scars that the Vitiello family had sold me to in exchange for a truce.

He gripped my wrists, pinning them to the silk sheets above my head.

His eyes were closed.

That was the only mercy he granted me.

If he had opened them, he would have seen the tears leaking from the corners of mine.

But he didn't look.

He just took.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the sensation of his skin on mine, but I couldn't block out the voice.

The curse.

The ability that had made me a pariah in my own father's house and a freak to anyone who got too close.

I could hear the thoughts of men.

Not all of them, and not always clearly. But in moments of high adrenaline, or lust, or violence, their minds cracked open like eggshells, spilling their secrets.

Sofia.

The name echoed in my head, projected from his.

I should have been there earlier.