Nine Times His Donna, Never Again

I married the same Mafia Don nine times.

And nine times, he divorced me for the woman he believed had saved his life.

Taviano Ruscello ruled one of New York's most feared Mafia families. Yet whenever Isolde Carenza returned, his own Donna had to step aside.

"She risked her life for me, Vespera. I won't let anyone call her a homewrecker."

Nine weddings. Nine divorces.

Every time Isolde came home, Taviano took off my ring and made room for her.

Until this time, when Isolde returned again, I didn't cry. I didn't ask him to choose me.

I placed the divorce papers on his desk myself.

As usual, Taviano promised we'd remarry in a month.

He had no idea I'd already made plans to leave him for good.

...

"Isolde's back in New York. We should get divorced."

I placed the papers on Taviano's desk, my signature already on the last page.

My husband looked up, surprised. But the expression lasted barely a second before he picked up his pen.

Nine marriages. Nine divorces.

By now, Taviano Ruscello could probably sign these papers blindfolded.

"She'll be gone in a month," he said, handing them back. "We'll remarry on the thirteenth."

"Okay."

His pen stopped moving.

"That's it?"

"What else is there to say?"

Taviano studied me for a moment, then returned to his paperwork.

I went upstairs to finish packing.

As Don of the Ruscello Family, Taviano controlled half of New York's underworld. Men who'd killed without hesitation were terrified of crossing him.

Yet he had never once missed a date he'd set for our remarriage.

Each time Isolde left, he put the family ring back on my finger and restored my title as Donna.

Then she'd return, and he'd take it all away again.

The arrangement suited him perfectly. He could have Isolde without anyone accusing her of sleeping with a married man.

And I got to be the pathetic woman who kept taking him back.

I was folding a dress when Taviano appeared in the doorway.

He watched me check the suitcase pockets, his expression growing strange.

The last time I'd packed in this room, I'd smashed the full-length mirror with a marble vase. A shard of glass had buried itself in his shoulder when he tried to stop me.

The time before that, I'd set our bedsheets on fire. The flames had nearly spread through the entire east wing before his guards put them out.

Once, I'd even locked myself inside the family chapel and refused to come out until he agreed to cancel the divorce.

Taviano had threatened to break down the door.

I'd told him to go ahead.

Now I was carefully wrapping my shoes in tissue paper.

Apparently, that was harder for him to understand.

"You're taking this surprisingly well."

"I've had practice."

He frowned.

"Look, if it's the house you're upset about, I can stay somewhere else this time."

I zipped the suitcase shut.

"No need. I'm staying with Mirelle."

His expression darkened instantly.

"My sister?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely not."

I straightened.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about." He stepped into the room. "Are you planning to drag Mirelle into this again? Get her worked up until the two of you decide to teach Isolde another lesson?"

I stared at him.

During our fifth divorce, Mirelle had caught Isolde wearing my wedding necklace at a family party.

She'd ripped it from Isolde's neck before I could stop her.

Taviano had blamed me for encouraging his sister.

He'd made me apologize to Isolde in front of half the Family.

"Mirelle invited me," I said. "That's all."

"Then why can't you stay somewhere else?"

"Because she's my friend."

"She's my sister, Vespera."

"And I'm not asking her to choose sides."

He gave a sharp laugh.

"That's what you said last time."

I picked up my suitcase.

"I won't go near Isolde. Happy?"

He didn't move.

"Isolde nearly died saving my life. The least I can do is make sure she's treated with respect."

There it was again.

That debt he never let anyone forget.

I could still remember the alley where Taviano had been shot. The pavement slick with rain, the smell of gunpowder, the terrible weight of his body against mine.

And the blood. So much blood.

I tightened my grip on the handle.

"Then make sure nobody bothers her."

For a moment, Taviano looked almost disappointed.

He was used to me arguing whenever he brought up Isolde's sacrifice.

Usually, I'd demand to know why gratitude meant giving her everything that belonged to me.

Today, I couldn't even be bothered.

"You're not going to pull that stunt at the office again, are you?" he asked suddenly.