The Mafia Boss's Wife

Seven years married. Seven years reading minds. Still ended up the biggest joke in New York's underworld.

My husband Dante—Mafia boss—put that ring on my finger thinking, "This should be Elena's."

Seven years taking bullets for him. Seven years tortured for him. All I got was his cold contempt.

Then Elena came back with a kid. I became trash.

"Victoria, you disgust me." He crushed me under his boot, had me beaten bloody—all for her.

That's when my heart died.

I didn't explain. Just watched the clock.

Three hours until the boat leaves.

Dante, we're done. Forever.

Victoria's POV

The hundredth time my husband brushed me off for one of Elena's phone calls, I didn't throw a plate.

I didn't reach for my piece either.

I just swallowed another bite of cold roast beef.

"Not bad, Victoria."

Dante sat at the head of the dining table, swirling his whiskey. He looked beat—fresh off putting down another turf war.

If I didn't have this goddamn mind-reading ability, I'd probably still be pathetically grateful for his half-assed compliment.

But I heard what he really thought:

Too salty.

If Elena were here, she'd never dump in this much seasoning.

Victoria never learned class. That trailer-trash blood shows no matter how hard she tries.

"Thanks."

My voice sounded hollow. Like someone else's.

Seven years.

Seven years of nights in the Cappello estate, him pinning me down in our bed, groaning my name while his mind screamed for HER.

To the other Family bosses, he played the devoted husband.

In his head? I was dead weight—some burden his murdered father had stuck him with.

"Listen, there's a dinner tomorrow night. All Five Families will be there."

Dante wiped his mouth and stood.

"Make sure you're ready."

I didn't look up.

He paused. His tone went cold. "Oh, and uh... Elena's back. Europe went to shit for her. She's got a kid in tow."

"Clear out the master suite in the south wing. They're moving in next week."

Elena. His precious first love.

The woman who'd grabbed every dollar she could carry and fled to Paris when the Cappello Family was surrounded, when Dante was bleeding out in some filthy alley.

And now that he'd clawed his way to the top over mountains of corpses, she'd strutted back to New York—with another man's bastard.

"Understood."

I kept my head down, cutting through the stone-cold meat on my plate.

Dante frowned. My compliance seemed to throw him off. Something mean flashed in his eyes.

What game is she playing now?

Usually just mentioning Elena sets her off like a rabid bitch.

Now she's acting all gracious? Fucking disgusting how fake she is.

Fake?

Maybe.

Because whatever love I'd once had for him had died screaming somewhere in these seven years of hell.

The antique clock on the wall kept ticking.

Seventy-two hours left.

After dinner, I retreated to the bedroom.

From a hidden compartment beneath my vanity, I pulled out an encrypted chip no bigger than my thumbnail.

On it: every arms-smuggling route Cappello ran up and down the East Coast. Every money-laundering port. Detailed records of three New York councilmen on the Family payroll.

I'd pieced it together using my ability—listening to his thoughts during countless nights when he held me close, his mind running through business while his body used mine.

Two weeks ago, I'd made a deal with Leon Vidic, another boss running things in New York.

I'd give him Dante's throat.

He'd give me a clean exit.

The door swung open.

Dante stepped in, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. His chin rested on my shoulder. "Look, Victoria... Elena's fragile. Health issues and all that."

His breath warmed my ear. "At tomorrow's dinner, I need you to look after her and the kid. Make her feel welcome, yeah?"

I stared at his cold, sharp features in the mirror. His thoughts bled through crystal clear:

As long as Victoria plays nice and shields Elena from the vultures, she can keep the title of Mrs. Cappello.

But if she lays one finger on Elena, I'll make her regret she was ever born.

"Don't worry, Dante."

I lowered my eyes.

"I'll take good care of her."

Satisfaction crossed his face. He pressed a cold, perfunctory kiss to my forehead. "Good girl."

Then he turned and walked out, heading straight to his study to make his nightly call to Elena.

I wiped away the ghost of his kiss. A bitter smile twisted my lips.

Hang in there, Dante.

Soon you and your precious Elena can live happily ever after.

Just like you always wanted.