Chapter 2

"Morning-sickness pills won't fix all her problems," I said. "What Vivi really wants is someone who'll always put her first and come running whenever she calls."

Vivi flushed. "Elena, that isn't what I meant."

Dante's face darkened. "You've been looking for a fight ever since I left for the sit-down with the Midwest families in Chicago. It was family business. Do you expect your husband to report every step he takes?"

Two weeks ago had been our wedding anniversary.

I'd spent three days preparing dinner: rosemary lamb, his favorite bourbon, and the custom obsidian fountain pen I'd ordered months earlier. I waited until the fire died and the candles burned down to wax.

He never came home.

After midnight, Vivi posted a picture from the Moretti family's Chicago residence. She stood on the terrace while Dante sheltered her from the wind.

The caption read: [With you in my corner, I'm not afraid of anything.]

When I called him, his voice stayed maddeningly calm. "Two families added last-minute talks. I didn't have time to walk you through it. Our anniversary comes every year. Tonight's agreement doesn't. I thought you'd know which one mattered more."

Then he'd added, "Stop making my schedule the center of your life. You need a life of your own."

Something inside me finally cracked. "So that's it? No matter what happens, I'm always the one who gets pushed to the bottom of the list?"

He was quiet for a moment before sighing. "We'll talk when I get back."

Then he hung up.

That same night, I signed an employment contract with an international consulting firm in London.

The recruiter asked twice if I was sure. "You'd be leaving New York. Does your husband know? You're still Mrs. Moretti."

I signed the final page. "It's my career. I don't need anyone's permission."

Months earlier, I'd asked Dante whether I should accept a position with the family foundation or return to corporate work. He hadn't even looked up from his tablet. "It's your life. Decide for yourself."

But when Vivi needed guidance, he spent an entire afternoon explaining the family's hierarchy to her. He personally introduced her to the underboss, the head of security, and three captains. He made sure she knew exactly who to call whenever she ran into trouble.

According to Dante, my greatest flaw was that I relied on him too much.

When I shared good news, his eyes rarely left his reports. When I asked him to see a show with me, he said a boss's schedule couldn't revolve around his wife. When I wanted to attend a reception with the other families at his side, he told me to build a life outside our marriage.

For years, I thought Dante was simply cold by nature. Controlled. Bad at affection. Difficult to love.

I believed that if I stayed long enough, one day I'd become the exception.

Then Vivi came back into my life.

She was my stepsister, only three years younger than me. We'd never been close, but after my mother died, Vivi had nowhere to go. I was the one who asked Dante to let her come under the family's protection.

He agreed without hesitation.

By the time I realized what was happening, she'd become the exception I'd waited years to be.

If she fought with another girl at the family's training center, he listened to every detail. If she wanted cinnamon rolls after midnight, he drove across the city himself. At family events, he kept her at his side and told everyone, "This is Vivi. Look after her."

Whenever I questioned it, he frowned. "She's new to the family and doesn't know how things work. Are you really jealous of that? Don't make this ugly."

Every excuse I'd made for him collapsed. He wasn't too busy to be gentle. He wasn't incapable of tenderness.

He simply hadn't wanted to give it to me.

Maybe that was for the best.

After tomorrow's surgery, I'd leave New York and file for divorce.

Dante would think I'd taken half my clothes.

He wouldn't know I'd taken his child too.

My phone rang. It was my best friend, Tessa.

"I'm coming over tonight," she said. "You're pregnant. You can't be alone after surgery." Her voice softened. "When are you going to tell Dante? Weren't you planning to announce it at your anniversary dinner?"

I didn't answer.

Tessa sighed. "Whatever. Get the guest room ready. Your favorite unpaid nurse is moving in."

I finally smiled. "The sheets are fresh, and I bought you a new..."

The guest-room door swung open.

The rest of the sentence died on my tongue.