After Three Days of Confinement, I Gave Up on My Mafia Fiancé

Through the camera mounted in the corner of the cellar ceiling, Lorenzo could see every bit of my misery.

He sat in his study, his black suit immaculate, the family ring on his finger tapping lightly against the desk.

Sal stood at his side and lowered his voice. "Sir, should we let Miss Moretti out? She's in bad shape."

Lorenzo looked up.

"She made the Rossi girl bleed."

His voice was cold, without a flicker of feeling.

"She comes out the moment she's willing to admit her fault. Not before."

On the third day, the iron door finally opened.

When the harsh light poured in, I could barely stand. My knees were weak, my throat as dry as if I'd swallowed sand.

Lorenzo stood in the doorway, Bianca on his arm.

The cut on her face had been carefully tended, a white bandage against her skin that only made her look more like a flower everyone needed to protect.

She came to me first, a faint smile on her lips.

"Anna, don't blame me. I already told him the cut wasn't deep and wouldn't scar, but Lorenzo insisted on making someone answer for it."

I didn't look at her.

My eyes were on Lorenzo, my voice shaking too badly to speak fluently.

"You said you'd protect me for the rest of my life."

Lorenzo frowned.

"The Vitalis and the Rossis are about to merge a shipping route."

That was all he said.

I suddenly laughed.

So three years at his side, a wedding, a woman's dignity, none of it was worth a single shipping route.

"Then let's end it," I said.

"I'll step aside for the two of you."

Lorenzo took a step closer, his leather shoes landing with a dull thud on the stone floor.

"Don't say such childish things."

He looked at me the way you'd look at a child who hadn't yet learned the rules.

"Bianca likes her freedom, and the Rossis would never marry her into the Vitali family. You apologize to her, and the moment she's satisfied, I'll take you out of here. The chapel wedding a month from now goes ahead as planned, and you'll still be the most talked-about bride in the whole city."

He paused, his gaze shifting to Bianca.

"You can have her apologize, if it makes you happy."

Bianca pressed close against his arm, her voice sickly sweet.

"No need to kiss my hand. Have her kneel and say she was wrong, and I'll forgive her for nearly ruining my face."

Lorenzo said nothing.

But his eyes had already given me my answer.

My chest ached until it went numb.

"I can kneel before the statue of Jesus. I can kneel at my parents' graves."

I looked at him and said each word slowly.

"But I will not kneel at the hem of your mistress's skirt."

Lorenzo's face finally changed.

"Anna."

My silence drained the last of the patience from his eyes.

He raised his hand.

The two men guarding the door stepped forward at once.

Lorenzo said only three words.

"Make her kneel."

Those words cut into me like a knife, without mercy.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm your fiancée."

Lorenzo pressed his thin lips together.

The next second, a guard's knee slammed hard into the back of my calf.

The piercing pain forced me down onto the stone floor.

The instant my knees hit, I heard something crack deep in the bone.

A satisfied smile spread across Bianca's face.

Lorenzo walked up and looked down at me.

"If you'd listened sooner, you wouldn't have had to suffer like this."

With that, he bent down and lifted me into his arms.

There was a faint scent of white flowers on him.

It was the scent he'd had a perfumer blend just for Bianca, one that no one else in all of Old Port was allowed to wear.

My stomach churned.

Then, I threw up.

Nothing came up but bitter bile.

Lorenzo only frowned and carried me out.

As we passed Bianca, I caught the flash of venom in her eyes.