Future Donna? I'd Rather Start Over

Luca Valentino saw that I had no intention of answering his questions, so he set the jewelry box on the console table by the entryway.

"I know you're still angry, Elena." He sighed, his voice weary and tinged with the condescension of someone who believed he had every right to lecture me. "But you could at least try to be a little more understanding. You know how much Viola means to me."

The jewelry box sat half-open, revealing a teardrop-cut diamond necklace whose icy brilliance caught the light from the wall sconce in the entryway.

It was a family heirloom passed down through generations of the Valentino Famiglia, a symbol of the family's Donna.

Once, even a lingering glance at the necklace had been enough to earn me a look of contempt from Isabella Visconti, the Madre and Luca's mother, as though I'd defiled it simply by looking at it.

"It's late. Please leave," I said calmly.

He thrust his hand against the door to stop me from closing it, scraping his wrist against the edge.

"I canceled a family meeting and flew all the way to Lunavere, and you're just going to shut me out like this?"

At the other end of the hallway, two bodyguards stood with their heads bowed, terrified of witnessing something they shouldn't.

No one had ever dared to keep Luca out.

Neither had I. In the past, no matter how ugly our arguments became, I'd always protected his dignity and reputation in front of outsiders.

"What is it you want to hear?"

I met his gaze. "Do you want me to promise I'll be more understanding about Viola losing her father? Or would you rather hear me swear that I won't complain the next time she calls you in the middle of the night?"

"Why do you always have to drag her into this?" he demanded.

"Then why don't you ask her why she always has to come between us?"

I first learned of Viola Moretti on New Year's Eve.

I'd spent the entire evening waiting for Luca at the dining table. When I finally called him, Viola was the one who answered, her tone casual and almost condescending.

"Could you try to remember your place? Luca is the head of the Valentino Famiglia, the Don of the Mafia. He's a busy man. He can't spend every waking moment revolving around you."

But Luca was right there beside her, celebrating the holiday with her. I could hear him calling out to her, telling her the New Year's fireworks were ready and reminding her to put on a coat before coming outside.

Meanwhile, I sat alone in the dining room, feeling like a clown performing for an audience that had long since left.

"Even at my mother's memorial service, you chose her over me," I reminded him.

Luca frowned. "She had to collect her father's belongings that day. How could I let her face that alone?"

"So it's fine to leave me alone?" I shot back.

He had nothing more to say.

I still remembered the bench outside the church. The service had ended, and everyone else had gone home, yet I'd sat there clutching my mother's photograph from morning until dusk.

Luca hadn't replied to a single message I'd sent him that day.

That very evening, Viola posted a new photo on social media. It showed two hands clasped tightly together, fingers intertwined, accompanied by the caption, "It's such a comfort to have someone by your side during your darkest moments."

"Elena, her father died protecting me."

Luca's voice softened as he reached for my hand, trying to take it in his.

"You understand what that means." He paused before swearing, "Besides, you're the only woman I love."

I pulled my hand away. "I've spent eight years understanding what that means."

Just then, his phone rang, and Viola's name lit up the screen.

He hesitated. The ringing stopped for a few seconds before starting again, and a message popped up almost immediately afterward.

"Answer the phone! I know you're with her. Is she seriously going to keep this up all day?"

"Viola didn't mean it like that," he said, trying to explain on her behalf.

"Go ahead. You have things to take care of."

"Don't let one little comment make you—"

I stepped back inside and closed the door.

I stood there with my back against it for a while, listening to the muffled sound of his voice on the phone from the other side.

There wasn't a single word of reproach, only promise after promise, each one meant to reassure her.