Chapter 3

I made two Italian-style pancakes and packed them in a thermal container.

This would be the last time I made him breakfast.

I used to bring him a hot breakfast at the casino every morning.

All because he once said, "I only eat the pancakes Sienna makes."

Later, he said it was too much trouble, that the casino was full of all sorts of shady characters, and told me to stop coming around.

I believed him then. I thought he was genuinely concerned for my safety.

Only now did I realize he was just afraid I would stumble upon his affair with Chloe.

A deep red carpet ran the length of the corridor on the top floor of the casino. My footsteps were almost silent.

Around the corner, two of his enforcers were leaning against the wall, smoking.

"The Capo didn't come home last night, did he?"

"Home? Hell no. You guys hear? The boss took Chloe out on his new yacht for the night."

"Man, that Chloe's really something else. She knows how to handle the Capo in the boardroom and the bedroom."

"That painter, Sienna, is too soft. A mafia Donna can't be cooped up in a studio all day. Chloe's the one who's right for the Capo."

So, in the places I couldn't see, he and Chloe had already gone this far.

I had actually, on a rare occasion, argued with him over Chloe crossing the line.

He had gotten blackout drunk at an underground fight, and it was Chloe, her clothes a mess, who helped him back to our apartment.

I was furious.

But after he sobered up, he explained with a cold face, "Sienna, why are you so suspicious? She's my associate, part of the family. What's wrong with her helping me with business and giving me a ride home?"

"She's not like you. Her head isn't filled with all that drama."

Every time, he would habitually compare me to his young, beautiful assistant.

And every time, the conclusion was that Chloe could do no wrong, and I could do no right.

I didn't want to listen to the enforcers' gossip any longer. I rounded the corner.

One last meeting, one last word, and then we would be done.

The mahogany door was ajar. I reached for the handle, but voices from inside stopped me cold.

"Mmm... don't bite there, Capo. You'll leave a mark."

"What, scared now? You weren't so worried about a little pain last night on the yacht's deck, straddling me and begging for more," his voice was a low rumble, laced with a smile. "You clawed up the mattress."

"You're awful. I thought no one on the boat could hear."

"Angelo heard. He was busting my chops this morning, said I'd finally found a woman who can keep up with me."

Chloe let out a low laugh. "And your wife?"

"Sienna? She doesn't know anything. She just stays home and paints her pictures."

Through the crack in the door, I saw Chloe sitting on his lap.

One of his hands rested on her waist, and his face held a kind of smile I hadn't seen in a long time, relaxed and sated.

Nausea churned in my stomach, even though I'd long suspected all of this.

But hearing it from his own mouth was different.

I looked down at the carefully insulated pancakes in my hand. I didn't want to give them to him anymore.

I fought to control my trembling body, wanting to retreat in silence.

But in my haste, my shoulder brushed against a blue-and-white porcelain vase at the end of the hall.

With a dull thud, the vase crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

"Who's out there?" Alessandro's voice turned sharp.

Through the crack in the door, his eyes shot past Chloe's shoulder and met mine.