I Left the Mafia Don at the Altar

Stepping out of the restaurant, the bitter late-autumn New York wind slapped against my face.

I was already back at my apartment by the time Marcello finally called me back.

"Where are you?" Marcello's voice was laced with arrogant annoyance and demand. "I just got to the restaurant, and the ma?tre d' said you already left. Cora, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now?"

"A tantrum?" I let out a cold laugh. "Marcello, my parents flew halfway across the country to discuss our wedding. They waited for you in that restaurant for three whole hours! You think I'm throwing a tantrum?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and his tone softened.

"Someone broke into Valerie's apartment. She was terrified and wouldn't stop crying. I had to stay and calm her down."

"You know I treat her like my own sister."

Valerie.

Always Valerie.

The wealthy heiress he grew up with.

Compared to me, they looked like the perfect match.

I thought about yesterday, when my parents first landed in New York.

I was tied up with a book signing and asked Marcello to send a bodyguard to pick them up at the airport. This was his territory, after all; any of the family's cars could have saved two older people the hassle.

"Cora, they're adults, they can take a cab," he had said, not even looking up. "My bodyguards are for family business, not to act as your parents' personal chauffeurs."

He rejected me flat out.

In the end, I had to swallow my pride and ask a regular friend to pick them up.

It was laughable. I really wanted to ask him—wasn't Valerie an adult, too?

"Marcello..." a sickly sweet, whining female voice suddenly came through the phone, so cloying it made my stomach turn. "I still feel dizzy..."

I heard Marcello hurriedly comfort her, then he rushed back to me: "Anyway, let's just pick another time and restaurant."

"And when we do, make sure your parents have a better attitude. No more tantrums. You know the Commission is already unhappy that I didn't take an arranged marriage..."

I gripped my phone tight and replied:

"Don't bother."

"My parents are heading back in a few days."

Marcello paused for a second, then said smoothly:

"Fine. The wedding is going to follow my family's traditions anyway, so I doubt your parents could offer much advice."

I hung up on him.

I turned around to find my mother standing by the balcony. She pulled me into a gentle hug, her eyes red.

"Cora, don't fight with Marcello because of us."

"As long as he treats you well, that's all that matters. We'll leave right after the wedding, we won't be a burden."

Looking at the new gray hairs at my parents' temples, a sour ache gripped my nose.

I shouldn't let the people who love me suffer humiliation for a man who doesn't.

"Mom, I'm not upset." I forced a bright smile, swallowing all the bitterness. "Actually, I was just about to tell you. My new book deal is finalized. I don't have to stay in New York anymore. In three days, I'm moving back to Texas with you."

"Really?" My dad heard the commotion and walked over, overjoyed.

I nodded firmly:"Really. Go pack your bags."

Watching my parents walk away, relieved and practically skipping to pack their things, I walked over to the trash can.

I looked at the ring on my left hand—the symbol of the Rossi family Don's fiancée.

I took it off.

Maybe it never belonged to me in the first place.

At half-past midnight, Marcello came home.

The heavy stench of whiskey mixed with Valerie's favorite, ridiculously expensive custom iris perfume filled the quiet bedroom.

The mattress dipped sharply.

A pair of arms, strong as iron, wrapped tightly around my waist from behind without warning.

The man's heavy, warm breath brushed intimately against the crook of my neck.

"Why did you go to sleep without me? Couldn't even leave a light on for me?" Marcello's husky voice murmured against my ear, laced with a lazy edge of displeasure.