Chapter 2

"I mean it," I added. "Next week."

My words fell into dead silence.

Corleone stopped mid-step and slowly turned around.

He pressed his fingers hard against the bridge of his nose, his tone clipped with impatience.

"Tella, stop this."

His gaze settled heavily on me, his voice carrying an authority that left no room for argument.

"I remember our ten-year promise. But the overseas partnerships have piled up. I can't be in two places at once."

"Besides, what we have was never held together by ceremonies. If it really matters to you, I'll make it happen once things calm down."

I lowered my eyes, my fingers tightening.

This ceremony was a promise he had made to me himself ten years ago.

Ten years ago, when I was eighteen, I had just helped him take the seat of Don.

His foundation was still shaky then. Rival factions were circling, the entire organization was on the brink, and we had agreed to postpone the wedding.

On the night of his coronation, the lights caught his face, still young but full of certainty.

"I owe you, Tella. In ten years, once I've secured my position as Don and cleared every obstacle, I'll give you the grandest wedding in all of Europe. One no one can match."

"I'll make sure everyone knows you are Corleone's only wife. My only Donna."

I believed him. I waited ten full years.

Next week was the exact date we had set to honor that promise.

I had kept it in my heart all along. But today, the promise I had dreamed of for countless nights had become, in his words, a superficial ceremony that could be pushed back whenever it suited him.

I met his gaze, my eyes perfectly calm.

"My wedding isn't with you."

That did it. Whatever patience Corleone had left shattered.

His brows drew together tight, and the air around him turned ice cold.

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"If not me, then who?"

"Over something this petty, you'd stoop to lies like this? Donatella, you've gone too far."

He stared at me, his chest rising and falling, visibly furious.

But after only seconds of our standoff, he looked at my calm expression and forced his anger down.

After a long exhale, the tension in his jaw released.

He leaned forward slightly, resting one elbow on the edge of the desk, his imposing presence pulling back just a fraction.

"I lost my temper. I shouldn't have gotten angry with you."

"Every faction has been pulling me in different directions. The pressure's been too much. Cut me some slack, and stop fighting with me. I'll do my best to keep our ten-year promise."

I knew this was the most Corleone would ever concede.

I stared at his face, inches from mine, and ten years of storms flashed before my eyes.

My throat tightened. The refusal on the tip of my tongue never made it past my lips.

After a long silence, I let out a single word.

"Fine."

The relief that washed over him was almost visible.

He straightened up and smoothed his wrinkled collar.

"I still have some business tonight. I won't disturb your rest."

"I'll sleep in the guest room."

He turned toward the door. Just as his hand closed on the handle, he paused as if remembering something, and looked back.

"There's a gala tomorrow night. You're coming with me. I'll have the staff send up a gown later."

Without waiting for my answer, he walked out.

Silence settled over the room again. I sat alone in the empty study, staring at those gift-with-purchase earrings on the desk for a long time.

The next evening, the staff delivered a couture gown right on time.

I dressed and accompanied Corleone to the gala.

The grand ballroom blazed with light, crystal chandeliers casting brilliant reflections everywhere.

Every power broker and elite figure in the city was there. The air hummed with polite chatter and the clink of wine glasses.

As the Donna, I moved through the crowd with practiced ease, making small talk with several prominent wives in a quiet corner.

While fielding their flattery, I let my gaze sweep idly across the hall.

My eyes landed on something, and I went still.

I didn't expect Bianca to be there too.

She sat openly at Corleone's side, chatting comfortably with several overseas executives as if she were the lady of the house.

But what hit me hardest was the piece shining at her throat.

The one-of-a-kind emerald necklace, the one no amount of money could buy, sat perfectly against her skin.