Never See You Again, Don

Ellie was still walking me through how the proposal had gone.

She said he'd shut down an entire private island, lined up dozens of black yachts, flown in roses until they carpeted the whole shore, plus the top-tier custom diamond ring on her finger.

The kind of thing worth a small fortune.

"After I said yes, that night was an absolute nightmare. He had me going until dawn and still wouldn't let me rest."

"You know how jealous he gets? He went straight through my phone and deleted every photo of another man."

"Just look at me."

Ellie tugged her clothes down.

Her shoulders were covered in kiss marks, dark red at the edges.

Something in my chest pricked without my meaning it to. My lips went pale, and I said flatly, "So when are you bringing him home to meet Mom and Dad?"

Ellie's eyes darted away, her smile stiff.

"We'll see when there's time."

"But didn't he just propose to you?"

"I said yes, but I'm not looking to get married right now." Ellie gave a little smile, then slipped the bracelet off her wrist.

"This was my boyfriend's proposal gift. Let it be a little welcome present for the baby." Ellie touched my belly, then fastened it onto me.

She said gently, "Monica, it's a top-grade diamond bracelet. When the baby's born, put it on him. The heir to a mafia Don should be dressed like he's worth something."

I ran my fingers over the bracelet, and the unease inside me grew heavier.

The diamonds came from the mines of Southport. Back when Dante and I got married, he'd spent a year having people search for the perfect stone to make me a Donna ring that was mine alone, and then he'd flown down to Southport in person with Ellie.

My sister was even attacked on the way there because of it, and to this day she has a scar on her leg.

They'd poured themselves into giving me that grand wedding. I'd seen all of it.

Thinking back on that, some of my doubt eased.

Maybe I was overthinking it.

I was still thanking Ellie when Dante came back.

He'd brought a cake, already had the servants slice it, and carried a plate of it over to me.

"Try it. I ordered your favorite flavor."

Dante fed me a bite.

I savored it. It tasted wonderful, and I gave him a smile.

Beside us, Ellie paused, then looked at me and teased, "You don't find men this thoughtful anymore. I'm honestly jealous."

"Then again, I've got a great one too. My boyfriend doesn't just feed me cake, he learned to cook for me. Burned his arm and didn't even tell me."

The moment she said it, the fork in Dante's hand clattered to the floor.

I turned to look.

There was something forced in his expression as he bent down to pick it up.

Just then I caught sight of a burn scar on his arm, right over our couple's tattoo, blurring the rose into something you could barely make out.

My heart lurched.

Ellie took my hand. "You'd better hold on to this man, Monica, or someone else will take him."

Dante pulled my hand back out of Ellie's.

"You should rest. It's not good for the baby otherwise."

Dante's voice was gentle as ever.

"Ellie, I'll have the driver take you home."

Dante was showing her the door.

He never said things outright.

I'd realized a long time ago that he didn't like Ellie.

He didn't like how sexily Ellie dressed, didn't like her careless, free-spirited nature, and he especially couldn't stand how close she stayed with the sons of those arms dealers.

Then Ellie and I went out together, got caught in a rival family's hit, and I lost the baby in the chaos.

Dante's aversion only ran deeper.

Whenever Ellie came to our house, he'd shut himself in the study and not come out until she'd left.

He'd even tell me to see less of her.

Because Ellie was my sister, he kept things polite on the surface, nothing more.

Ellie knew it herself.

She didn't hold it against him.

She shot Dante a glance and said goodbye to me.

I stood by the window, holding Dante's hand, watching Ellie walk out of the estate.

Only then did I look down and rub the pad of my thumb over the scar on his forearm.

Dante tried to pull back, but I gripped him tighter.

He gave an easy laugh. "Don't tell me you forgot how I got this."

I didn't answer. Of course I remembered.

He'd burned himself in the kitchen making soup for me. By the time I walked in, a big blister had already risen on his arm.

Our tattoo had been scalded past recognition.

Soup was spilled all over the floor.

A scar had been left in that spot ever since. The rose that stood for our love was gone too.

I lifted my head, looked at him, and hesitated for a long moment.

Then I said, "Yesterday I saw a wedding ring inside your suit."