No Longer the Don's Bride

Rosalie’s private residence was guarded by Sinclair men, and every visitor was supposed to be cleared in advance.

Dante simply gave them the gate code and property number known only to the family.

“Dante, the Vitale family has been watching me for days. I think someone planted a listening device in the house.”

Rosalie clutched the mahogany wine case as she complained softly.

“I don’t want to be alone until your men sweep every room.”

Dante unfastened his seat belt.

“I’ll take a look.”

His hand was already on the door when he finally glanced at me.

“Wait here. Ten minutes, at most.”

The car was warm.

Before getting out, he still laid his cashmere scarf across my lap.

“Keep the window closed. Cold air always gives you a headache.”

That was Dante.

He remembered every little thing about me, yet could leave me waiting in a car the moment my sister needed him.

After all, Dante and Rosalie had grown up together. I was only the long-lost Sinclair daughter who had returned years later. By the time I met Dante, he and Rosalie had already known each other for years. There never seemed to be room for me in the life they had built before I came along.

Ten minutes passed.

Rosalie’s foyer remained dark, and Dante still had not returned.

I was reviewing flights to London when the car door opened.

He offered no explanation for the delay. He only held out a cup of coffee.

“Latte. No sugar.”

The lid had already been removed, and the coffee had cooled to exactly the temperature I liked.

I stared at the booking page on my phone and made no move to take it.

He held the coffee between us.

After a few seconds, Dante turned to me.

“What has you so distracted?”

I snapped out of it, locked the screen, and took the cup.

“Nothing. A work email.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed, settling on the phone clenched in my right hand.

“You’re lying.”

He said it quietly, but the entire car went still.

He held out his hand, palm up.

Dante leaned into the car, moving closer until I could feel his breath against my lips. “Tell me what you’re hiding.”

My heart pounded, and an ache gathered behind my eyes. He had pursued me for two years after meeting me at the Sinclair reception, drawn to the independence I had fought so hard to build. Yet the same man who loved my strength could never resist Rosalie the moment she softened her voice and reached for him.

After four years together, he knew every nervous habit I had.

Whenever I was nervous, my thumb worried at the edge of my phone.

Dante kept closing the distance until Rosalie’s tearful voice broke the tension between us.

She stood behind him, gently tugging at the hem of his coat.

“Dante, I’m scared. I can’t stay here alone tonight.”

“Vivienne, can I stay at your place tonight?”

She stepped forward and hooked her little finger around mine.

Rosalie was four years younger than me.

She had grown up as the Sinclair family’s pampered princess, and Dante had doted on her since childhood as if she were his own little sister.

Whenever she wanted something from me, she would tug at my hand this way until I gave in.

Before I could say a word, Dante answered for me. “It’s only one room. Vivienne will agree.”

My grip tightened around the cup until my knuckles blanched.

So whether I agreed or not had never mattered.

Only then did he look at me.

“Give Rosalie the suite east of the master bedroom. She’s a light sleeper. No servants in the east wing tonight.”

“Not that room.”

When I moved into the Visconti estate, Dante had personally ordered the lock changed on that suite.

Everything my foster parents had left me was stored inside.

He had placed the only key in my hand and promised no one else would ever enter.

Now his expression hardened.

Rosalie lowered her eyes, already brimming with tears.

“It’s all right. I’ll stay at a hotel. I know Vivienne doesn’t like anyone touching her foster parents’ things.”

The more reasonable she sounded, the crueler I appeared.

Dante ordered the driver on in a clipped voice.

“Rosalie isn’t just anyone.”

After a beat, he looked at me.

“Vivienne, don’t start a fight with me three days before our engagement party.”