The Don’s Secret Wife

Three days before the wedding, the man I’d been with for six years told me he was already married.

And I, his partner in building an empire, was to be his Donna in name only. In reality, his mistress.

Sweat slicked the hard muscles of Blair’s back, soaking into the expensive silk sheets.

He pinned me beneath him, his rough thumb tracing my collarbone, sending a shiver through me.

He wouldn't let me turn away, his mouth crashing down on mine, staking his claim.

"Flora," he growled, his voice a sexy, dangerous rumble.

And God, I loved it when he was this possessive.

I was the daughter of the former Don of the Hillrose Family. After my father’s unexpected death, I went to Blair’s side to hold our families' alliance together.

For six years, I was his right hand, his top strategist.

Together, we took five boroughs. We were the most lethal power couple in New York's underworld. Partners in every sense of the word. Soulmates.

Next month, we were supposed to have the wedding of the century at St. Patrick's Cathedral.

I was so full of hope for our future.

After we finished, Blair pulled away.

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and lit a cigar, the ritual smooth and familiar. The cherry glowed like a single red eye in the dark.

"Flora, I need to tell you something," he said, his voice calm as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

I pulled the sheet around me, leaning against the headboard with a contented smile. "What is it?"

Blair took a deep breath and turned to face me, a look in his eyes I’d never seen before. "Legally, I've been married for six years."

The air in the room froze.

"What did you say?" I stared at him, sure it was some kind of sick joke.

"The old man set it up before he died. Her father took a bullet for my parents. It’s a debt of honor." Blair’s tone was casual, like he was discussing a business deal. "If you can live with it, the wedding goes on. Nothing changes."

He paused. "I know what this is. So, what's it gonna be?"

"Live with it?" My body started to shake. The sheer fucking absurdity of it, the dull, heavy pain of betrayal, washed over me.

Six years. He had lied to me for six years.

A wave of nausea churned in my stomach.

The morning sickness, twisted with the raw shock, had me scrambling out of bed and running for the bathroom.

"Ugh—" I collapsed over the toilet, heaving my guts out.

Tears I couldn't control splashed onto the cold tile floor.

Blair was right behind me.

He frowned, his warm, large hand patting my back out of habit.

"Don't be like this. She's just some village girl from Sicily," he soothed patiently. "The marriage license is just a piece of paper. I only go to the house in the suburbs once a month to make sure she’s alright. That’s it. You’re the one I love."

Once a month.

I remembered how there was always one night a month he wasn't home.

I flinched away from his touch. "So all those times you said you were dealing with crew trouble... you were with her, weren't you?"

Blair didn’t answer. He didn't have to.

I looked at the man I had loved for six years and felt like I was seeing a stranger.

A dull ache started in my lower belly, and my hand instinctively went to cover it.

Blair’s brow furrowed as he moved toward me. "Flora, what's wrong?"

Just then, his phone rang.

It was a very specific, custom ringtone—a wind chime.

Blair’s expression flickered, and he quickly killed the call.

But the person on the other end was persistent, calling again and again.

He hesitated for a moment, then answered.

In the quiet room, the woman's delicate voice was perfectly clear.

"Blair... there's thunder, and I had a nightmare. I'm so scared. Can you come... can you come be with me?" Her voice was soft and timid, designed to make you feel sorry for her.

I knew exactly who it was. His wife of six years. The legal Mrs. Falcone.

Blair sighed. "It's alright. Have one of the maids stay with you."

He hung up, as if that was supposed to prove his loyalty to me.

But I was remembering the countless times over the last six years I’d heard that ringtone. He would always scowl, kill the call, and tell me it was some headache he was dealing with.

I had never felt so stupid in my life.

"You lied to me for six years!" I screamed, grabbing a crystal perfume bottle from the counter and hurling it at him. "What am I to you? A mistress you hide in the shadows?"

The bottle shattered at his feet.

"No! You are the only one I acknowledge as my wife! I will only share my power and my position with you. Isn't that enough?"

The absurdity was suffocating. "And her?"

He was silent for a moment. "She is my responsibility. A matter of family honor."

I couldn't even look at him anymore. This man who had made a fool out of me. I was about to tell him we were done.

Then my phone rang.

"Mom" flashed on the screen.

I took a shaky breath, forcing the tremor out of my voice as I answered.

"Flora, my baby!" my mother’s excited voice chirped. "We just got the wedding invitations! All the family elders are so impressed. They're saying Blair is the perfect husband and you're going to be the most envied Donna in all of New York. Your father would be so proud!"