The Don’s Veiled Rose

The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief.

Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack.

But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits.

During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation.

Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess.

Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud.

But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm.

"Did the beast hurt you?"

Just that one question, and my heart melted completely.

"Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?"

"I don't share my man. Not in any way."

He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty."

After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this:

If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own.

Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me.

Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy.

Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was.

Daemon chuckled and said casually,

"She asked me if anyone had my heart before her."

"I told her no."

...

I froze outside the door, an arctic chill piercing me to the bone, my blood running cold.

He had a great love he could never forget?

Daemon, the man who cherished me, who called me his one and only... had someone else hidden in his heart?

Inside, the regret in the Consigliere's voice was a sharp slap across my face.

"Daemon, it's been so many years. You still can't forget Gianna."

Gianna...

The name hit me like a physical blow.

The Thorne family's adopted daughter, Daemon's foster sister.

A low chuckle came from the study as someone else spoke.

"But it was a brilliant move, marrying that maniac Scarlett. Now the media, the FBI, and all the wolves circling the Thorne family... all eyes are on her."

"Scarlett is so high-profile, she makes the perfect target."

So that was it. A chill shot up my spine, freezing the blood in my veins.

So all his supposed affection was just a ploy to make me a bigger, brighter target, to take the bullets meant for the woman he truly loved.

"But Daemon, a woman as wild as Scarlett... especially in bed. Can you really hold back and not feel a thing?"

I bit down hard on my lower lip, until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

In that wretched moment, I desperately wanted to hear a different answer.

Even just a second of hesitation.

But in the next instant, Daemon's cold, emotionless voice replied, "Who could ever love a beast that can't be tamed?"

The pregnancy test report in my hand crumpled into a ball. A sharp tearing sound echoed in the silent hallway.

The scraps of paper fluttered down, the ashes of my shattered marriage.

In the past, no matter how much trouble I caused, he would always clean up my messes without a word of reproach, never raising his voice to me.

I thought I was his exception. Now I knew it was only because he didn't care.

My legs trembled and threatened to give out. A crushing weight settled on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs.

All that indulgence was a calculated plot. I was just a pawn used to draw enemy fire.

Those foolish moments when my heart had fluttered for him now made me feel like a complete and utter fool.

Just as I was about to lose control and storm in to confront him, Daemon's satellite phone rang.

"Don, Miss Gianna was harassed by some rival thugs on her way back from church. She's shaken up, crying. Can you come see her?"

Daemon shot to his feet, the force of his movement knocking his chair to the floor with a loud crash.

He snatched his black trench coat from the back of the chair, not even taking the time to fully conceal the Beretta at his waist.

I instinctively ducked around the corner, then felt ridiculous for doing so.

His mind was on Gianna; he wouldn't have noticed anything else.

His brow was deeply furrowed, his eyes filled with an unconcealable panic, as if his world would collapse if he were a second too late.

I watched his back disappear down the hall, and my heart died completely.

When I had turned his estate into a disaster zone with a rampaging stallion, he had come to get me looking as cool and composed as ever, not a single strand of his tie out of place.

The difference between being loved and being used was painfully obvious.

I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat, and pulled out my phone to dial the number I had sworn I would never call again for help.

"Dad, get the divorce papers drawn up."

"Tell the family lawyer I'm terminating the marriage alliance with the Thorne family."

"Now. Right now. Immediately."