Chapter 4

Before I left the hotel, photographs of Damian and his future wife were already spreading across every major news site.

News of the Moretti and DeLuca alliance spread across New York. Financial reporters analyzed the empire the two families would create, while entertainment sites published photographs of Bianca leaving the gala on Damian’s arm.

Everyone called them a perfect match.

Damian had been linked to actresses, models, and women from other families before, but he had dismissed every rumor and rarely bothered to explain further.

Bianca was the first woman he had ever acknowledged publicly.

Before yesterday, I might have fought with him until he lost patience and soothed me with gifts or a vacation. Now, I had no strength left for an argument.

Besides, I was the one who had never possessed a name in his life.

I closed the article and returned alone to the Manhattan penthouse.

Rain had begun again.

I started packing immediately. Damian had filled my closet with clothes, jewelry, and handbags, but I left all of them behind. I took only the things I had bought myself and several books I often read.

Everything that truly belonged to me fit into two suitcases.

At the back of the bedside drawer, I found an old phone I had bought while studying in New York. After charging it, I opened the gallery.

There we were beside the ocean, his face turned toward mine. In another photograph, he was reading during a weekend date, my legs resting across his lap.

I remembered how certain I had been that we would marry someday.

When he told me his position meant keeping our relationship private, I had believed it would be temporary. I thought his family would eventually accept me.

Now he was announcing his future with another woman, and still expecting me to stay.

I selected every photograph and video of Damian.

Delete all.

When the screen went dark, something inside me seemed to empty with it.

I stood by the window. Rain blurred the city lights and divided New York into distant islands.

For the first time, I understood that status was not the only distance between us.

I closed the curtains and returned to the living room just as the door opened.

Damian stepped inside.

He noticed the suitcases immediately. His brow tightened.

“You’re angry enough to run away this time?”

I did not answer.

Rain clung to the shoulders of his black coat, and the smell of alcohol followed him into the room. He crossed the distance between us and pulled me into his arms.

“Enough,” he said, his voice gentler. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I knew you would be upset.”

My body went rigid.

“It is only an alliance. It changes nothing between us.”

For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood him.

He continued as if he had not noticed my reaction. “I’ll have the lawyers transfer the East Seventy-Fourth Street townhouse into your name. If work makes you unhappy, resign. Travel for a while.”

His arms tightened around me.

“I’ll come to you after the formal engagement banquet next month. Will that satisfy you?”

His hand rose to my cheek. His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, and he bent toward me, stopping just before our lips touched.

“Elena.”

I knew that voice. I had heard it against my pillow, felt it against my skin. When I lifted my face, he kissed me.

For a moment, I kissed him back. My fingers caught in his shirt, and he drew me closer, one hand warm at my waist. His mouth softened against mine. He kissed me again, slower this time, lingering as though he had missed me.

Then I remembered where he would be next month. Standing beside Bianca while their families celebrated.

I loosened my grip on his shirt and turned my face away.

Damian stopped. His hand fell from my waist when I stepped back, but his eyes stayed on mine.

“I love you,” he said.

I had wanted to hear those words all evening. Now I searched his face, trying to understand how he could mean them and still ask this of me.

“You are marrying another woman, yet you expect me to remain here. What do you want me to be? The mistress waiting beside you while you marry her?”

Damian showed no guilt.

“I told you this is a family alliance. There will be nothing real between Bianca and me. The marriage exists for the families and for everyone watching.”

“And afterward?” I asked quietly. “Am I supposed to remain your hidden mistress for the rest of my life?”

His patience finally broke.

His face hardened, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Is that all our relationship means to you? After five years, you have no trust in me at all?”

I said nothing.

“Even if I never give you a public title, the wealth, influence, and protection you receive from me are beyond anything an ordinary man could provide in ten lifetimes.”

He stepped closer, holding my gaze.

“You have been with me long enough to understand that.”

Then he looked at me as if I had disappointed him beyond measure.

“Or have I given you so much that nothing will ever be enough?”

His voice turned colder.

“Are you really that greedy, Elena?”