The Seven-Year Bet

"Camilla, are you insane?! Every family in the country has their guns pointed at this room, and you want a divorce?!"

Vivienne held onto me tightly.

I did not look back. I wrenched my arm free and pushed open the heavy carved doors.

Hundreds of cold eyes snapped toward me.

At the head of the banquet table, the high seat stood empty. It was waiting for Chicago's new Don.

I walked right up to the center of the main stage under every capo's gaze. I pulled off the ring on my left hand. The ring that made me his Donna.

I threw it straight into the silver ice bucket in front of me.

With a sharp clink, ice water splashed.

I stared down the whole room. "As of tonight, Matteo and I are done."

Dead silence fell over the hall.

"Camilla."

The deep voice cut through the air.

Matteo walked up the stage stairs with long strides.

He stood tall and broad-shouldered. After seven years, his features had grown colder from the smoke of gunfire, but when he looked at me, there was still a trace of tenderness.

"You suffered these past seven years. I will give you whatever you want tonight," his voice was low, yet carried absolute authority, "but the ring stays on. The Five Families are here. Stop acting out."

The ruthless Don swallowed his pride for me. Years ago, I fell for that rare gentleness and agreed to this blood tie.

Now, it made my stomach turn.

Acting out? Was that hundred-thousand-dollar bet just me acting out? He wrote love letters to me while fathering a daughter in Sicily. Did I make that up too?

I took half a step back, slipping out of his reach.

Matteo's face went rigid.

A loud murmur rippled through the room. Bosses and capos leaned in, whispering behind their glasses.

"That was an accident. I never stopped loving you." His tone stayed calm. "You are the only Donna of the Castiglione family. No one will ever take your place. The three arms docks on the South Side are yours tomorrow. Camilla, you have always known how to act. Don't cheapen yourself in front of outsiders."

"Daddy!"

A small, weak sob came from the side door.

A little girl around five years old stumbled onto the stage. She grabbed Matteo's pant leg with both hands.

Behind her, a frail woman in a modest gown followed with tear-filled eyes. She curtsied at the bottom of the steps, trembling. "Ma'am... I am so sorry. It is all my fault. Please do not blame the Don..."

Matteo's jaw tightened. He looked down at Gianna with cold detachment, then pulled me closer against his chest.

"Gianna saved my life. The child carries my blood. But they will never stand above you." He stared down at me, hard and unyielding. "You are my Donna. The only one. That rule never changes. Be good. Put the ring back on."

I looked at his arrogant face. He truly believed he could control everything.

A deep chill settled in my bones.

"Keep your docks, Matteo." I shoved his chest away. "You might not care about dirt, but you make me sick."

The little girl on the floor started coughing violently.

A shrill gasp tore through the air. The child's face turned a sickening dark purple. Her thin frame shook with spasms, and she collapsed hard onto the marble floor.

"Mia!" Gianna screamed, dropping to her knees. "Matteo! She does not have her inhaler! She cannot breathe!"

Matteo's eyes narrowed.

Without a second thought, he scooped the seizing child into his arms and barked his orders.

"Clear the rooftop! Get the chopper in the air right now!"

He rushed toward the side exit with the girl. When he passed me, he stopped for half a second. His dark eyes locked onto my face with iron dominance.

"She is suffocating. I have to save her first. You are not going anywhere, Camilla."

He turned his cold glare toward the captain of his guards.

"Take the Donna back to the Long Island estate. Lock down the estate for the next twenty-four hours. Nobody leaves until I get back."

The heavy blast doors slammed shut behind him.

The guards in black suits stepped forward in unison, blocking my path. "Ma'am, please come with us."

I looked at the empty doorway. I kicked a piece of melting ice with the tip of my shoe.

Just one day.

I survived seven years of hell for him. Now, even one second with him made me sick to my stomach.