Traded to the Rinaldi Don

I carried my untouched tea away from the corridor outside Marco’s study.

He and my brother had just settled the details. They had chosen the convoy’s departure time, the place where my brother’s men would intercept it, and the story our family would tell about Sofia’s death.

Marco had needed only one sentence to decide what would happen to me afterward. I would live on a private island under another name. He would visit when he could.

He followed me into our bedroom and took the cup from my hands, as he often did.

“Your tea’s gone cold. I’ll have them bring you another.”

He knew I had overheard them, yet his voice remained calm. He spoke as though we were discussing an inconvenient change to our plans.

“Why do I have to go?” I asked.

“The men intercepting the convoy will be armed. Sofia has never been near anything like that. She’d be terrified.” Marco set the cup on the table. “You’ve worked alongside your father for years. You know how to handle yourself.”

I had grown up around guarded cars and tense meetings, but I had never agreed to be used in one of his operations. Marco seemed to think my ability to stay calm meant I would not be afraid.

“So I’m better suited to making everyone believe Sofia is dead?”

His eyes held mine.

“That part is only for the public. Your brother will bring you back safely.”

“And after that?”

He paused. “I’ve found a house for you on a private island. Once this is over, I’ll visit.”

I looked at him. In five years of marriage, Marco had rarely broken a promise to me. He remembered what tea I drank before difficult meetings and knew I disliked bright lights in our bedroom. When he came home late, he always had someone leave a lamp on for me.

I had believed those small acts meant he understood me.

Now he was asking me to give up my name without once asking what I wanted.

Someone knocked. Sofia stood in the doorway, her eyes red. Marco went to her at once and took the nearly full cup from her hands.

“Too bitter?” he asked.

She nodded. “I can’t drink it like this.”

“I’ll have them make another with honey.”

He gave the instruction without asking how much she wanted.

Sofia glanced at me. “I’m sorry, Elena. I know you’re doing this for me.”

Marco rested a hand on her shoulder and told her she had nothing to fear. I suddenly remembered that the tea delivered to my room always contained honey. I had never told anyone I liked it sweet. I had simply assumed Marco had remembered something about me.

After Sofia left, he returned to my side.

“See your parents tomorrow. Your mother wants to finish the arrangements before you leave.”

Outside, headlights moved slowly along the estate’s driveway.

“Have you seen the house you chose for me?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s quiet, and the security is good.”

He described the gates and the guards as though they settled every question. I wondered whether I would be allowed to leave the island without explaining where I was going, or whether even a call to an old friend would put their secret at risk. I did not ask. Marco had already made his decision.

“How often will you come?”

Marco took my hand.

“As long as we’re married, I’ll visit. Elena, I know you love me.”

I looked at him without giving him the answer I always had before.