Twin Dons, One Wife, Zero Mercy

I don't remember how I walked away from that VIP room.

All I remember is pushing open the casino's back door. The freezing wind hit me, and snow lashed at my face.

I slipped and hit the ground hard.

My knees slammed into the ice. The pain should have been blinding.

I felt nothing.

I knelt in the snow. The laughter from the room still echoed in my ears.

I bent over and dry-heaved.

Two years ago, after that freak skiing accident, Nico had held my bloodied body tight.

"Scarlett, you don't have to kill yourself curating anymore. I'll take care of you. Forever."

I thought he loved me to death.

Now I knew. I was just a broken bird in a cage. A breeding tool.

He kept me as a pet just to steal my hard work and pave the way for his mistress!

I touched my flat stomach. My lip bled between my teeth.

Nico Russo, you will not get away with this.

I got into my car, wiped away my cold tears, and fired off two texts.

The first to Chicago's most expensive private investigator: "Look into my skiing accident from two years ago again. I want to know who was behind it. Name your price."

The second to a rival European art foundation Nico had always tried to crush: "I accept your co-curator offer. Send the contract."

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

The text glowed on the screen. Nico stayed late for my new exhibition. Isn't today your anniversary? Oops. Sorry.

I clicked on her profile.

It was Bianca.

I met her three months ago at Nico's club. She had walked out of his private booth in a sexy red dress. Nico told me she was just a lost guest.

Liar.

My breath caught at her latest photo.

She was flaunting her curves in a low-cut gown, but the blue diamond necklace was what blinded me.

It was the antique Harry Winston piece Nico bought at Sotheby's last month for eight million dollars.

The press went wild: "Russo Godfather Buys Century Diamond for Beloved Wife."

It was never for me.

Before the grief could set in, another text popped up.

Nico: [Baby, trouble at the docks. I have to handle it myself. Raincheck on our anniversary? I'm sorry.]

I locked my phone, my face blank.

No need to reply.

Back home, the private chef from Alinea had prepared a seven-course meal. Candles flickered. The wine had been breathing for three hours.

The butler stepped forward. "Ma'am, when is the Boss arriving?"

"Trash it," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, throw all of it away."

I went upstairs and threw the red silk dress I bought for tonight straight into the fireplace.

At 1 a.m., Nico finally came home. He walked into the bedroom, bringing a chill and the faint scent of a strange perfume.

He pulled me into his arms with practiced ease and leaned in to kiss me.

I didn't close my eyes. I stared hard at his flawless face.

Was this Nico? Or Marco?

If this was the Nico who swore on his life to protect me, how could he call me baby while shoving me into hell?

My stare unnerved him. He paused, then kissed me harder to hide his guilt.

"Still mad I missed dinner?" He pulled back and took a velvet box from his coat. "Look."

He opened it. A sparkling necklace lay inside.

I froze.

It was a cheap copy of Bianca's necklace. The priceless center diamond was gone. In its place was a tacky rhinestone, set in cheap, gold-plated metal.

He bought me a cheap fake to shut me up. Is that all I meant to him?

"Like it?" He fastened the fake jewelry around my neck.

His hand slid down, stroking my thigh just like he had for the past five years.

He watched my face, waiting for that sweet, obedient smile I always gave him.

He was proud of this sick little power play.

My stomach churned. I shoved him away.

"I feel sick. My head hurts." I turned away from his touch. "Not tonight."

Panic flashed in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone rang.

He checked the screen, his face hardening, and answered it right away.

"I'm on my way."

He hung up and put his coat back on, towering over me. The perfect Mafia Boss once again.

"If you're sick, get some rest. Don't throw a tantrum." He walked to the door and looked back. A flicker of something complex crossed his eyes, like he wanted to hug me.

"I'll go with you to your dress fitting tomorrow. To make up for tonight, I've got a 'surprise' for you."

A surprise? Was he planning to humiliate me more at the bridal shop?

The door shut, and the penthouse fell dead silent.

I ripped the fake necklace off and tossed it into the trash like dirty garbage.

Then I picked up my phone and booked Chicago's top divorce law firm.

The name of the lawyer sounded familiar, but I didn't care.

I had to get a divorce. Fast. I had to get away from these monsters.

I won't be playing a part in their little wedding show in seven days.