Her car arrived too.I recognized it immediately. It was Reese's private car.He never let anyone else ride in it. Even I, his wife, rarely had that privilege.She tapped lightly on the window and crooked a finger playfully at whoever was inside."Emily, you're still such a brat!"A hand pulled her into the car, possessive and indulgent at once.My driver, Charles Bennett, opened my door, but I did not move.Reese Moretti and I had been married for five years.He was the Don the Mafia feared and respected. His men obeyed him without question, and so did I.With Emily, however, he looked like a gentle, attentive boyfriend.Emily reached one arm out the window and casually tossed an old ring onto the pavement.The car sped away and vanished from sight.I stared at the ring rolling across the ground as cold spread through me.On our anniversary the year before, I had found that ring in Reese's pocket and could barely contain my excitement.But he had gotten the size wrong. It would not sl
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