After She Walked Away, The Mafia Boss Regretted It

At the Moretti family banquet, Don Cesare Moretti won a two-person package to a private island resort.

The host asked with a teasing grin, "Don Moretti, who are you taking with you?"

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to me.

The crowd began chanting my name, their voices rising with gleeful anticipation.

"Adriana! Adriana!"

My heart hammered against my ribs. I smiled at Cesare, hope blooming warm in my chest.

But Cesare didn't even glance my way. His gaze had drifted past me, settling on his secretary sitting near the front.

His voice was casual, almost indulgent. "Give it to her. The girl's been working late lately. She deserves a break."

His secretary's face went scarlet.

Those soldiers paused for just a beat—then someone shouted, "The Don is so thoughtful," and the laughter swelled again, smoothing over the moment.

My best friend Bianca leaned in, whispering through clenched teeth, "We planned to get married together on the island this year. How could he forget something like that?"

I smiled and forced back the tears. Then I reached over and straightened her collar.

"Don't worry. The plan stays. The wedding happens."

Then I called my father and said yes to the family arrangement.

I would marry the Don of the Romanov family—Cesare's biggest rival.

If Cesare didn't want to marry me, that was fine. I'd just find myself another groom.

Cesare stepped off the stage with that lazy, unhurried grace of his.

Everyone watched him quietly, their eyes trailing his every movement.

When he passed his secretary Clara's seat, he paused.

He handed her the brown envelope. The resort voucher was inside. A half-smoked cigar dangled from the corner of his mouth.

His smile held that lazy, almost indulgent warmth.

"Take it," he said.

Clara's face lit up. Her pretty mouth curved into something surprised and delighted.

She tried to look modest, but her hands were already reaching for the envelope, clutching it to her chest like he'd handed her a crown.

She stood up immediately. Her voice carried through the room, bright and teasing.

"Thank you, Don Moretti! You're always thinking of me—I don't even know how to thank you!"

She gave him an exaggerated, playful bow that made a few people chuckle.

Then she straightened up, paused for effect, and shot him a sly look that seemed innocent on the surface but carried something sharper underneath.

"But I don't really have anyone to go with," she said. "Why don't you come with me?"

The air in the room froze for half a heartbeat, and then a few people laughed in a low, knowing way.

Beside me, Bianca shot to her feet. I grabbed her wrist and yanked her back down into her seat, then forced an easy smile onto my face.

"Easy." I comforted her. "Don't be so impulsive. Cesare won't say yes."

And then I heard Cesare's reply, warm and full of amusement.

"Depends on your work performance," he said.

I froze, wondering if I had heard him correctly.

"Yes, sir!" Clara gave an exaggerated salute, and the room dissolved into laughter.

Even Cesare cracked a genuine smile at that. He patted her shoulder like she was a puppy who had done a cute trick, and then he started walking toward me.

"What the hell!" Bianca hissed, barely managing to stay in her seat. "She's playing innocent because she's younger. Is she really that clueless, or is she doing this on purpose to provoke you?"

Her chest was heaving with anger, and her eyes had already grown wet with frustrated tears.

"The four of us have been together for eight years," she continued, her voice low and furious. "On your eighteenth birthday, we all pinky swore that we would have a four-person wedding together on that island. Enzo and I already set our date. Is Cesare really that oblivious? Did he just forget? And now he's giving the prize to his secretary?"

I put my hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Sit still," I said. "Don't get worked up."

Bianca didn't say anything else, but she refused to look at me. She just stared off to the side with that stubborn sheen of tears still glazing her eyes.

Cesare sat back down beside me, and he must have noticed something was wrong from my expression or Bianca's rigid posture.

He smiled, the one that always made it impossible for me to stay angry at him for long.

He took my hand and ran his thumb slowly over my ring finger.

"The island isn't anything special," he said quietly. "It's full of tourists everywhere. Once the family business settles down at the end of the year, I'll take you to Fiji instead. They say the water there is the most beautiful in the world—clear, warm, and impossibly blue. Believe me, you would love it."

Listening to his promise, I didn't feel particularly excited.

Deep down, what I longed for more than any trip was our wedding—the one we had talked about but never seemed to get any closer to.

Quietly, I pulled my hand back, disappointment washing over me.

"No need," I said flatly. "You have more than enough to keep you busy."

He blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard by my cold response.

For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then he let out a soft, awkward chuckle and slowly withdrew his hand.

On my left, Bianca had her phone out, and her thumbs were flying across the screen. She leaned over to me and spoke in a low voice.

"Enzo is giving a speech in a minute," she said. "I'll have him remind Cesare about the wedding."

I gave her a grateful smile and nodded.

A small spark of hope flickered in my chest. Mayb there was still a chance that Cesare would agree to our wedding.