Two years into my marriage with Don Dante, my ex came back. Julian, the man who shattered my heart five years ago.

He announced he was getting engaged. And he wanted me as his mistress.

"I know I hurt you," he said. "My family looks down on mob ties. It was never going to work. But now? I'm marrying Tiffany. I'm taking over the family empire. I can finally afford to keep you."

I just sneered at him.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might be married?"

He scoffed.

"What decent family would have you? The daughter of a mob underboss? Don't be ridiculous."

His arrogance made me sick.

When I refused, he slapped a black card on the table. Told me to buy whatever I wanted.

He said he'd pick me up next week. That we could spend every weekend tangled up in his bed.

I spat on the floor at his feet. "Get him out," I told my guard. "And take his trash with him."

He didn't get it. Not then. But he would. The moment he found out who I married.

I didn't just marry anyone. I married the king of the Chicago underworld.

A man he could never touch.

And when he finally figured it out, he lost his goddamn mind.

Two years into my marriage with Don Dante, my ex reappeared. Julian heir to an East Coast dynasty, he was finally coming into his fortune.

Now he thought he could finally afford me.

What he didn't know? I belonged to someone he could never afford to cross.

That voice. Julian's. It cut through the quiet of the garden.

"Sera, I know you're in there."

I was pruning roses. The sound of his voice almost made me snip my own finger.

How did he get in?

Through the glass, I saw him standing before the black rose bushes. Perfect suit. Not a hair out of place. Exactly like the night he broke me.

We dated in secret.

I didn't know he was an Astor, heir to an East Coast fortune.

He didn't know my father was the Moretti underboss. He swore he loved me.

Over and over. Until his family found out who I was. Old money doesn't mix with the mob.

A week later, pictures of him kissing some princess splashed across the society pages.

When I confronted him, he told me she was worthy of his name. I wasn't.

I was dead inside.

Then Dante came for me. The Don who’d always watched over me. He pursued me. Relentlessly.

And he won.

Now, seeing the man who betrayed me...

All I felt was disgust.

"We need to talk." He turned. His blue eyes filled with a sickening confidence.

I pushed open the greenhouse door. "Talk about what? How did you get in?"

"I bribed a guard." He shrugged. Like it was nothing. "That's not important. What's important is, I need to tell you—"

"Get out."

"Just listen." Julian took a step closer. "I'm getting engaged to Tiffany. Next month."

I laughed. "Congratulations."

"It's just duty, Sera. A family arrangement." His voice dropped to that familiar, velvet purr. The one he always used when he wanted something from me. "My feelings for you haven't changed. You know that, right?"

"What do I know?"

"I love you." He reached for my face, but I pulled back. "Tiffany is just a marriage. You—you're my true love."

True love?

I almost laughed out loud.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might be married?"

Julian scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Who would have you?"

His words turned my blood to ice.

"Think about it," Julian started pacing, like he was giving a business pitch. "You're impulsive, stubborn, and you don't know the rules of high society. Worse, you come from the mob. Besides me, who else would possibly want you?"

I watched him, letting him perform.

"And your family's situation now—" He shook his head, a mask of fake sympathy on his face. "I heard your father's operation has been struggling since he stepped down as underboss. You need me, Sera. Just like old times."

"Used to?"

Julian walked over to the black roses, stroking a petal.

"I planted these for you, remember? Black roses. For your black hair."

He turned back, a strange glint in his eye.

"You kept them. For two years, you kept them. What does that tell you?"

I didn't answer.

"It means you still love me," he announced. "It means you were waiting for me to come back."

"Julian—"

"I know I was wrong to break up with you," he cut me off. "But that was my father's decision, not mine. It's different now. I have my own business, my own fortune. I can give you everything you want."

He pulled a key from his pocket.

"The key to a penthouse in Manhattan. Your new home."

"I don't need it."

"Of course you do." Julian walked toward me. "You can't keep living in this rundown estate. The penthouse has a rooftop terrace, a private elevator, and—"

"I said I don't need it."

Julian stopped, a wounded look on his face. "Sera, don't be like this. I know you're still angry, but I'll make it right. We can all be happy."

All happy?

Who the hell did this arrogant bastard think he was?

"You think you can have us both?"

"It's not about having us both," Julian corrected. "It's reality. I need Tiffany's family to secure my position. But I need you to fill my heart. It's the best arrangement for everyone."

I stared at him, at the absolute entitlement in his eyes.

Two years, and he hadn't changed a bit.

Still selfish. Still arrogant. Still thought the world revolved around him.

"I'll have my lawyers draw up a contract," he continued. "You'll be set for life."

"You'll need to be discreet, of course. We can't have any trouble. But you're good at that. You always were good at knowing your place."

Knowing my place?

I grabbed the pruning shears next to me and hurled them at him.

"Get the hell out of my sight!"

The shears hit the dirt at his feet, spraying soil and petals over his expensive shoes.

He flinched, but the smirk never left his face.

"There's that fire." He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his lapel. "God, I missed this."

Old days?

I wanted to throw every pair of shears in this garden at his head.

"This is what I miss—your spark." He stepped toward me. "Tiffany is so boring. A doll. But you—"

"Enough."

"You're jealous of her, aren't you?" Julian's gaze softened. "You don't need to be. You know your place in my heart."

He pulled a velvet box from his pocket.

"This is for you."

I didn't take it.

Julian opened it himself. A diamond necklace glittered inside, blinding me.

"Limited edition Harry Winston," he said proudly. "Only three in the world."

"Take it away."

"Sera, stop being childish." A hint of annoyance crept into his voice. "I know you're upset, but we're adults now. I will make everyone happy, trust me."

I turned my back on him. And walked away.

"I'll send a car for you in a week!" he yelled after me. "Don't keep me waiting!"

I slammed the door.

Bastard.

The next day, I sent the necklace to the biggest charity auction in Chicago.

"List the donation under the Moretti family," I told the manager.

The man's face went white.

"The, uh... M-Moretti family?"

"That's the one," I smiled sweetly. "And make sure the story gets out. Someone tried to put a price on the Don's wife. In our world, that mistake gets you a one-way ticket to the bottom of Lake Michigan."

The manager nodded frantically, sweat dripping onto the auction list.

A week later, at the opera.

I was in Dante's private box, watching the second act of La Traviata.

On stage, the soprano was singing Violetta's aria about love and sacrifice.

Too bad for her. I'd learned my lesson about sacrifice. I wasn't making that mistake again.

During intermission, I got up to use the restroom.

The moment I stepped out of the box, I heard a familiar voice.

"Sera?"

I turned.

Julian was standing in the corridor, dressed to the nines, with a blonde on his arm.

Tiffany Vanderbilt.

She was even prettier in person.

Pearl earrings, an emerald necklace. She looked like a perfect Barbie doll.

"What a coincidence." That arrogant smile spread across Julian's face again. "You're here for the opera, too?"

"Yes."

"Sera, you shouldn't have," he whispered, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. "Following me? It's a little desperate. A bad look for you."

Following him?

I almost laughed.

"Well, since we're here—" Julian turned to the woman beside him. "Tiffany, this is Seraphina. An old friend of mine."

Old friend?

Tiffany extended a delicate, manicured hand. "A pleasure. Julian has told me so much about you."

"Has he now?"

"Oh, yes," Tiffany's smile was pure ice. "All about your... history together. Such a sweet friendship."

Friendship.

Julian cleared his throat. "Since you've met, maybe you two should get acquainted. After all, soon—"

"Soon what?" I cut him off.

"Soon we'll all be family," Tiffany chirped. Her voice was pure poison, coated in sugar. "I'm about to be Mrs. Astor. As Julian's old friend, that makes you a friend of the family."

Mrs. Astor.

She stressed the name, staking her claim.

"What a lovely picture," I said with a smile. "But I think—"

"You think what?" Tiffany tilted her head like a curious little bird.

I glanced at my guards.

"Shut her up."

They moved as one.

Tiffany's face went white. She scrambled behind Julian.

"Sera!" Julian snapped. "What are you doing?"

"Just kidding." I waved a hand, and the guards stepped back.

Julian's face was tight with anger as he shielded Tiffany.

"You're still a savage, Sera," he hissed, his tone dripping with condescension. "No manners. No class. When will you ever learn?"

Tiffany put a hand to her chest. A perfect picture of shock.

"Oh, Julian, I'm sure Seraphina was just joking." Her voice trembled, but her eyes were sizing me up. "Right, darling?"

She took a step closer, a perfect socialite smile plastered on her face.

"I've actually been wanting to meet you. Julian said you have a lot of… personality."

Personality.

Another one of those condescending words.

"But—" Tiffany paused, her gaze sweeping over my entire outfit. "I think we could be great friends."

She unclasped a diamond bracelet from her own wrist.

"Here. A little gift." She held it out. "It's Tiffany & Co. Limited edition. Much more appropriate for the setting, don't you think?"

Appropriate for the setting?

I glanced down at my black silk gown. The cut was perfect.

But she wasn't looking at my dress.

Her eyes were locked on the simple silver chain around my wrist.

"I just think you might need something... a little more sparkly," Tiffany's smile grew sweeter. "This is the opera, after all. Everyone dresses up."

More sparkly.

She was saying I looked cheap.

"She has a point," Julian added, his eyes narrowing. "That piece of junk is beneath you."

Junk?

My blood ran cold.

What did he just say?

My breath caught. That "junk" was forged from a bullet casing. The first life Dante ever took to protect his family—to protect me. Engraved on the inside were two words: Mio Angelo.

My Angel.

"Just take her gift," Julian said, reaching for my wrist. "This cheap trinket doesn't belong on you."

"Don't touch it." I stepped back.

"Sera, stop being so stubborn." His tone was impatient. "I know money is tight for you right now, but that's no excuse. You can't wear trash like this to a formal event."

Trash?

"Here, let me help you."

He reached out again, grabbing my wrist.

"Let go of me!"

"It'll just take a second." Julian yanked hard at the silver bracelet. "You'll like the diamonds, trust me."

"I said, let go!"

The clasp snapped.

It fell to the marble floor with a faint clink.

He didn't even look down. He just stepped on it.

A sharp crack echoed on the marble floor. A sound that broke something deep inside me.

The entire hallway went still.

I knelt and picked up the mangled bracelet.

The clasp was broken, the chain twisted. The Italian words were now a blur.

"Look at you, getting all worked up," Julian said, dismissing it. "It's just a cheap bracelet. I'll buy you something better."

I slowly stood up.

Julian was adjusting his cufflinks, completely oblivious to the murder in my eyes.

"Speaking of which," he said, his eyes flashing with a sudden, ugly jealousy. "Who's the poor bastard who gave you this trash? Your new boyfriend?"

New boyfriend.

"Don't tell me you downgraded to one of your father's bodyguards," Julian sneered. "Sera, when did your standards drop so low?"

Little bodyguard.

"Or—" his voice turned venomous. "Have you really fallen that far?"

Tiffany was beside him, pretending to be concerned. "Julian, don't say that..."

He leaned in, his voice a low, venomous growl. "So tell me, Seraphina. Who is the fucking nobody who gave you this piece of trash?"