Chapter 1

Eight velvet boxes sat in my drawer. One pigeon-blood ruby for every time Matteo Ferraro had walked out and left me standing somewhere.

Tonight he would make it nine. In the middle of our own wedding.

And his men still thought I was the luckiest woman in the city.

No one bet on when I'd break. They were too busy envying me.

The engagement. The blessing at the chapel. The morning we were supposed to sign the vows. Every time he should have stood beside me, something came up. And he went to her. Serafina.

Today was no different.

I took off my veil. I told the guests to go home. My voice didn't shake. I didn't scream.

There was nothing left in me to break.

Rocco came over, smiling that easy smile. "He'll be back, Donna. You know the boss. Some things only he can handle."

He lowered his voice. Almost reverent. "You have to understand what he owes that woman. Without Serafina, there's no Matteo. Without Matteo, there's no family."

He smiled wider. "And still—you're the one he loves. Eight times he's been called away. Eight times he's come back swearing you'll have the most beautiful wedding this city has ever seen. Half the women here would cut off a hand to stand where you stand."

That was how they saw it. He vanished, and it became proof of how much he loved me.

The more he left, the more they envied me.

Only I knew where he really was. I didn't need anyone to tell me. Three years had taught me. The second his attention turned, I felt it.

Serafina had said the word. He had gone.

My maid of honor took my hand. "Donna, should I have someone call him?"

"No." I walked to the planner's table. "Everyone. The wedding is canceled."

The planner froze. "But Mr. Ferraro said to keep everything running." She glanced at my gown and couldn't help herself. "He spent three months on this dress. He came in every week himself."

Something the stylist said last night came back to me. "Mr. Ferraro asked for the wide cuffs. He said you had a mark on your wrist you didn't want anyone to see."

That mark. I gave it to myself the night of the engagement. The night I finally understood he would never choose me.

I locked the bathroom door. I used a shard of glass.

He remembered the cuff. He never once asked what it hid.

Serafina felt unsafe. He left. Serafina had a bad night. He left. The morning we were to sign the vows, she heard men outside her door. He left anyway.

The reasons changed. The outcome never did.

And every time, before the night was over, the ruby came. A ruby bracelet. Ruby earrings. A blood-red, five-carat pigeon-blood ruby in a velvet box. Each one bigger than the last. A note in his hand. Forgive me. You know there's only you.

His men saw the rubies and saw devotion. I saw the receipt for one more betrayal.

Eleven years ago, the Russos were ambushed. Serafina took a bullet pulling him out. He owed her his life, he said. He couldn't abandon her.

He wanted me to understand. To be gracious. To smile while he left.

For three years, I did. Eight boxes in three years. Tonight he'd send the ninth.

I had nothing left to give.

I scrolled to a number I hadn't touched in three years. My finger hovered a long time. Then I typed.

Were you serious, three years ago?

Sent.

I picked up my skirt and walked to the door.

Behind me, Rocco's voice cracked. "Donna—where are you going? You're the woman he chose. Why would you walk away from that?"

None of them understood. To them, I was leaving heaven.

They had never seen the inside of it.