My Mafia Husband Leaked My Intimate Photos So I Ended Our MarriageChapter 1

On our wedding night, Dante holds me against him and plays a video of himself with another woman.

Her voice is sickeningly sweet.

Dante looks down at me. "You sound so forced, baby. You're not nearly as uninhibited as she is. You could learn a few things from her."

"See how much I love you? I even got some practice in before the wedding."

Near the end of the video, Dante tosses a stack of photographs onto the bed and runs a hand over the woman's bare back.

"You've been very good this month. Consider these your bonus."

Then I see the photographs.

They're of me.

Private pictures Dante talked me into letting him take.

Now he's giving them to another woman as a reward.

His phone rings, interrupting the video. When he answers, I recognize her voice.

I shove away from him and barely make it to the bathroom before I'm sick.

Dante frowns at me, then turns toward the door, phone in hand.

"If you're not feeling well, stay home and watch. You might learn something."

"I'm spending tonight with Bianca."

The bedroom door opens and closes.

I look at the rose petals scattered across our bed.

A laugh slips out before I can stop it.

I want out of this marriage.

My phone rings before I've even changed out of the silk robe I bought for tonight.

Dante.

For a moment, I watch his name light up the screen.

Then I answer.

Bianca is laughing in the background.

"Tell her," she says.

Dante sounds amused.

"Still awake, Elena?"

"Delete the pictures."

He pauses.

"What?"

"The ones you gave her."

"Is that all you can think about?"

I grip the edge of the bed.

"You promised no one else would see them."

"And you promised to trust me."

I pull the phone away from my ear.

"Hang up," he says, "and I'll send them to people who don't know how to keep their mouths shut."

My hand stops.

He waits until I bring the phone back.

"Good."

Ten years.

I've known his voice for ten years.

I've heard him angry with employees, cold with rivals, impatient with men who owe him money.

Until tonight, I never thought he would speak to me like this.

Dante De Luca is the Don of his family.

People lower their voices when he enters a room.

I thought I was the person he came home to when he was tired of being feared.

Bianca says something I can't make out.

His tone changes as he answers her.

Then he speaks to me again.

"I'm sending you a list. Pick it up and bring it here."

A message appears.

Pain relievers. A cold pack. A few other things from a pharmacy.

Then an address.

"You have people who can do that."

"I'm asking you."

"No."

The silence lasts long enough for me to hear rain striking the windows.

"Your mother has six trucks scheduled at our warehouse Monday morning," he says.

"Don't."

"That contract hasn't been signed."

"She's already hired drivers."

"Then you should get moving."

My father died when I was fifteen.

For years afterward, Mom kept Marino Logistics alive one shipment at a time. She learned the routes, dealt with breakdowns, and sat at the kitchen table after midnight deciding which bills could wait.

Dante's family became her biggest client three years ago.

He called it an investment in our future.

Yesterday, while the seamstress adjusted my dress, Mom caught my hand.

"You can always come home."

I laughed.

She didn't.

"I mean it, Elena. Whatever happens with the company, you come first."

Now I stare at the pharmacy list.

"You wouldn't do that to her."

"Try me."

He hangs up.

I sit still for a moment.

Then I change into jeans and a sweater.

The first car I request cancels.

The second takes fifteen minutes to reach the house. By then, water is running down the front steps.

The driver waits while I go into the pharmacy.

When I come back out, Dante has sent another message.

One hour, Elena.

Traffic barely moves.

I watch the minutes change on my phone.

By the time we reach Bianca's townhouse, rain is blowing sideways beneath the awning.

I tell the driver he can leave.

All I can think about is handing over the bag and getting away from them.

Dante opens the door before I ring a second time.

His shirt is unbuttoned at the collar.

He looks at the bag in my hand.

Then at his watch.

"Five minutes late."