A cold, hollow laugh escaped my lips, the sound swallowed by the empty penthouse.
I was the one deemed out of bounds. I was his secret. And now, I was pregnant at the same time as his lawful wife.
I did not sleep.
The next morning, I dressed with meticulous care. I applied my makeup with a steady hand, a practiced ritual of masking the exhaustion and the devastation that had taken root behind my eyes.
I ordered a driver to take me to Xander's underground combat training compound.
The massive concrete facility was hidden beneath a legitimate shipping warehouse. As my car pulled up to the private entrance, I saw the vehicles parked outside.
One was a black Rolls-Royce-Xander's car.
Next to it sat a Rolls-Royce painted an obnoxious shade of custom pink. I stared at the garish finish, a deep furrow forming between my brows. Xander detested such ostentatious displays within his inner sanctum. I wondered what sort of newcomer would dare to park such an eyesore beside the heir's vehicle.
I pushed past the heavy steel doors and walked down the dimly lit corridor toward the main training mats.
The sharp, rhythmic sound of flesh hitting padding echoed off the concrete walls.
I stopped at the edge of the viewing area.
Xander was standing in the center of the mat, his hands intimately correcting a young woman's combat stance. His hands lingered on her waist, guiding her hips with a sickening familiarity that made my stomach clench.
The woman turned her head to wipe sweat from her brow.
The blood in my veins seemed to turn to slush.
It was Gianna.
My hand instinctively went to my left arm. I traced the fine wool of my sleeve, pressing over the vicious, permanent scar carved into my flesh.
Five years ago, Gianna was a scrawny orphan. Her family's smuggling warehouse had been burned to ash by rivals. She had been left unprotected in the underworld.
I had found her cornered in a dark, rain-slicked alley by cartel thugs.
I had thrown myself over her trembling body. I had taken a thug's jagged blade to my arm to shield her face. I had soaked the pavement in my own blood so she could survive with only scratches.
Afterward, she knelt by my hospital bed for three days, weeping and swearing eternal loyalty.
Her family's smuggling routes had been pried open with my gold; the proposal to rebuild her black market operations had sat on my desk; even her introduction to Xander had been purchased with the currency of my position as his fiancée, forcing him to take her under his wing.
Xander had initially refused to train an outsider, but I coaxed him into it.
I watched them now, a bitter taste filling my mouth. I remembered how he had voluntarily extended her training hours. He had taught her the Famiglia's guarded execution techniques.
With his backing, the rivals who had burned her warehouse were systematically slaughtered. Gianna had risen to power almost overnight.
We had shared a private celebration in this very room. Gianna had raised a crystal glass of champagne and tearfully claimed I was her savior.
I never imagined her ultimate gratitude would be to crawl into my husband's bed.
