The Don Lost His Bride To His Greatest Enemy

I was with Don Massimo for five years. The whole time, he never hid his favorite: Cara. His driver’s daughter. The man who took a bullet for him.

He called it paying a debt. Like a fool, I bought it.

He gave her jewels. Fast cars. He even bought her an island.

Three days before the wedding, I found out he'd moved the venue. Not to my family's estate in Sicily. But to the island. Her island.

His excuse? Cara was claustrophobic. Couldn't handle a big indoor wedding.

I was done.

Three days later, the wedding happened on that island. But the bride was a no-show.

Massimo was publicly humiliated. He tore the city apart looking for me.

That’s when he found out. He thought he was marrying me. Instead, I married his greatest enemy. Nikolai Volkov. The Godfather of the Russian Bratva.

He ditched Cara. He ran to my family's estate and waited. Seven days and nights. With flowers, a ring, and a whole lot of begging.

Three days before my wedding, the invitation arrived. The location wasn't my family's estate in Sicily. It was on the island my fiancé bought for his little pet, Cara.

My phone lit up. A new post from Cara.

She posted photos of the island wedding setup. A shot of her and Massimo.

She was in a sexy white dress, clinging to his arm.

Massimo, sharp in his suit. His handsome face practically jumped off the screen.

The caption: [Planning a dream wedding. So happy.]

They looked like the happy couple. Ready for the rest of their lives.

My nose burned. Anger coiled hot in my gut.

I fell for Massimo the first time I saw him. Six years ago, at an auction. I chased him for a year. He wouldn’t budge.

Then my father died unexpectedly. I took over the family. Our shipping lanes. Our real business.

Suddenly, he wanted me. The next day, he announced our engagement.

I didn't care.

As long as I could be with him, what did it matter? Even if he only wanted me for what my family was worth.

Life with Massimo wasn't bad. He was classy, handsome, generous. Even in bed, we were electric.

But he was just as generous with Cara. After he bought her that island, I was sure she could ask for the moon and he’d build a rocket to get it for her.

I got jealous. I got disappointed. And I forgave him. Every. Single. Time.

I was an addict. He was my drug.

When he proposed, I had one condition. It was my father's dying wish. To marry at the Rossi family estate in Sicily.

It’s where our family began. It’s where my father is buried.

Now, he'd ruined it.

I couldn't take it. I drove straight to Massimo. I had to know what the hell he was thinking.

I drove straight to his mansion. As I approached his study, I heard his underboss talking.

"Boss, you changed the venue on the invites. Did it behind Miss Rossi's back. You sure she won't fly off the handle?"

Massimo just laughed. A casual, easy sound. "She’s been obsessed with me for years. She can't wait to scream my name all night. Besides, her family's a wreck. She's all that's left. She can't afford to leave me."

My fists clenched. Eyes burning, I pushed the door open. His smile faltered. Just for a second. Then the arrogant mask was back in place.

"You promised me. Sicily," I said.

My voice was flat. He walked over, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"I wanted to surprise you. An island is more romantic, isn't it?"

"Romantic?" My voice started to shake. "You know that was my father's dying wish. Our family tradition..."

"Traditions change." He dropped his arm, and the warmth in his eyes vanished. Those brown eyes I used to love were now cold with impatience. "Cara gets panic attacks. She can't handle enclosed spaces. The island is open-air. It's for her."

Cara. Always that goddamn name.

"She isn't the one marrying you, Massimo. I am."

"But she's my friend." He walked to the bar. "And she's worked hard planning this wedding."

I watched him pour a whiskey. I felt a dull knife twist in my gut. He must have sensed it. He turned around, his tone like he was talking to a child.

"Caterina. The living matter more than the dead. Stop being so dramatic." His eyes held a kind of pity that made my skin crawl. "The invitations are out. It's done. Remember your place, future Mrs. Caruso."

Just then, his phone rang. The special ringtone for Cara.

He answered instantly. "Cara? What's wrong?" His voice turned soft. "What? Another nightmare? Okay, okay. I'm on my way."

He grabbed his coat. He walked right past me without a glance. "Caterina. Make sure your guests know about the change of venue."

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the sudden, crushing silence. Just the crackle of the fire.

I turned and saw the boxes stacked in the living room.

They were filled with the sacred icons and altar decorations for the estate.

I’d picked out every single piece.

Each one a piece of my hope for this wedding.

Now they were just junk left behind.

Wait. Something was gone. The candles my grandmother gave me.

I tore through the boxes. They were gone.

Just as I was about to ask the housekeeper if all the boxes were here, Massimo came back. He'd forgotten something.

"Right," he said, grabbing his car keys from the table. He didn't even look at me.

"Those candles. Cara said it would be too windy on the island. I had them tossed."