La Esposa Rechazada Del Cruel Mafioso - Adri Lu... -

I almost laugh. His problem? I've been his problem for three years. The rejected wife. The bargaining chip. The ghost who haunts his hallways, invisible unless needed for a photo op or a family dinner where I must smile and pretend he comes to my bed at night.

I look up at Alessandro. His jaw is clenched. His hands — those hands that have never touched me with kindness — are shaking.

"So what now?" I whisper.

He closes the distance between us. His hand comes up — not to strike, not to push away — but to cup my face. His palm is calloused. Warm. And for the first time in three years, Alessandro Ferraro looks at me like I'm not a receipt. La Esposa Rechazada del Cruel Mafioso - Adri Lu...

"You're in my room," I reply, surprising myself with the steadiness of my voice.

"I don't want you," he says, voice rough. "But I won't let them have you either."

"I have a problem," he says.

Tonight, I'm done counting.

He leans in. His lips hover a breath from mine.

"The Don's rejected wife. So easy to take. So easy to break." I almost laugh

I stood beside him in ivory lace, my hands trembling inside silk gloves, while he signed the mafia contract that bound our families. The wedding was a formality. The real ceremony happened afterward: Alessandro's father, Don Ferraro, shaking my father's hand over a table of illegal arms deals.

Four words. That's already more than his monthly average.

His thumb brushes my cheekbone. Gentle. Almost tender. The rejected wife

"And I am a very cruel man when it comes to what's mine."

"Why?" I breathe.