The Mafia Queen Called Off the Wedding

I stayed calm. Only my voice went cold. "I grew up eating handmade pasta. You like steak and potatoes. Your tastes are set." "For eight years, I ate potatoes with you almost every day, just to accommodate you." "But you never once accommodated me." "Adrian, love like this is too unbalanced." His face hardened. He had no intention of giving an inch. "You think love is a transaction?" "In these eight years, have I ever stopped you from eating pasta? Have I ever forced you not to eat it?" "And I never forced you to eat potatoes with me either." "You like pasta, eat pasta. I like potatoes, I eat potatoes. Why does one person have to force the other?" "What does forcing me to eat it prove?" "If I didn't love you, would I have stayed with you for eight years? Would I be planning to marry you?" I let out a cold laugh. "You're right. You never forced me." "I was the stupid one. It was my own one-sided choice to accommodate you for eight years." He could tell my mood was off. His tone finally softened a few degrees. "That's not what I meant." "It's your birthday. I don't want to fight with you." "Calm down for now. I'll make it up to you another day." With that, he walked to the study without looking back. I finished the plate of birthday pasta alone. On my way to the bedroom, I passed the study and heard him on the phone with Victor. "I had pasta with Chloe twice during the day. Two full plates. I honestly can't eat any more." "Bella's a little unhappy. Have your wife help me smooth things over with her." I stopped in the doorway. Through the phone, Victor said, "This is nothing. Just sweet-talk her yourself. Didn't you say Bella's the easiest person in the world to win over?" Adrian sounded exhausted. "I don't feel like it. No energy, and no time." "I promised Chloe I'd play games with her tonight." No energy to comfort me. But plenty of energy to play games with his assistant. This was the result of eight years of loving him with everything I had. Back in the bedroom, I sent a directive to the Moretti family's legal team. Transfer my permanent office back home. I'd spent sixteen years studying away from home, and eight years building my career on the East Coast. Now, I wanted to go home. Back to where I truly belonged.

The next morning at the office, I realized a port contract had been left in Adrian's briefcase. That document was tied to one of the Moretti family's legitimate shipping lines. I had to get it back. I went to Black Group headquarters. When I pushed open the door to Adrian's office, he and Chloe were sitting side by side at his desk, sharing a plate of tomato pasta. He picked an egg off his plate and placed it on hers. "You like eggs. Here." Chloe smiled, sweet as sugar. "I'm so lucky to have met such a wonderful man." My presence shattered the intimate atmosphere. A flicker of panic crossed Adrian's eyes. "What are you doing here?" "My document ended up in your briefcase." My voice was low, but cold enough. I walked to his desk. He forced himself to stay composed, pulled the document from his briefcase, and handed it to me. I glanced at his plate — half the pasta already gone — then looked up at him. "You really do love pasta." Chloe jumped in immediately, her voice so soft it could shatter. "Bella, please don't misunderstand. This is all my fault..." "Did I speak to you?" I cut her off. Her mouth snapped shut. Her eyes turned red almost instantly, as if she'd just suffered the gravest injustice imaginable. And that was the moment I saw exactly how fiercely Adrian protected her. "Don't blow a small thing out of proportion." He said that to me, then gently told Chloe to step out. Chloe walked past me in her stilettos. I looked down. The black pointed-toe heels on her feet were mine. They were my first pair of designer heels — a birthday gift from Nina three years ago. I raised my arm and blocked Chloe's path. "Miss Reed, stealing someone's man may not technically be a crime, but stealing their belongings is a different story." "Bella, what do you mean? Is there some kind of misunderstanding?" The words barely left her mouth before the tears started falling, as though I'd just humiliated her in public. Adrian immediately pulled her behind him, shielding her. "Bella! What the hell are you talking about?" "Apologize to Chloe." In eight years, I had never once lost my temper with him. I went along with everything, so we almost never argued, never even raised our voices at each other. Now, watching him bark at me to defend a woman he'd known less than six months, he suddenly felt like a stranger. Like I had never truly known him at all. Chloe stood behind him, wearing an expression of delicate, wounded thoughtfulness. "Bella, please don't be angry. It was thoughtless of me — I had no sense of boundaries." "I made you jealous and caused a misunderstanding. I'll be more careful in the future." Adrian's voice was sharp with impatience. "It's just a plate of pasta. Is this really necessary?" My heart felt numb with cold. "So it's not that you don't like pasta. You just hadn't met the person you wanted to eat it with." "I just didn't want to turn down her kindness." I laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "Didn't want to turn down her kindness. So instead, you turned down the woman who invited you to eat pasta for eight years." His face darkened further. "Are you seriously making a federal case out of this with an outsider?" I looked at him, my voice even colder. "She's the outsider? I'm pretty sure I'm the outsider here." "What has gotten into you today? You're jealous over something this petty?" I pointed at the shoes on Chloe's feet. "You brought her to our home. You let her wear my shoes." "Adrian, I've been too good to you for eight years. That's what made you think you could trample my dignity underfoot." Adrian froze for a second, then looked down at Chloe's shoes. He recovered quickly. "Those shoes — I gave them to her as a reward." "She had a strong quarter. You're mistaken. They're not yours." "And Chloe would never take someone else's things without permission." Chloe immediately bent down to remove the shoes, tears falling even faster. "Bella, I wasn't thinking. I caused a misunderstanding." "Please don't be upset. I'll take them off." Emotions churned inside my chest. In eight years with Adrian, he had never once picked out a gift for me with his own hands. Not once. All he ever gave me was an account card, telling me to buy whatever I liked. I used to complain that he wasn't romantic, that he never gave me gifts. Every single time, he'd say, "The money's all yours. Buy whatever you want." "I don't know how to pick things women like." So it wasn't that he didn't know how. He just didn't care enough to try for me. "The floor is cold. Put them back on." When Adrian spoke to Chloe, his voice was full of concern. I looked at the shoes, ice in my gaze. "Every pair from that brand has a unique code on the inside." "The pair Nina gave me has the code 8888." I looked at Adrian. "Don't tell me the pair you supposedly gave her just happens to have the same code." Chloe picked up the shoe by her right foot and checked the code inside. The next second, she cried even harder. "I'm sorry, Bella. A couple of days ago, Boss had too much to drink, and I took him home." "I didn't realize I'd put on the wrong shoes. It was careless of me. I'm so sorry." I looked at her pathetic little act, and there wasn't an ounce of warmth in my voice. "An apology won't cut it. You wore my shoes. I won't be taking them back." "Pay me. Ninety-eight thousand." She froze, then looked to Adrian for help. Adrian spoke up immediately. "It's just a pair of shoes. I'll pay you back." "Don't make things hard for the girl. She didn't mean to." And with that, he transferred a hundred thousand to me.

In the six months since Chloe started working for Adrian, I'd met her a few times. Every time, she greeted me respectfully — "Bella" this, "Bella" that — playing the part of a well-mannered, sensible young woman. I used to think she was just an ordinary girl. Now I knew she was very good at pretending. I had barely stepped out of the Black Group building when Chloe called out from behind me. "Bella." I stopped. She hurried to catch up, that hollow sweetness plastered across her face. "There are some things you might not have the full picture on. I'd like to explain." "No need." I turned to leave. But she stepped in front of me, as if what she had to say couldn't wait. "I'm only thinking of what's best for you. Maybe this will help you handle things with Boss." She knew full well that I was the Boss. Yet she called me "Bella" and called Adrian "Boss." I looked at her and said nothing. She went on. "The truth is, Boss doesn't dislike pasta. When he's with me, he eats every kind." "Handmade beef-shank pasta, seafood pasta, pasta from little hole-in-the-wall places, instant pasta, spicy pasta." "So many kinds. He's had them all with me." "Pasta is like people, you know? It has to feel fresh, or you lose your appetite." Everything she said was designed to imply that I was no longer fresh enough. A cold smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "What exactly are you trying to say? That you're the fresh plate of pasta he can't get enough of?" Chloe waved her hand with exaggerated innocence. "That's not what I mean. I'm just saying — he doesn't want to eat pasta with you, and the reason is something worth thinking about." "Oh, and this afternoon, Boss and I are flying to Miami for a three-day business trip." She paused, then added deliberately. "Honestly, it's nothing he needs to handle in person. But Boss is such a good man." "He found out I've never been to Miami, so he's taking me along. Said he wants to show me the fireworks over Biscayne Bay." Her eyes held the brazen confidence that only comes from being someone's favorite. She was waiting for me to rage, to lose control, to make a scene. But I looked at her the way you look at a clown. "This good man of yours — enjoy him." I turned around again. She chased after me and blocked my path, finally dropping the act. "Since you've already figured it out, I'll stop pretending." "Those shoes — I wore them on purpose." "I'm already using your man, so of course I can use your things too." "Oh, and that box of condoms in your bedside drawer? Not great. The ones Adrian uses with me are rose-scented." "He can go for over two hours with me every time." "Your bed isn't very comfortable either. Not as nice as the million-dollar mattress he bought for mine." Blood rushed to the top of my skull. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. Hard. "Disgusting." "Bella!" Adrian's shout rang out almost at the same instant. He rushed over and shielded Chloe, whose face was still turned from the impact. Chloe immediately grabbed onto him, putting on her gracious, understanding mask. "Boss, don't be upset. Bella just heard that we're going to Miami for three days and got a little unhappy." "She's probably worried it'll interfere with your wedding trip in five days." Adrian looked at me with open displeasure, as though making me a promise. "I'll be back before the wedding trip." "It absolutely won't affect our plans." "Stop being unreasonable. Apologize to Chloe." I found it laughable. So I raised my hand and slapped him too. "What makes you think I still want you?"