The Don Broke His Vows. I Broke His Rules

Three days after my father died, my husband, Don Dante Vitale, finally tore himself away from his round-the-world trip with his first love and came home. I'd handled my father's cremation and funeral arrangements alone. When Dante came back, I ignored him. Dante, who was used to having men fall into step behind him, followed me as I greeted the friends and family who'd come to pay their respects. Several times, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but I pretended not to notice. After the service, his hand closed around mine, stopping me before I could move away. "We need to talk." I looked at him. "I booked a flight back three days ago. But Bianca had an episode. I couldn't just abandon a cancer patient." I thought about all the photos Bianca had been sending me of their vacation together over the past three months. Furious, I yanked my hand out of his. "Then answer me this. Why did you pull my father's neurosurgeon, Dr. Ricci, off his case to treat Bianca's mother?" He went still for a beat. Then his gaze hardened. "Who told you that?" Who had told me? Bianca, of course. She'd come to gloat about it the very day my father died. One call from Dante was all it had taken to have my father's specialist reassigned. He'd promised at our wedding to protect my family. When my father needed him, he'd taken his doctor away. He adjusted his cuff. "I'll have my people arrange a plot at Woodlawn. The best one available. Your father will have a proper burial." "No, thank you," I said coldly. Our future together had ended the moment he'd taken away the specialist who could have saved my father. … His jaw tightened. "I didn't think it would end like this." "When I made the call, Bianca's mother was in worse shape than your father. That's the only reason—" "And now?" I cut him off, my voice shaking. "Then tell me. Who died? Her mother or my father?" His expression hardened with impatience. "I said I'd make it up to you. Bianca's a cancer patient. She begged me. How was I supposed to turn her down?" He leaned closer and looked me in the eye. "Audrey. I've explained my decision. That's enough." Looking at him, I couldn't see the man who'd loved me seven years ago anymore. He couldn't bear to say no to Bianca, but he could sacrifice my father's life and leave me to handle the funeral alone. I took a step back. "Fine. I get it. You can leave now." His eyes narrowed. "You're coming with me." "No. I'm staying here with my father tonight. You're not family. There's no reason for you to be here." He caught my wrist and pulled me toward the waiting car. One of his men opened the passenger door. I struggled against Dante's grip, but the man kept his eyes lowered. "What are you doing—" The locks clicked. "You've been running on fumes for three days. You'll collapse. You're going home to sleep." By the time the car started moving, I'd stopped fighting. After three days, I was exhausted. On the drive home, his phone kept lighting up on the center console. It was Bianca. "You're not going to pick up? Bianca seems frantic." He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Then he answered the call right in front of me. "It's okay. Don't blame yourself. Her father's death wasn't your fault. You don't owe anyone an apology." His voice was gentle as he patiently comforted his first love. It was as though I wasn't sitting beside him, his wife, who'd just lost her father because of him. I swallowed hard and fought back tears. He hadn't offered me a single word of comfort since leaving the chapel. They talked the whole way home. I turned toward the window, remembering the honeymoon he'd finally rescheduled for us three months earlier. The night before we were supposed to leave, I'd been too happy to sleep. Then at JFK, the agent at the check-in counter told me there was no reservation in my name. "That can't be right. Could you check again?" She did. "I'm sorry, ma'am. The ticket was canceled a week ago." I was still standing there, dazed, when Dante appeared. Bianca followed him, looking pale and frail. He put a hand on my shoulder. He spoke gently, but his words hurt. "Bianca's always wanted to go. We made a promise back in high school. I can't break it. Wait for me at home, Audrey." I watched them walk through security and disappear. The terminal was bright and crowded, but I'd never felt so alone. When I snapped out of the memory, we were already home. The iron gates of the Vitale estate swung open before us. Beyond the guardhouse, the mansion stood at the end of the drive, its windows lit. I'd lived there for seven years. Looking at it now, I felt nothing. In three days, I'd leave him and this marriage behind.