No Tears For My Cold Mafia Husband

anniversary, my husba

business

my wedding ring next to his untouched ch

thing the moment his phone buzzed with another crisis from Sophia. A panic attack. A sleepless

hose m

e with a job that's mine, an apartment that's mine, and a name that doesn't belong to him.

acks in his armor. He says he's sorry. He say

oo late, and some pr

r. Now it's his turn to wo

out a woman who refused to be second choice, a

pte

ian'

g anniversary, my husband receiv

ad passed down. The champagne chilling in the silver bucket. Dominic Rossi had booked the Avalon Theatre for a

second ph

raceable. It never rang with busine

the Underboss-the man who commanded three hundred soldiers and controlled

already reaching for his jacket. "

ask who

ph

hreatenin

de." He wouldn't meet

tood. "It's ou

ed my face, and pressed a kiss to my foreh

murmured. "Late supper at

clicked shut, and the silence that

a long time, sta

divorce papers from my satchel, and place

caught the candlelight, throwing sma

I'd been waiting. For a sign. A breaking poi

s that

e I'd packed two week

e city Dominic Rossi wouldn't be caught dead in. The radiator

t friend, the only person in t

sent a

takable. Dominic at a candlelit table at Vianello's, the most exclusive Italian rest

to a clinic. He hadn't be

exact anniversary di

"I'm so sorry, Lil. I followed th

I felt like I'd bee

* I typed bac

red, disappeared

you mean,

on the table. I'm at

coming

the window. Outside, the city glittered-all those lights, a

ime in a year,