Page 41 of Mafia King of Lies

I have a million and one questions I want to ask but that one slips forward first.

“Maria Faravelli—my mistake—Davacalli. I hear congratulations are in order, step-mommy.”

The crowd he is with snickers, and the blood rushes to my cheeks.

“We need to talk,” I press him. “Preferably somewhere private.”

“How about no?” He winks at me. “Go find your husband, I’m sure he is missing his shiny little trophy.”

I hate how he speaks to me.

“No.” I stand my ground. “We need to talk, you at least owe me that, since you ran from the altar like a coward.”

“I think it’s best that you leave, Maria,” he says in a bored tone. The woman who hangs off his arm smothers a laugh and my cheeks heat.

Enough of this.

I grab his wrist and the blonde gasps, but I ignore her. “Come.”

Surprisingly, the man allows me to pull him away from his group. The man must have a conscious, after all.

I drag him all the way out of the ballroom with every eye on us. I’m sure this little action of mine will cause a plethora of rumors, but to hell with them. I need closure, and he is the only one who can give me that.

We walk until we come to a secluded corner away from the eyes and ears of the masses. I let go of his wrist and turn to give him my full attention.

“What can I help you with?” He places his hands into his pockets nonchalantly, like he didn’t even do anything.

“You’re kidding, right?” I scoff.

He shrugs, his body language completely relaxed and unbothered.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me? One day everything is great and fine, and the next you leave me at the fucking altar, Daniele. You hurt me.” I stare into his eyes.

All my walls are down and I bare my feelings and vulnerability to him. But I don’t get the same back. The man is nothing more than a blank slate, emotionless.

“I don’t understand what you want here, Maria. An apology? You will never get one out of me. I did what was best for me and my future. The last thing I needed was to be tied to someone like you.” His words pierce me like a knife. “I chose me, and I would have thought you would have the balls to choose yourself. But I should have known you were weak and pathetic.”

“You have some nerve coming at me like that after everything you’ve done,” I grit out through my teeth “I didn’t want to marry you either, but at least I didn’t run with my tail tucked in between my legs like a coward.”

Daniele’s eyes flick to the necklace at my throat before locking on to mine, dark and vengeful in a way I’ve never seen before.

“You shouldn’t even be wearing that necklace. It was my mother’s and my grandmother’s. They were women of true power and formidability. You are nothing more than a meek little waste of space who would be dead within seconds in this world were it not for the Davacalli name.”

The words are a double-edged sword that pierce between my soul and flesh. But it’s not his words that get to me. It’s the hatred in his eyes. But now it also made sense as to why Matteo was being weird about the necklace.

It belonged to his mother first… and then Beatrice. His first wife. His love. The woman whose presence lingers in the wallsof his house, whose ghost still curls up in his bed at night. The woman he still protects, even in death. A woman I can never compete with. My stomach twists. I shouldn’t care. But the sharp sting of bitterness digs its claws into me, unrelenting. Why does it bother me?

Right now, I should be bothered more by how we got to this point and why Daniele left me. Only a few short days ago, there had been light in those irises of his. The caramel brown in his eyes had been molten and warm. I don’t recognize the man who stands before me.

“Why are you being like this?”

He hooks his finger on the diamond-encrusted chain around my neck. “You should take this off. You aren’t even worthy to wear it around your neck.”

I grab his wrist and rip his hold from mine. “I am a Davacalli wife. This necklace belongs to me as much as it did your mother.” The words slip from my lips without intention. But it’s too late to take it all back.

His features contort into a scowl that makes him look all the more dangerous.

“Daniele, I?—”

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