Chapter 2
Dante froze for a split second, then let out a scoffing laugh.
“What else? Who do you even think you are? Why the hell would I come see you?”
He cursed under his breath and stormed off, not before tossing one last humiliating remark over his shoulder.
“You’re not even good enough to be my side piece, Lucia. That engagement was nothing but a stupid joke my dad made up when we were kids—did you really fool yourself into believing you’d become Mrs. Costello? That rough, deranged mechanic’s the only trash you’re worthy of.”
I didn’t take a single thing from the Costello manor. All the expensive silk gowns, every piece of fine jewelry, I left them all locked away in that lavish bedroom. I only slipped on a thin, beat-up trench coat—the last possession my mother left me ten years prior.
But I’d forgotten her silver cross necklace, locked away in Dante’s study. It was the last tiny piece of my parents I had left.
When I stood once more outside the manor’s iron gates, New York was buried under a once-in-a-century blizzard. Gales whipped sharp ice shards through the air, slicing my cheeks like razor blades. I pressed the doorbell, and the butler’s cold voice crackled through the intercom: “Miss Lucia, the young master says the Costello household doesn’t welcome outsiders.”
“I only want my mother’s necklace,” I called out, my voice nearly swallowed by the howling wind. “I’ll leave the second I get it, I won’t linger or pester anyone.”
Silence stretched on the other end of the speaker, then Chloe’s syrupy, venomous giggle cut through the static. “Oh honey, Lucia, Dante’s in the shower right now. He said if you really want that worthless little trinket, you can kneel out here in the snow and wait till he’s in a good mood.”
Snow piled thick on my hair as I stared up at the warm yellow glow spilling from the second-floor study window. He was in there, curled up with his new lover beside a crackling fireplace, not willing to crack open a single window for me.
The blizzard worsened by the minute. Numbness crept up my legs, cold seeping through my soles to wrap around my entire body. Sharp, stabbing pains flared in my lungs; every inhale felt like swallowing shards of broken glass.
I never knelt. I stood ramrod straight, an ice sculpture ready to shatter at any moment.
An eternity later, the second-floor window creaked open a sliver. Dante stood there in a bathrobe, staring down at me with sharp irritation etched across his face. He flicked a hand toward someone inside the room.
The heavy oak front gate creaked wide open.
Dante couldn’t resist letting me inside after all.
Warm air crashed over me the second I stepped across the threshold, yet it couldn’t melt the frost frozen deep in my heart. Snow still dusted my shoulders as I crossed the entryway, and Dante’s haughty voice cut through the lingering wind chill, sharp as frostbite:
“Lucia, do you think pulling a stunt like this will soften my heart?”
He leaned back against a leather sofa, a lit cigar pinched between his fingers, his arrogant gaze raking over my shivering frame from head to toe. “If you apologize right now and admit you can’t live without me, I’ll let you stay with the Costellos. You didn’t want to be my mistress, fine—I could make you my personal right hand. You and Chloe can each stick to your own lanes, no interference between either of you. What do you say?”
“In your wildest dreams. Give me back the necklace.” I stared him down, cold and unflinching, no trace of hesitation in my tone.
My unhesitating rejection made Dante’s eyes twitch violently.
He shot to his feet, the thick stench of tobacco rolling off him as he closed in, shoving me hard back against the wall. He lowered his head, his tone dripping with condescension as he hissed cruel words right against my ear:
“Quit putting on this virtuous act. Do you honestly want to run off and play wife to that lunatic mechanic? Chloe’s pregnant now, and I’ve got all this sexual tension with no outlet. You've kept your virginity for me all these years—wouldn’t it be a waste to give your first night to some grease monkey instead of me?”
“Urgh!”
I spat straight in his face.
I didn’t bother hiding the revulsion burning in my eyes, staring at him like he was a pile of disgusting garbage.
That single action snapped Dante’s last thread of self-control.
“You ungrateful little bitch!” He flew into a rage, clamping a brutal grip around my jaw hard enough to crush my bone. In the next heartbeat, he lifted the glowing red tip of his cigar and jammed it unmercifully against the skin of my chest.
A sharp hiss tore from my throat.
The acrid stench of burnt flesh flooded the room instantly. Agonizing, searing pain wracked my whole body, cold sweat soaking through my coat in an instant. I clamped my jaw shut tight, refusing to whimper.
Dante stared at the raw, blistered burn mark on my chest and let out a twisted, malicious laugh. “This’ll be my mark on you. Stare at it every time you look in the mirror, so you never forget who you used to belong to, even after you run off with that mechanic.”
Once his violent rage faded, he tossed me away like I was something filthy. He pulled my mother’s necklace from his pocket and held it out to me in a patronizing gesture, dangling it just out of easy reach.
I fought through the tearing agony in my chest, my hand shaking as I reached for it.
Chloe suddenly peeked out from behind him, snatched the necklace away in one quick motion, and tossed it out the open front door with a simpering laugh.
“Oops, slipped right out of my hand.” Chloe giggled wildly.
The silver cross arced through the frigid air and plopped straight into the muddy, slushy snow outside the iron gates.
Dante frowned faintly, but he didn’t utter a single word of blame toward Chloe. He shot me one icy glare, then slammed the front door shut with a deafening bang.
I spun on my heel and sprinted outside, scrambling blindly through the frozen, mucky slush. My fingers turned bright red from the bitter cold, splitting open to bleed, fresh blood mixing with the filthy melted snow in a sickening mess. When my numb fingers finally closed around the cold metal cross, a thick, metallic taste of blood flooded my throat.
I doubled over, coughing violently, and a mouthful of blood splattered across the pure white snow, a stark, glaring scarlet stain against the white.
Up on the second-floor master bedroom balcony, I caught the silhouette of them locked in a kiss right before Dante pulled the curtains closed.
The snow beneath my knees had frozen solid into ice, and with it, every last shred of my heart died. I squeezed the cross tight in my palm, its sharp edges digging into my skin. The sharp pain kept me grounded, clinging to the last thread of clarity I had left.
I stood back up, never glancing at that lit window again. I dragged my stiff, frozen limbs forward, vanishing into the deepest black of Brooklyn’s night.
The raging blizzard erased my footprints, and wiped away every last flicker of love I’d ever held for Dante Costello.
From this moment on, this life of mine belonged only to me.
