Page 23 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

My throat tightened. I looked away, noticed towels laid out in the tub. She really was planning to sleep in here.

"Salvador's the one you care about." My voice came out heavy. Disappointed, maybe. Lost. "Not me, Elena. You'd obey his orders and hurt me rather than fight back. That's your apology? If it is, I'm really disappointed in you."

Her shoulders started shaking again. But I was done. I left the room, drove back to Manhattan through the dark.

My newly-wedded wife, left behind at the manor. But she'd earned every bit of it.

I stayedat the company and the apartment for two days. Didn't go back to the manor. Didn't make a single call.

When Marco came to report, he mentioned Elena. "There's talk coming out of the manor."

"What talk?" I didn't look up from my files.

"They're saying you left on the wedding night. Left your bride alone at the manor. You didn't even spend the night with her." He paused. "Some are saying you've already rejected her."

My pen stopped moving.

I had rejected her. That was the truth, wasn't it? I never wanted this marriage. Never wanted her. I hated her scheming, her fakeness, how submissive she acted lying next to me.

"She chose this path. These are the consequences." I didn't care. Changed the subject to the casino situation. "How's the acquisition going? Those old bastards haven't sent anyone to cause trouble?"

"Casino acquisition's moving smoothly," he said. "Their people are cooperating. Another month tops, we'll have it all locked down. Cut off most of their funding."

"Good." Finally, something going right. My mood lifted slightly.

"But there's something." Marco lowered his voice. "Going through the casino books, we found some unusual transactions. Money flowing to Mexico. Not small amounts either. Went through three shell companies, but I tracked it to the source."

I frowned. "Mexico?"

"Yeah. We picked up some unfamiliar faces at the casino. Mexican accents. When we questioned them, they wouldn't admit who they worked for, but their movements, their reactions—professional. They're organized."

I leaned back in my chair. Fingers drumming the desk.

Mexican cartels? What were they doing in New York's underground casinos? Bad feeling stirring in my gut. Not enough information yet to see the whole picture. Like there was a thread somewhere in the dark, but I couldn't see where it led.

"Keep digging," I said. "Who they are, who they're contacting, what they're planning—find it all. And use themas leads. See if they know anything about Valentina's whereabouts."

I'd only been able to track Valentina to Mexico. Good chance she was still there. I couldn't pass up any lead.

Marco nodded, then asked, "Heading out?"

I turned to the window. The setting sun hung at the horizon, glowing gold.

I sat there, smoked a cigarette. The smoke rose, blurred the city skyline outside. Finally, I stubbed it out, grabbed my coat, and headed for the door. Said something that surprised Marco—

"Let's head back to the manor for dinner."

Chapter Eight

Elena

"Marco called. Said Dante's coming home for dinner tonight."

Lucia told me this while I was in the kitchen prepping Salvador's dinner. I stopped mid-motion.

He'd left me in that bathroom on our wedding night, drove off alone, and I hadn't heard a word since. I'd figured I wouldn't see him again anytime soon. Part of me was relieved—at least I wouldn't have to face that humiliation.

"Did Salvador ask him to come?"