And so for ten years, I, who never cared for anything flashy or ornate, always pinned the freshest orange blossom I could find before going to see him.
I stood beside him through his glory days, his tailored suits and black sedans, his meteoric rise through the Valenti ranks.
And my reward was a bullet in the dark and a family in the ground.
This life, I intended to live differently.
I walked faster.
Giulietta rose on her toes and hurried to keep up.
Behind us, the crowd erupted.
The low growl of an engine hammered closer, louder, vibrating through the pavement beneath my feet.
"Serafina!"
A man's voice split the air beside my ear.
My feet stopped. My body turned, stiff as a board.
Dominic Valenti stood tall beside the open door of his black armored SUV, his charcoal suit cut like a weapon, a signet ring catching the light on his right hand. Sharp brows, striking eyes. He was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him.
"Not going to congratulate me on my victory?"
He watched me, expectation written across his face.
Every girl in the crowd turned to stare at me, green with envy.
Once, I would have basked in those looks.
Savored the certainty that I was the only one in Dominic Valenti's heart.