He Thought I’d Beg Until I Walked Away

My boyfriend, Don Alessandro Moretti, wanted a Donna who never got jealous. Whenever I disobeyed, he used silence to teach me my place. When he started taking his childhood sweetheart, Lucia,everywhere on his arm, I confronted him. He froze me out for a week. At one family dinner, Alessandro seated Lucia at his right hand, the place meant for his future wife. When I objected, he shut me out for two weeks. “Lucia and I are only friends. I love you, Eva.”He told me afterward. “But a Donna must be above petty jealousy.” Every time, I remembered the man I had fallen in love with and apologized first. But this time, two muggers cornered me in a parking lot. Still punishing me, Alessandro declined my call. During the twenty minutes I spent alone at the police station, I finally understood something. There was no future in twisting myself into the woman someone else wanted. I opened the offer from a leading research institute in Zurich wanted me to direct its five-year neuroprosthetics program and signed it. Alessandro thought my silence meant his lesson had finally worked. He didn’t know I had stopped trying to become the woman he wanted. I was leaving in seven days, and choosing my own life. Chapter 1 An officer asked who could take me home. The only number I knew by heart belonged to the man who had been punishing me with silence for a week. I borrowed the officer’s phone. As expected, Alessandro answered when he saw an unfamiliar number. “Alessandro, I was attacked—” “Enough, Eva. Stop putting on this ridiculous act.” Music and laughter filled the background. “It’s Lucia’s birthday. Come apologize, and I’ll forgive you.” He hung up. By the time I emptied half of the tissue box, the tears finally stopped. The muggers had taken everything—my wallet, my ID, and the keys to my apartment. The last person I wanted to see was Alessandro, but he had the keys. If I wanted to get home tonight, I had no choice. One officer pressed forty dollars into my hand and called me a cab. Belladonna was a private club owned by the Moretti family. Music and laughter spilled from the private dining room upstairs. When I opened the door, Lucia was holding Alessandro’s phone. She sat beside him beneath the amber lights, wearing a red silk dress. Alessandro’s arm rested along the back of her chair, making it look as though he had her tucked against his side. The room went quiet. A dozen members of Alessandro’s inner circle stared at me. Some were made men. Others were sons of families allied with the Morettis. Lucia spoke first. “Eva.” Her smile was sweet. “You finally made it.” One of Alessandro’s cousins leaned toward another. “Guess the attack story didn’t work.” The other man laughed. “Still, that’s loyalty. The Boss calls, and she comes running.” “You want a woman like that?” “Sure. A woman who does what she’s told and never talks back? That’s the dream.” Low laughter rolled around the table. Each laugh landed like a needle beneath my skin. But they weren’t entirely wrong. For three years, I had fought, cried, apologized, and returned. Alessandro never raised his voice. He simply waited until I exhausted myself. “You’re allowed to dislike my decisions,” he would say. “You are not allowed to believe your feelings can dictate them.” Then he would withdraw everything—his calls, his touch, his presence—until I came back and admitted I had challenged him. Only then would he hold me again. He called it teaching me how to stand beside a Don. His friends apparently called it training. Alessandro watched me from the head of the table, a cigar resting between his fingers. He didn’t tell the men to stop laughing. A faint, satisfied gleam appeared in his dark eyes. “I thought you were attacked,” he said. “Yet here you are.” “My purse was stolen. My apartment keys were inside.” His mouth curved slightly. He didn’t believe me. He thought I had invented the attack to force him away from Lucia’s birthday, then come here when the lie failed. Lucia suddenly gasped. “Eva, your knee is bleeding.” Alessandro’s gaze dropped and his expression changed instantly. He stubbed out his cigar, stood, and pulled me toward an empty chair. His hands were firm but careful as he lifted the torn edge of my dress. The skin across my knee was split and swollen, with dried blood streaking down my shin. “What the hell happened to you?” He ordered one of the staff to bring a first-aid kit. “I can do it,” Lucia offered. “No.” Alessandro knelt in front of me. “Eva has always been sensitive to pain. You have to be gentle with her. I’ll do it.” The way he said it made the dead thing inside my chest stir. He remembered. Of course he remembered. Alessandro knew how I took my coffee, which side of the bed I slept on, and that thunderstorms kept me awake. He loved me. That was what made it so difficult to understand why his love always had to hurt. He cleaned the cut with antiseptic. When I flinched, his free hand closed around my ankle. “Easy, tesoro.” Then Alessandro looked up. “You hurt yourself this badly just to frighten me?” The warmth inside me vanished. “You’ve made your point,” he continued. “I’ll end the punishment. But this is the last time you create a scene because of Lucia.” There was no concern in his eyes now, only the calm satisfaction of a man who believed his lesson had finally worked. He thought I had injured myself rather than submit. And by coming when he ordered, I had finally proven that I understood who held the power. “I didn’t do this on purpose,” I said. “I was attacked.” His jaw tightened at what he heard as one final act of defiance. He finished bandaging my knee with painstaking care, then tossed the bloodied gauze aside. “You’re here now. Sit down, behave, and don’t ruin Lucia’s birthday.” “Eva, I have to admit, I’m impressed,” Lucia said, sliding closer. She still had Alessandro’s phone. “You write the most beautiful apologies. I don’t know how Alessandro manages not to answer them.” I stared at her. “You were reading my messages?” One of Alessandro’s oldest friends, Nico DeLuca, grinned. “Don’t be embarrassed, future Mrs. Moretti. They’re practically poetry.” He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. I was wrong to question you, Alessandro. Please come home. I can’t bear it when you shut me out. Laughter erupted around the room. Nico continued in a trembling imitation of my voice. I know you love me. I just need to feel that you choose me. My gaze moved to Alessandro. He took the phone from Lucia’s hand, but he didn’t tell Nico to stop. He looked completely unbothered, as though having my private messages read aloud for everyone’s amusement was hardly worth making a fuss over. “Enough,” Lucia said, amusement still bright in her voice. “Don’t embarrass her any more than you already have. Keep this up and she’ll pick another fight with Alessandro.” “All right,” Alessandro said at last. “ Drop it.” The laughter died instantly. Alessandro reached for my hand. “They’re only joking. Don’t take it personally.” I looked down and I smiled. “It’s fine. Keep reading.” Lucia blinked. She must have expected me to do what I always did—cry, beg, and make a scene. But not this time.I glanced around the table at the people who had watched me surrender to this man again and again. “They’re right,” I said. “It is humiliating.” Alessandro’s expression sharpened, but I no longer cared what lesson he thought he was teaching me. I had already accepted the position in Zurich. In seven days, I would be gone. Chapter 2 After hearing what I said, Lucia’s smile faltered. Alessandro slowly crushed his cigar into the ashtray and turned to me. “Have you learned nothing, Eva?” There it was again. Alessandro used those words whenever I dared to stand my ground. If I refused to yield, he would make the decision even more absolute. It was never enough for me to tolerate what he did. I had to accept that I had no right to question his decisions, let alone stop him. Our worst fight happened the year before. I had been hospitalized for three days after a severe reaction to gluten. Alessandro secured the best specialist in Manhattan, put two armed guards outside my private room, and ordered the hospital director to call him with every update. But he never came. Before I was admitted, I had asked him not to escort Lucia to a three-night benefit at Carnegie Hall. So he attended all three nights. When I confronted him afterward, Alessandro seemed genuinely unable to understand why I was upset. “You were protected,” he said. “I knew every number on your chart before your doctor did.” “I didn’t need your men. I needed you.” “And I needed you to understand that fear does not give you authority over me.” I asked whether I was his future wife or merely another person under his protection. He told me Lucia was family. He had known her since childhood, and whatever existed between them had never been romantic. Then he shut me out for two weeks. He still came home every night, but he treated me like a ghost. He slept beside me without touching me and drank the coffee I made without looking at me. One night, I broke. “Why does it always have to be like this?” I cried, sitting on our bedroom floor. “Why do you have to punish me every time I ask for one thing?” Alessandro watched me in silence until I had no tears left. He believed answering me while I was emotional would reward my defiance. For fourteen nights, I cried into my pillow and remembered only the man I was terrified of losing. The man who had every Moretti kitchen stripped of gluten so I could eat safely. Who knew my favorite tapas bar in the West Village and could order my entire meal without asking. Who held me through thunderstorms, even when family business kept his phone ringing until dawn. I loved that man too much to let him go. In the end, I sent Alessandro a message apologizing for questioning him. Our fights always ended this way. I gave in again and again until he decided I had apologized enough and let me back into his arms. He came home that night carrying a gluten-free cheesecake from my favorite bakery. “Do you understand now?” he asked. I nodded. He kissed my forehead. “Good. Your birthday was two days ago, tesoro. Come eat.” I ate the cake through my tears, unable to tell whether I was hurt, relieved, or simply grateful that he loved me again. The next evening, he canceled dinner with my parents that had been planned weeks ago. Lucia’s car had broken down in Brooklyn and she wanted him to pick her up himself. Alessandro could have sent a driver. He could have sent twenty men. I had asked him to stay. So he went himself. The memory faded as I reached for a glass of water. For once, I didn’t defend myself or promise Alessandro that I had learned my lesson. His eyes narrowed at my silence. Before he could speak, Lucia curled both hands around his arm. “Please don’t fight with her because of me.” She lifted her cocktail toward his mouth. “Here. Try this. They made it with that Sicilian blood orange gin you like.” Alessandro gave her an indulgent look, then took a sip from her glass. The tension left his shoulders. I stared at them. It wasn’t that Lucia understood him better than I did. She simply never challenged him. She asked sweetly, praised every decision, and let him believe that giving her whatever she wanted had always been his idea. “I still feel terrible about last month,” Lucia said. “If I’d known Eva would be so upset, I never would’ve asked you to escort me to my uncle’s dinner.” Lucia’s father had planned to introduce her to the heir of a Philadelphia family. She had asked Alessandro to attend as her escort so the man would understand she was unavailable. I had begged Alessandro not to go. That alone had guaranteed he would. Alessandro didn’t look at me. “You asked for help. She’ll learn not to turn every favor into a betrayal.” Lucia turned to me, pressing her palms together. “My cousin’s engagement party is this Saturday, and that Philadelphia man will be there again. May I borrow Alessandro one more time?” Alessandro placed a hand on top of her head and turned her face back toward him. “You want me, you ask me. Why are you asking her?” “Because I know you’ll say yes.” Lucia laughed. “I’m trying not to get your fiancée in trouble again.” I lowered my eyes. “I don’t mind.” Alessandro studied me, visibly surprised. “That’s new.” I said nothing. After a moment, I held out my hand. “My apartment key.” His brows drew together. “Why?” “My purse was stolen, remember?” He dropped the keys into my palm. “I’m tired,” I said. “I’m going home.” No one stopped me as I left the private room. Behind me, I heard Lucia ask softly, “Does Eva hate me?” “No.” Alessandro sounded almost amused. “She loves me too much. That’s the problem.” The men laughed. One of them asked, “You sure you haven’t pushed her too far this time?” “I’m sure.” His confidence followed me down the hallway. “Three years ago, she turned down the Zurich program because I told her my wife belonged in New York. She walked away from everything she had worked for without a second thought.” He paused. “A woman who loves me enough to give up that kind of future isn’t going anywhere.” Approval murmured around the table. My steps slowed. Alessandro was right about one thing. Three years ago, I had rejected Zurich for him. What he didn’t know was that during our week of silence, the institute had offered me the position again. This time, I had accepted. Chapter 3 When I returned to my apartment, I was suddenly grateful I had refused to give it up. Alessandro had wanted me at the Moretti estate from the beginning. A Don’s future wife belonged behind guarded gates, he said—not in a Manhattan apartment with a doorman and neighbors who complained about his security detail. I refused to move before we were married. So Alessandro compromised in his own way. He bought the apartment across the hall for his men and began spending most nights in mine. Over three years, his presence had spread into every room. Italian suits filled half my closet. His razor sat beside my toothbrush. A second humidor occupied my bookshelf, and six pairs of handmade shoes lined my entryway. That night, I packed every trace of him into two large garment cases and three boxes. It was almost midnight when I finished. Exhaustion settled over me as I lay down, yet for the first time in months, I could breathe. Alessandro returned the next morning. I was eating gluten-free toast and a hard-boiled egg when he walked into the kitchen. He stopped at the sight of my plate. After his late nights, I usually made him a prosciutto frittata, rosemary potatoes, and the double espresso he claimed no one else could get right. Today, I had made breakfast for one. Alessandro removed his coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “A new strategy, tesoro?” I kept eating. “No breakfast? After ignoring me for a week, you’re not even going to admit you missed me?” The week had felt long. Long enough for me to realize my life continued perfectly well without him in it. “Don’t forget my award ceremony on Friday.” I wanted to end our three years together with some dignity. After the ceremony, I would tell him face-to-face that I was leaving and that we were over. He glanced at me. “This Friday?” “Yes. The International Society for Neuroprosthetics is presenting me with its Innovation Medal. We talked about this weeks ago, and you said you’d be there. I already reserved a seat for you.” Alessandro’s expression barely changed. “I can’t. I’d take Lucia to a fitting for her cousin’s engagement party.” Of course he was. Alessandro had never cared about my work. Three times in the past year, I had rearranged important events around his schedule. Each time, he promised to attend. Each time, Lucia gave him somewhere else to be. Once, she had a fever. Another time, she wanted his opinion on a new apartment. The third time, her dog needed to see a specialist. Alessandro had doctors, drivers, and hundreds of men willing to handle any problem with a single phone call. But whenever I asked him to stay, he went to her personally. I swallowed the last bite of toast. “You promised you’d come,” I said. “Lucia can take a stylist to the fitting.” His eyes cooled. “Here we go again.” “This isn’t about Lucia. That ceremony represents years of my work. I’m asking you to keep your word and show up for me just once.” “And I’m telling you I have another obligation.”A humorless smile touched his mouth. “Still trying to give me orders? ” “I’m trying to have an opinion.” “Why can’t you learn to be a gracious, understanding Donna?” I looked at him in silence. Alessandro leaned closer, one hand braced against the table. “Maybe I forgave you too quickly last night.” He picked up his coat and headed for the door. I waited until he reached it. “Alessandro.” He stopped, then turned with a knowing look. “I thought so.” I pointed toward the garment cases and boxes beside the sofa. “Take your things.” For the first time that morning, his composure cracked. His gaze moved over the boxes I had carefully packed. “You want to test me again?” His voice dropped dangerously. “Fine.” He opened the door. “But this time, don’t expect me to forgive you so easily.” The door slammed behind him. Usually, the sound of Alessandro leaving would have sent panic clawing through my chest. This time, I felt nothing. My replacement phone arrived that afternoon. The moment I activated it, a message from Zurich appeared. Welcome to the Helvetia Institute, Dr. Laurent. We are honored to have you lead the International Neuroprosthetics Program. Your flight departs in six days. For three years, Alessandro’s family had treated my work like an amusing hobby. His mother called me the little lab girl and reminded me that scientific publications carried no weight beside the Moretti name. But in Zurich, one of Europe’s most prestigious research institutes was placing an entire international program in my hands. I looked at Alessandro’s belongings scattered across my floor. By the time he decided I had been punished enough, there would be no one here to forgive. Chapter 4 For the next few days, Alessandro waited for my apology. This time, however, he made sure I knew exactly what he was doing while he waited. Alessandro normally kept his private life away from cameras. Now photographs of him and Lucia appeared in every society column connected to the Moretti family. Lucia leaving a Fifth Avenue jeweler with his hand at her back. Lucia dining across from him at Le Bernardin. Lucia stepping out of his armored car wearing his coat. They were never intimate enough to prove anything. They were only public enough to provoke me. Alessandro wanted me to call, demand an explanation, and prove I still cared whom he touched and where he took her. What he didn’t realize was that every photograph made me more certain I was doing the right thing by leaving. His mother called two days before the Moretti Foundation gala. “Eva, you’ll arrive at the estate by noon on Sunday,” Mrs. Moretti said without greeting me. “The wives of our capos will expect the future Donna to receive them.” “I won’t be available.” She gave a quiet, contemptuous laugh. “What has Alessandro done now?” “This has nothing to do with him. You’ll need to find someone else to host.” “You spend your days in a laboratory wiring machines to broken bodies, and somehow you believe that makes you too important for this family.” She had never considered my research a real career. To Mrs. Moretti, I was an outsider who wore a lab coat instead of a family name. Lucia, meanwhile, held an ornamental position coordinating dinners for the Moretti Foundation, yet everyone treated her opinions as sacred because her father had once been Alessandro’s consigliere. “Lucia understands our world,” Mrs. Moretti continued. “You should be grateful Alessandro is willing to teach you.” “Then let Lucia host.” Silence fell over the line. “You’re throwing another tantrum.” “No. I’m telling you I won’t be there.” I ended the call before she could answer and blocked her number. The following days passed quickly. I transferred my ongoing projects to a trusted colleague, archived years of research data, and met with the Zurich relocation team. My final obligation in New York was my award ceremony at the Grand Regent Hotel. That night, the International Society for Neuroprosthetics presented me with its Innovation Medal. My parents and brother had all come to celebrate. Only Alessandro’s chair remained empty. No one asked where he was. When I walked onto the stage, my family rose with the rest of the ballroom and applauded until I had to blink back tears. Afterward, while they spoke with my colleagues, I carried my flowers toward the hotel lobby. Applause erupted from the adjoining ballroom. The doors stood open beneath a gold sign bearing the Moretti crest. Inside, Alessandro’s inner circle had gathered for a private reception before Sunday’s foundation gala. Lucia stood in the center of them. She wore a black evening gown and held an emerald brooch against her chest. I recognized it immediately. The Moretti Emerald had belonged to Alessandro’s grandmother. The reigning Don traditionally presented it to his wife before her first official banquet as the family’s Donna. Alessandro had once placed it in my palm and promised I would wear it after our wedding. Lucia smiled up at him. “Since Eva won’t be hosting on Sunday, let me stand beside you. The family needs a woman who understands its traditions.” His men began murmuring their approval. “She already knows everyone.” “Lucia was born for it.” “Put the emerald on her.” Alessandro frowned. Then he saw me beyond the ballroom doors. His expression eased, almost as if he had been waiting for this exact moment. Then my phone vibrated. It was Alessandro’s message. Come here and apologize. I’ll tell her no. I raised my eyes. Alessandro gave me a small, confident nod. He was offering me another path back to him. All I had to do was cross the ballroom, surrender in front of his family, and admit that he had won. He waited for me to cry. To demand that Lucia put down the emerald. To prove that I still wanted the place beside him badly enough to beg for it. I silenced my phone. Then I adjusted the flowers in my arms and turned away. The certainty vanished from Alessandro’s face. Behind me, the ballroom remained silent for several long seconds. Then his voice carried clearly through the open doors. “Wear it, Lucia.” Cheers filled the room. I heard Lucia laugh as the Moretti family welcomed her into the place that had once been promised to me. But even as I walked away, I could feel Alessandro’s gaze burning into my back. Outside the hotel, my mother joined me and slipped her arm through mine. “Everything ready for Zurich?” “Yes.” “Then we should get you to the airport. Your flight leaves at midnight.” I looked back once. Through the ballroom doors, Lucia stood beneath the chandeliers wearing the Moretti Emerald. Alessandro wasn’t looking at her. He was still staring at me. I had planned to say goodbye to him tonight. I wanted to end our three years together with honesty and dignity. But Alessandro had chosen not to attend my ceremony. So there was nothing left to say. I was done with Alessandro Moretti. My phone vibrated. Two messages from Alessandro appeared. Come back and apologize. I’ll take the emerald from Lucia, and we can forget any of this happened. Once you’ve learned to be the gracious, obedient woman a Don needs, I’ll marry you and make you my Donna. For three years, every fight had ended with an apology long enough to convince him I would never leave. Not this time. I blocked his number and climbed into the waiting car. By the time Alessandro realized there would be no apology, my plane would already be over the Atlantic.