Quit the Mafia Crown, Took the Healer Scalpel Chapter 07

Quit the Mafia Crown, Took the Healer Scalpel Chapter 07

After pushing Lina into that group of playboys, Dante didn’t leave right away.

He smoked a cigar in frustration. That stubborn woman refused to beg for mercy at all.

He pulled out his phone, a draft sitting in his messages.

“She’s my wife, Donna Lina. Scare her a little. Don’t lay a real hand on her.”

Before he could press send, the sound of high heels came from the end of the hallway.

“Dante.”

Iris ran over, panic on her face.

She threw herself into his arms. “I’m alone at the estate, the windows still rattling. I’m so scared.”

Dante frowned. “Why did you come all the way here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.” Iris looked up at him, eyes reddening. “I missed you.”

Dante’s heart softened. He put his arm around her waist.

He’d left his phone on the windowsill in the hallway.

Iris caught sight of the screen from the corner of her eye, and the words stung.

She rose on her toes and kissed his jaw. “Stop staring at it. Stay with me tonight, okay?”

Dante was too distracted by her to think straight, and kissed her deeply.

Behind his back, Iris’s hand crept toward the windowsill.

The screen lit up for a second, and the unsent message was deleted.

She opened the group chat, typed a few words, and hit send.

Then she put the phone back, coaxing him home and mentioning a young heir who’d called them a sweet

couple.

He had clearly mistaken her for Lina Conti.

A night of passion.

When Dante woke the next day, it was already afternoon outside.

He reached for his phone. No messages. No missed calls.

Lina hadn’t contacted him.

He propped himself against the headboard and stared at the screen, waiting.

Five minutes. Ten. Half an hour.

Nothing.

Iris came out of the bathroom, her hair wet, and slipped into his arms. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” Dante set the phone down, his tone casual. “Lina’s probably still angry.”

Iris blinked. “Lina is never satisfied. She’s the wife, with a mansion and endless jewels. What more does she

want?”

Dante said nothing.

Iris leaned on him, voice soft. “I’d never make you worry. Treat me well, and I’d repay you a hundredfold. I met

you too late.”

Dante looked down at her.

Wet strands of hair clung to her face, and her eyes were clear and eager, touched with stubbornness.

She was the young Lina, the library girl who had once looked at him with only him in her eyes.

Only Lina would never have flattered him like this.

His heart stirred. He bent and kissed Iris’s forehead.

“I’ll ignore her two more days,” he said, sulky. “Today is yours.”

Iris laughed and threw her arms around his neck.

He spent the afternoon taking Iris through Fifth Avenue’s priciest stores, then had her change into the wine-red gown made for Lina.

Dinner was at the rooftop restaurant, at a window table facing Manhattan.

Candlelight flickered. The steak was medium-rare, Lina’s favorite, and the wine was the vintage she always

ordered.

As he cut his steak, Dante remembered their third anniversary, when he’d won Lina back at her hospital bed.

Lina had sat here in a white dress, smiling on her face, but melancholy in her eyes.

“Don?” Iris’s voice pulled him back. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Dante snapped out of it and forced a smile. “Eating.”

Fireworks exploded into the sky outside the window.

When the first one burst, Dante’s heart clenched.

Pain struck without warning, as if a hand crushed his chest, as if something were being ripped out.

He grabbed his chest, his face white.

Iris jumped in fright. “Don? What’s wrong?”

Dante couldn’t speak.

One firework after another burst, lighting up all of Manhattan and the hollow emptiness in his chest.

Strange. The fireworks were his, Iris sat opposite, all under his control. Yet he felt he’d lost something.

Something important.

The kind of thing you can never get back.