You Wanted an Ornament, You Got a Mafia Queen Chapter 03

You Wanted an Ornament, You Got a Mafia Queen Chapter 03

Marco caught my distant expression and curved his lips slightly.

“Scared already? Come on down. This swing belongs to someone. You were just borrowing it.”

Bianca wriggled off the seat and pulled out her phone, pointing it at herself. Then she tugged Marco’s arm.

“Take a picture with me for the memory!”

He sighed like she was impossible.

“I will never understand you girls. You want to photograph every little thing.”

But he bent down, chin settling on her shoulder. That easy, indulgent tone I knew better than anything.

“Can you try a different expression? All fifteen shots look the same.”

“You’re so demanding.”

I turned and walked alone toward the front gate.

Their voices faded behind me.

I went home, grabbed my suitcase, and headed for the airport.

My phone buzzed.

[Elysia, let’s push the dress fitting back a few days. Mason and the guys set something up and I kind of have to go.]

[Don’t be mad. Once things calm down we’ll go to Paris for the engagement photos.]

[You’re getting more dramatic by the day. Nobody else would put up with you but me!]

I pressed my cheek against the car window and watched the city blur past.

Paris.

We’d planned that two months ago.

I’d spent two full weeks researching it, different weather, different locations, matching photographers to the kind of light each spot got in the afternoon…

Then Bianca showed up and blew all of it apart.

Marco brought her everywhere. He called it “mentorship.”

But his replies to me got slower and slower.

During the hours he said he was slammed at work, I’d see Bianca’s posts. Him taking her to the new dessert place near the office. Ditching work early to catch a movie.

When I’d ask, he always had an answer.

“I was scouting it for the office afternoon snacks. If it’s good, everyone benefits, right?”

“Client meeting ran long. We passed by the theater on the way back. She seemed excited, and I didn’t want to shut that down.”

He missed my birthday dinner. He missed our anniversary.

The disappointment piled up slowly, piece by piece.

When I told my parents, they were back in Toronto, that I wanted to break off the engagement, they pushed back hard.

Then last week, Marco pulled out of a joint venture that both our families had built together over years. All of it for Bianca.

That was when they finally understood. They said yes.

Grandfather Giovanni had loved me since I was small. Even he’d had to give in when he saw how certain I was.

“The boy let you down. Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. Even if you’re not my granddaughter-in-law, I’ll still look after you.”

More texts from Marco:

[Forgot to give you the gift. I’ll drop it by tomorrow.]

[Still ignoring me? Fine, I’ll give it to someone else then.]

[You are so high-maintenance. No one else on earth would handle you like I do!]

At the departure gate, Marco called.

I figured I might as well say it directly. Save Grandfather the trouble of explaining.

I picked up.

The background noise hit me first. Loud voices, the clatter of a busy bar.

“Man, you really brought your assistant? Your fiancée’s not going to scratch your face off?”

Marco laughed. “Please. I’m the head of the Santoro family now. I’m not about to let her boss me around anymore. That’s embarrassing.”

Another voice: “If you ask me, Elysia Monteiro’s fine for dating. Actually marrying her? That’s a whole different thing.”

Someone else jumped in: “She’s a Principessa. Grew up without a scratch on her. This past month’s probably the first time she’s ever actually hurt. Although honestly, the fact that she’s held on this long surprised me.”

Marco sounded drunk. His voice had that loose, careless quality.

“What’s there to hold on about? She can’t stay above it all forever. If she’s going to be my Donna, she plays by my rules. She needs to learn what’s her business and what isn’t.”

Bianca’s voice drifted in, soft and coy.

“Marco, you should stop drinking. You’re going to be wasted.”

A guy named Mason teased: “Bianca, why are you still calling him ‘Marco’ like that? Shouldn’t it be babe by now?”

“Stop it. I would never cross that line.”

“Oh yeah? Then call me babe. I don’t have a jealous fiancée.”

Something hit Mason. Probably a foot.

“You and every girl in the city,” Marco said. “Don’t flirt with my girl.”

That got a round of laughter.

“Sure, sure. Your girl. Very protective.”

“So about Vegas, did you two actually—”

Marco cut that off cold: “Nothing happened. We were completely professional. Stop speculating.”

Mason’s grin came through in his voice:

“Really? Because Bianca told me you only booked one room~”

The call cut off.

I already knew who’d hung up.

She didn’t need to bother.

I blocked the number, stood up, and walked toward the gate.