Page 42 of The Mafia’s Bride (The Women of the Mafia #1)

Danica has the nerve to glare back at me, yanking the phone away.

“Souvenirs. I wanted them in case I needed to get you back.” My mouth drops and she rolls her eyes, annoyed.

“Don’t act shocked. You were looking for all the ways to break this marriage.

All the ways you could force him out. You were trying every angle, just hoping he’d divorce you.

I was going to give you those pictures as a way to end this. ”

She looks so honest, so earnest, but I know her tells.

She makes an unnatural amount of eye contact when she’s lying. It’s her way of trying to prove she’s telling the truth.

It’s what she’s doing right now.

She never intended for me to see those photos. She was never going to give them to me to break my marriage with Lex.

Things start to fall into place. All the tabloids, all the bits of gossip getting out. How I always wondered where they got their information, who was their source feeding them my failures.

I’m so stupid.

“You were going to give them to the papers.” The words are a whisper.

“All these years. I thought the paparazzi were just following me around. Or people in the clubs were sneaking photos. It’s the only way I could make sense of how many times pictures of me, in the most compromising positions, could ever find its way on to the newsstand. ”

Danica’s jaw flexes. She opens her mouth, but I hold up a hand. “Was it something you always did? Were we ever friends? Anything more than friends?”

We stand, facing each other. No one looks at us. The bartender continues to wipe the counters and the two men in the corner hover over their beers.

I’m really glad this place is so empty for this conversation.

Danica shoves the phone into her bag, holstering it on her shoulder.

“Not all of us have a Daddy looking to give us money or gifts whenever we want.”

The words cut me deeper than I’d like to admit. Because it’s not true. “You know as well as I do, those gifts were never about me. It was a way for him to show off, to prove he was the man in charge. I was nothing more than a clothing rack out there on the streets for his image, a dog on a leash.”

“And when I started blowing up your spot in the papers, he gave you more. Gave us more.” I had spent whatever he gave me on us. Gave her the expensive presents, shared in the jewelry, because I didn’t want them around me. They weren’t gifts of love, but just a show of ownership.

With those photos of me, it put a roof over her head, food on her table.

With my abandonment, my abusive father, it fed her lifestyle. She got to reap the benefits of being my friend and being my tormentor all for money.

“Your parents never paid you to stay away.” She said her parents gave her money to live free of them, but I know now how much of a lie that was.

“They cut me off the minute they knew I liked women.” Her blue eyes are hard.

“Can you imagine how terrible it was for their daughter to actually prefer women? Shameful. With you, I got to be who I wanted. But you had to ruin that and get married. Have the perfect fucking life. But this?” She shakes the purse.

“This will take care of me far longer than your husband’s bribe ever could. ”

I grab the bag, reacting instinctively, realizing too late that she didn’t need time to cool down—that Lex had forced her away. And it was too good of an offer to refuse.

I yank harder, pulling her off balance. No way in hell was I letting her do this to me. She would not ruin me, but she certainly wouldn’t ruin Lex and the De Luca family. They’re my family now and no one threatens them.

“Collins was right about you. She said you were toxic.”

Danica shoves me away and I slam into the bar. Unlike our other times, this wasn’t done in passion but hate. I never realized how much she hurt me when we together. Her frustration with me, with her terrible life, always bled into our lovemaking.

“Your sister Collins is the worse person alive. So high and mighty. Right up there with your oldest sister. She’s such a fucking bitch.”

Something dark curls in my belly. Untethered rage.

How dare she talk about my sisters like that?

Grabbing a fistful of her damaged hair, I yank her skull back. My nails cut into her scalp, and I shake her, face inches from mine. “My sisters are mine to insult. You don’t get to fucking utter their names except to ask to kiss their asses.”

Another force takes over my body as I slam her face into the bar edge, letting her fall to the ground with a bloody nose and busted lip.

She used me. She took advantage of my vulnerability, sold pictures of me just so she could have the life she thought she deserved.

She never cared about me. Never wanted my friendship. She just wanted to use me.

Picking up her bag, I throw it over my back, tossing a few bills on to the bar. All hundreds, because of course.

When the bartender locks eyes on me, I wink. “No cops. Take her to the closest airport, and send her on her way.”

The bartender nods. “Yes, Mrs. De Luca.”

He doesn’t make it sound like an insult. No, it sounds like respect.