chapter 43

She couldn't blame him for his coldness.

Victoria's next words were like a blow to the head.

"And his ex wife..." she murmured. "She was cheating on him too. She loved her husband's best friend." Evangeline gasped, her heart skipping a beat. Vincente had been married before? No one had ever told her that.

The older woman's eyes lifted, her gaze meeting Evangeline's.

"Yes, darling," she said softly. "She ran off with him and his child." A long breath left her. "That was a blow to his ego and heart."

Evangeline's hands shook around her cup, spilling tea over the edge. She hadn't known Vincente had an ex wife.

"I'm sorry, dear," Victoria whispered, her hand touching Evangeline's. "He won't speak of it."

Evangeline stared at the older woman,

Victoria was quiet for a moment, her brow wrinkled in thought.

"Never mention Isabella to him," she whispered suddenly. "He hates her more than anyone in this world. Don't bring that up." The words were cold Evangeline nodded numbly, her mind whirling.

What had Vincente done to deserve such pain?

Victoria went back to the house a few minutes later. Evangeline stayed out in the garden, her thoughts running over what Victoria told her.

Ana came out a few minutes later looking for Evangeline.

She spotted her in the garden and came over to sit beside her. The blonde woman was dressed in a pale pink dress that showed off her legs, her hair loose and hanging down her back.

Her blue gaze was bright as she smiled at Evangeline, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Hello, sister in law," she said softly. "What are you doing out here?"

Evangeline shrugged, looking away. "Just enjoying the view." Her voice was soft.

Ana nodded, her smile faltering for a second before coming back. "May I join you?" She asked softly.

Evangeline nodded.

The blonde woman sat down beside her, her smile bright.

She leaned forward, her blue gaze on Evangeline's face.

"May I ask how you two met?" she murmured, her voice soft.

Evangeline stiffened, her mind blanking out. She couldn't tell the truth. That was too dark to tell to anyone. So, she came up with a lie, her heart beating wildly.

"We met when he came to our village for his business," she murmured. "We began dating last year." She shrugged, hoping the story seemed believable enough.

Ana nodded, seeming to accept that explanation. "That's nice," she said softly. Her smile was bright again. "Well, I'm glad to see Vincente has found happiness."

Evangeline returned her smile.

Next day in the evening in the party of Vincente's celebration.....

Vincente, the notorious billionaire mafia boss, strode into the grand ballroom with an air of unbridled arrogance and power.

His tall, muscular frame was draped in a tailored black suit, the fine fabric hugging his broad shoulders and lean waist.

A crisp white dress shirt, left open at the collar, and a sleek black tie completed his impeccable ensemble.

His dark hair, slicked back, gleamed under the chandelier lights.

The party was in full swing, celebrating Vincente's ascension to the supreme leadership of the mafia.

The ballroom buzzed with the low murmur of conversations and the clink of champagne glasses.

Men in expensive suits and women in designer gowns milled about, their laughter echoing off the ornate walls.

As Vincente made his way through the crowd, a path cleared before him. The mafiosos, both old guard and new recruits, eyed him with a mix of fear and reverence.

A burly man with a thick beard and a scar running down his cheek approached Vincente, his hand outstretched. "Boss, a word of congratulations is in order. We've all heard about your... accomplishments. The Russians, the Irish, the Chinese - none stand a chance against your leadership." He flashed a gold-toothed grin.

Vincente glanced at the outstretched hand, his lip curling in disdain. "Spare me the accolades, Carmine," he said coldly, his voice dripping with contempt. "I didn't claw my way to the top to be patted on the back by the likes of you." He stepped forward, invading Carmine's personal space. "You're here because you need something from me. So let's cut to the chase. What do you want?"

Carmine's grin faltered, and he lowered his hand. "Aye, well, I was hoping to discuss the territory lines, boss. The Russians have been encroaching on our-"

"Enough," Vincente snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I'll deal with the Russians. You focus on keeping your men in line and your product clean. Anything less than perfection is unacceptable."

Then Vincente gestured him to leave.

Every now and then men approached Vincente to give him their congrats and tried to build good relations with him which he ignored.

Then a statuesque woman in a shimmering emerald gown glided up to Vincente, her red lips curved in a seductive smile. "Vincente, darling," she purred, trailing a manicured finger down his lapel. "I must say, you look devastatingly handsome tonight. The power suits you." She pressed her ample bosom against his arm, her breath hot against his ear.

Vincente's gaze flicked to her briefly before he coldly removed her hand from his suit. "Don't waste your charms on me, Veronica," he said dismissively, his tone as frigid as ice.

"I'm not interested in your empty flattery or your cheap attempts at seduction." He stepped away from her, putting distance between their bodies. "You're here because you want to discuss the new shipment routes on behalf of your father. So let's keep this professional. I won't tolerate any distractions."

Veronica's smile faltered, a flash of anger and fear in her eyes before she regained her composure. "Of course, Vincente," she said coolly, straightening her shoulders.

"I merely thought to offer my congratulations, as is customary. But if you insist on keeping things... businesslike." She paused

Vincente turned his back on Veronica, dismissing her completely as he strode away. His men following behind.

His ice-blue eyes scanned the room, landing on a group of his most trusted men huddled near the bar.

They straightened up as he approached, their postures rigid with respect and a hint of fear.

Without a word, Vincente took a seat on the plush velvet sofa, his tall frame sinking into the rich fabric.

He crossed one leg over the other, his hands steepling in front of his chin as he regarded his men.

Veronica watched as Vincente walked away, her seductive smile dissolving into a tight-lipped scowl.

The rejection was evident in the set of her jaw and the narrowing of her eyes as she stared at his retreating back.

She had offered him a chance to indulge in pleasure, to forget the harsh realities of his new role, and he had cast her aside like a common whore.

The insult stung, but she would not let it show on her face for long. She was Veronica fucking Vitali, the powerful Italian mafia princess.

She tried to ignore the insulting event that happened with her and left to enjoy the party.