Too Late For Regret, Mr. Underboss

I caught the white roses at my best friend's wedding.

Everyone expected Nero, the Mafia Underboss I'd loved for eight years, to drop to one knee and propose.

Instead, he ripped the bouquet from my hands and gave it to his secretary.

"Next time, Siena," he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Let Valentina have her moment in the spotlight."

In front of every Capo and soldier in the city, he stripped me of my dignity just to please a girl who played at being a mobster's muse.

To him, I was merely an entry in a ledger-forever pending, never prioritized.

I quietly sold our penthouse, packed my bags, and walked away.

In seven days, I would no longer be his shadow.

I planned to marry his rival Don.

Chapter 1

I caught the white roses at my best friend's Mafia wedding.

My fingers had barely closed around the stems when the man I'd loved for eight years snatched the bouquet from my grasp and handed it to his secretary.

I stood frozen in the center of the grand ballroom.

Nero didn't even meet my eyes as he took the flowers.

He was the Underboss of the Cosa Nostra-a man whose influence wasn't an empire, but a web of dock unions, armored trucks, and judges' gavels.

But right now, he was using those powerful hands to offer my bridal bouquet to Valentina.

Valentina took the roses with a shy, practiced innocence.

She was his secretary, a low-level assistant who had spent the last six months blurring professional lines.

The murmurs of the surrounding Capos and soldiers died down, replaced by a silence so heavy I could hear the faint clink of ice settling in a forgotten glass across the room.

They were all waiting for Nero to drop to one knee and ask for my hand. He didn't.

Instead, Nero casually adjusted his bespoke suit jacket and looked down at me.

"Next time, Siena."

His voice was calm, softened by a complete lack of guilt.

"Let Valentina have her moment," he added.

The words didn't hit like a splash of cold water; they felt like a slow-acting paralytic seeping into my veins.

There wouldn't be a next time.

Gia stormed over in her massive white gown, her eyes burning with a fury that seemed to thin the air around her.

She shoved past two armed guards to reach me.

"You let your secretary snatch the catch from her!" Gia shouted, loud enough for the entire Commission to hear. "I aimed that throw for Siena, and you intercepted it for her?"

Nero sighed wearily, treating my best friend like an annoying child.

"It's just a bouquet, Gia."

He placed a heavy hand on the small of my back, guiding me away from the scene.

"Don't make a scene," he whispered to me.

For the rest of the reception, I watched them from the high table.

Nero leaning in close as Valentina whispered something over his phone.

There was an easy intimacy between them, an invisible wall that shut me out.

Gia leaned over and slid her phone toward me.

Her family's intelligence network had pulled Valentina's security logs.

"Look at the timestamps," Gia whispered, her voice shaking with rage. "Valentina entered his private office at 2:00 AM. Three times this week."

I looked at the screen and said nothing.

On the way back to our fortified penthouse, the silence inside the armored SUV was suffocating.

Nero poured himself a whiskey from the car's minibar.

"You're too quiet," he said.

I watched the city lights blur past the tinted glass.

"Valentina crossed a line tonight," I said softly.

Nero rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink. He reached out, squeezing my knee.

"I promise, once I'm made Don, I'll throw you a wedding that's bigger and grander than this."

I turned to look at his handsome, cold face.

"Gia and I made a blood oath when we were kids to be married in the same week," I reminded him.

Nero let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"You need to grow up and stop holding onto childish games."

I remembered him rolling his eyes last month when Gia helped me try on bridesmaid dresses.

He had called the entire process a waste of resources.

The sheer tragedy of eight years of loyalty felt like a headstone-heavy and irrevocable.

The SUV pulled into our secure underground garage.

We took the private elevator to the penthouse in silence.

As we stepped into the dark hallway, Nero reached out, attempting to pull me against his chest.

I took a step back, letting his hands grasp at empty air.

Nero's hands dropped to his sides. In the silence, I heard the faint, rhythmic grind of his molars.

"If you're going to give me the cold shoulder over a bouquet, I'm not staying."

He pulled his car keys from his pocket, the metal clinking sharply in the still air.

"Valentina lives in a secluded area. I need to make sure she gets home safely."

I didn't say a word. I didn't stop him.

I simply watched as the heavy steel door clicked shut behind him, sealing me in the echo of his departure.

The moment he was gone, my shoulders slumped. I collapsed onto the leather sofa.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time, listening to the low hum of the central air, which sounded like the deep breathing of some great beast.

Slowly, I pushed myself up and walked down the dim hallway.

I stopped at the room at the far end.

It had reinforced steel walls and bulletproof glass to keep the scent of gunpowder and bleach away from the contents.

It was supposed to be our future nursery.

I walked to the small safe in the corner and clicked it open.

Inside were the mementos of eight years of surviving this brutal industry.

I pulled out a faded photo of us as teenagers.

Nero had his arms wrapped tightly around me, glaring at the camera with fierce protectiveness.

That day, he had promised to spend his life guarding mine.

I put the photo back and locked the safe, sealing away the broken promises.

It was past 3:00 AM when I heard the front door open.

Nero walked into the living room, loosening his tie with an air of exhaustion.

He smelled of expensive cigars and something else-the faint, cloying scent of vanilla perfume.

I was waiting for him, sitting in the dark.

"Feeling nostalgic?" he asked softly, noticing I was still awake.

"Did you get Valentina safely to her door?" I asked, my voice flat and calm.

"Her neighborhood is dangerous, Siena," he said, deftly sidestepping the real question.

He walked over and reached down, grabbing my arm to pull me up.

"Let's go to bed."

I jerked my shoulder, breaking his grip.

I stood up on my own, my legs stiff from sitting too long.

I looked directly into his dark eyes, searching for the boy in the photo and finding only a stranger.

"We're done, Nero."

He scoffed, a condescending smirk playing on his lips.

"You're throwing a tantrum over the bouquet."

He turned his back on me, walking toward the master bath, dismissing me entirely.

"I'll buy you a bigger, more expensive bouquet tomorrow to appease you."

I watched his broad shoulders move away from me, the final thread of our connection snapping.

"I'm getting married next week."

Nero stopped dead in his tracks.

The indulgent warmth on Nero's face vanished.

He turned slowly, replaced by the cold, ruthless mask of the Underboss.

His dark eyes pinned me, narrowing like a predator assessing a sudden threat.

"Don't play games with me, Siena," he rumbled, his voice dropping into a dangerous register.

He took a menacing step toward me, a warning in his stride. "Marriage isn't a bargaining chip in our world."

I kept my hands at my sides, feeling a strange, hollow sense of peace as the fear left me.

"The date is next Saturday," I said calmly.

I told him the name of the luxury hotel located in neutral territory.

"My dress is already tailored and waiting."

Nero let out a harsh laugh, his upper lip curling in distaste.

"Did Gia's wedding scramble your brain?"

He closed the distance between us, using his height to loom over me-a blatant display of dominance.

"This idiocy ends now," he growled.

"I've given you eight years. I've given you the best protection in this city."

He poked a heavy finger against my chest.

"Stop deluding yourself."

"The formal invitations will be printed and distributed by tomorrow morning," I replied coldly, unmoved by his posturing.

I had already made the arrangements. A decoy invitation with his name on it would be sent specifically to him to keep him humiliated, while the real ones went to Dante's sealed territories.

A vein pulsed in his temple, his annoyance curdling into a quiet, terrifying rage.

"You're being immature and unreasonable."

His hand shot out, his fingers hooking under my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his.

"I'm about to be Don," he hissed. "I won't be distracted by your petty demands."

"Are you really that desperate to be possessed by a man?" he snapped.

I stared into the depths of his eyes and could no longer find the boy who once loved me.

He didn't understand my emotional needs, and he never would.

Instead of flinching, I reached up and calmly peeled his fingers off my face.

"Yes," I admitted. "I want to be a wife."

Without another word, I turned and walked away.

I stepped into the master bedroom and shut the heavy oak door behind me, locking him out.