The Runaway Wife's Secret Heir

opening, clutching a glass of warm champagne,

o of the Chicago Ou

alert on my phon

stress, Isabella, from the rain. He was touching her wit

ame hi

needed me.

home to cry. I went to his office the next morning with

me for being a boring housewife, Dante

gone so he could

the divo

the asset

ng, he signed the irrevocable r

had a cruel sense of humor. That night,

Sovrano heir he h

signed away his right

into the snow to raise my baby away

safe, until si

ust sent men t

nd, destroying his status as King, just to prove

pte

Sovran

ng a glass of champagne that had turned to vinegar in my mouth,

news alert from th

o Families Unite:

o, the Capo dei Capi of the Chicago Outfit. He looked lethal, devastatingly handsome in his c

wasn'

back, shielding her from the downpour as they ducked into a black SUV. The body l

ike they belo

walls adorned with the paintings I had poured my soul into for the last four years. This gallery opening was

wasn'

woman who carried a gun in her purse and kn

la

tching me. His eyes held that look I had gr

i

Julian asked softly, winci

elt brittle, like fine

asting like bile. "You know how it is. The merg

ading my personal space with his sympathy. "The

le sha

the art critics, the socialites-they were all looking at me. They weren't looking at my art. They were looking at th

ed them down. I had cried enough tears in the lon

ed again. A t

ded me to smooth over a negotia

la nee

h

rniture to be dusted and cover

ghter for four years, suddenly snapped. It wasn't a loud break.

n. Dante's hand on her bac

bsent or demanding. I was an asset he had acquired to secure terri

Julian asked, re

oldness that washed over me

voice unnervingly steady. "Ac

rs, and into the cool Chicago night.

he corner into the shadows and dialed a number I had m

d when the li

yer sounded surprised.

nt. "Draft the papers. The divorce. The relinq

If Dante find

s I'm a vapid artist who paints pret

t the life I had tried to build

ce to bury him, Mark. Have th

y hands were

n four years, I wasn

one holdin