I Sold His Gifts To Leave My Mafia Husband Chapter 11
“Let him.”
“You’re not worried?”
I looked at my reflection in the glass of the front door.
My surname on the sign was Bellandi.
“The withdrawal papers are in effect, and the account copies are in the adviser’s hands. If he dares to send men to drag me back, those records will end up in front of every district head in the Family.”
I had kept a copy for one reason only: to ensure Matteo could never again use the Family’s power to decide whether I stayed or left.
I turned my phone facedown on the counter and went back to piping frosting.
On a Saturday in my sixth month in Savannah, I opened at six as usual.
When I rolled up the shutter, I saw someone standing outside.
It was Matteo, wearing a black overcoat.
He had lost a lot of weight. The coat hung loose from his shoulders. His jaw was covered in stubble, his eyes were hollow, and a pale scar ran from his knuckles across the back of his right hand.
There was no deputy signet ring on his finger, no gun at his waist.
The moment he saw me, his whole body went rigid.
His eyes were red-rimmed.
“Daisy.” His voice was rough. “I’ve been looking for you for five months.”
I kept one hand on the shutter’s handle.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to take you home.”
He took a step forward.
I stepped back, holding the metal handle of the shutter horizontally between us like a barrier.
“My home isn’t with you. Say what you came to say and leave. I have to open for business.”
“Daisy.”
His voice rose sharply, then dropped at once, as if he were afraid of disturbing the person sleeping upstairs.
“I was wrong. Bianca has been sent back to the Conti family. The dock terms are void. I don’t want the deputy position anymore. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
“What does any of that have to do with me?”
I cut him off.