I Married The Don 3 Years While He Kept His Mistress 7 Years Chapter 03
The moment the strap of my nightgown slid down my shoulder—
What I felt wasn’t anticipation. It was Chiara.
That rose scent—it was her perfume. The one she always wore.
Then I thought of the torn stockings in the trash.
Her bare legs.
That flash of white under her skirt…
I pushed him away with everything I had.
Barefoot, I ran to the bathroom and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet, gagging.
He didn’t come in. Just stood in the doorway, watching me with that cold stare.
When I came out after rinsing my mouth, Lorenzo’s face had gone completely hard.
“You really find me that disgusting?”
“Last time was the same. This time too. If you hate me so much—”
He gritted his teeth.
“—then why did you even marry me in the first place?”
My mind went back three years.
When we first got married, things weren’t this bad.
We’d go back to the old house in Palermo sometimes. Have dinner with Grandma on holidays.
That first night, things heated up. We held each other. Kissed. Went to bed.
I was a virgin. Scared. And it hurt so much I couldn’t stop crying.
After a few tries, Lorenzo seemed to lose interest.
He stopped halfway, said “I need a smoke,” got up, put on his robe, and walked out.
He never touched me again after that night.
Thinking of this, I pushed away him and started getting dressed.
I was finally awake now.
There was no such thing as love after marriage—not for me.
I couldn’t keep debasing myself, trying to use my body to hold onto a man who didn’t want me.
“Why?”
Lorenzo’s hand hit the closet door, caging me in between him and the wood.
He let out a laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“You’ve always been so good. And now you’re doing all this—over a rug?”
I forced myself to stay calm.
“Because of Chiara.”
I lifted my head and met his eyes.
“If you two are such a good match, you should have told me sooner. I would have stepped aside.”
“Why waste three years of my life? I don’t understand.”
For the first time, I worked up the courage to fight back.
“Today is our third anniversary. You don’t even remember, do you?”
“While I was in the kitchen cooking, you were in the study having sex with her. Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
Lorenzo’s face shifted. But he didn’t lose his composure. He just pressed his lips together and said:
“I’m thirty-five years old. Before I married you, did you expect me to have no needs at all?”
“Chiara’s been with me for seven years. She’s just a bed partner. Nothing more. No feelings involved.”
The way he said “bed partner”—so casual, like he was telling me what he had for dinner.
I staggered back, let out a bitter laugh.
“So. You two have been sleeping together for seven years.”
I did the math in my head.
“Even at our wedding—she was running around helping us, and you two were sneaking off behind my back the whole time?”
I stared at him, eyes wide, the pain and hurt pressing down on my chest so hard I could barely breathe.
Lorenzo froze. He looked like he wanted to explain something.
He hesitated for a long time. Then he just reached out to pull me in.
“Half the men in this life have a dozen women on the side. You know Don Martelli just buried his third mistress last month?”
“I don’t. I only have Chiara. She takes care of my needs. No love, no feelings. Just an arrangement. You get it?”
“She gives me her body. I give her money and connections. You—”
Slap.
I hit him. My hand was shaking.
I couldn’t take it.
The way he talked about sex like it was nothing—like I was the one being unreasonable.
Like three years of sleeping alone in my marriage was somehow my fault.
I didn’t even bother packing. I just grabbed my phone, shoved him out of my way, and ran for the door.
“Lorenzo Greco—”
I turned back, my voice breaking.
“You disgust me!”