The Underboss Voted No So I Chose A New Life Chapter 01
A week before the wedding, my fiancé, Hadrian, told me to book eight seats on a bus to the Hamptons.
He said it was the last weekend before the wedding, a trip just for his inner circle.
The destination was the Bellini family’s private beachfront estate. He wanted to go with the people closest to him.
I refreshed the booking page for three days before I finally managed to snag eight seats together.
The moment I paid, a poll popped up in a group chat called “Beach Weekend.”
The question was: Should Mireille come?
Seven votes against. One abstention.
Not a single vote in my favor.
Hadrian was the Bellini family’s underboss. Once we were married, I was supposed to sit beside him at the formal family dinner, share his protection, and be bound by their code of silence.
And now, he had put my invitation to that estate up for a vote.
The people voting included my fiancé, my sister, his childhood friend, and my cousin.
I asked Hadrian if the abstention had been his.
He rubbed his temples.
“It was. I didn’t vote no. That was me trying to spare your feelings.”
He sighed. “Everyone thinks if you’re there, they won’t be able to relax.”
“This is the last weekend before my wedding that’s just for me. Can you just give me this?”
I asked, “Then why did you have me book eight seats?”
His answer came easily.
“You’re a travel editor. You’re the best at this stuff. We can use the extra seat for coolers and bags.”
He added, “I’ll transfer you the money in a minute.”
My sister, Sarah, spoke up from the dining table. “The wedding’s just days away. Don’t make a scene over a few tickets and drag the Bellini family into it.”
I looked down at the screen, at those eight connected seats.
I hadn’t spent three days fighting for them just to hand them over and walk away.
I had just booked a trip for the people closest to Hadrian, a trip that didn’t include me.
The app reminded me there were only ten minutes left to cancel.
But by then, whether the tickets were refundable was the last thing on my mind.
What I cared about was that when his inner circle shut me out, the man I was about to marry hadn’t even cast a single vote for me.
…
When the countdown hit nine minutes, Hadrian took my phone from my hand.
“Don’t do anything impulsive. These tickets were hard to get.”
He lowered his head to check the order. Only after confirming all eight seats were still there did he visibly relax.
I looked at him. “You were afraid I’d cancel them?”
“You’re angry right now. You’ll regret it later.”
“Regret what?”
“Messing up everyone’s plans.”
Then, right in front of me, he closed the cancellation page.
People in the Bellini family were used to obeying him. Hadrian rarely raised his voice. He didn’t need to.
He gave other people orders.
With me, he always made his orders sound like concern.
My sister sat at the dining table, peeling an orange.
“Once you’re married, Hadrian will be with you every day. It’s just three days. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”
“I never said he couldn’t go.”
“Then what is this?”
The orange peel snapped in her hand.
That expression—she’d had it ever since we were kids, every time she thought I was blowing things out of proportion.
“Mireille, you always make little things so much bigger than they are. You turn everything ugly.”
Hadrian put my phone back in my hand and transferred me eight hundred dollars.
The tickets had cost seven hundred fifty-two.
For the extra forty-eight, he added a note: *Don’t be mad. Buy yourself something nice.*
I sent the transfer back.
He gave a quiet laugh.
“Here we go again.”
“What does that mean?”
“You send the money back, then you wait for me to smooth things over. Mireille, I know this dance.”
He said it lightly, even lifting a hand to smooth the hair at my temple.
The gesture was so familiar my body reacted before my mind did.
I turned my head, and his hand fell on empty air.
He paused for two seconds.
“Fine. Calm down first. We’re still supposed to try on our registration outfits tonight. Don’t forget.”
Sarah checked the time and picked up her bag.
“I’m heading out, too.”
Hadrian nodded. “Oh, right. It gets chilly by the water at night. Let Chloe take that sun jacket I lent you—her skin gets irritated easily.”
I looked up at Sarah. “You’re not going?”
“Something came up. I can’t make it. That abstention was mine.”
She said it calmly.
“I didn’t vote against you. That counts as being on your side, doesn’t it?”
So even that one abstention hadn’t been from Hadrian.
I looked at him.
He went quiet for a moment, a flash of impatience crossing his face.
“Does it really matter who cast it? The result is the same.”
“Then why did you say it was you?”
“Because you kept pushing, and I just said it.”
He walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, then leaned back out. “What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll book a restaurant.”
As if the conversation was already over.
I didn’t answer. I went back to the bedroom.
At the very back of the closet sat a small tin keepsake box.
Inside was a bus ticket Hadrian had left behind seven years ago when he came from Boston to see me.
Back then, we were long-distance.
Every time he came, he’d mail me his return ticket afterward.
But the last time, he didn’t.
He pressed that ticket into my hand and said, “No more waiting for envelopes. I’m moving to New York. For you.”
He wasn’t the Bellini family’s underboss yet. Moving to my city did nothing for his standing.
He just wanted to be with me.
On the back of the ticket, two words he’d written were still there.
*Last one.*
I ran my thumb over the faded handwriting and slipped the ticket into an empty envelope.
My phone rang.
It was a message from my editor-in-chief.
“Austin still needs someone to head the bureau.”
“You said last time you were getting married and didn’t want to relocate.”
“I’m holding the position for you. Give me an answer by tonight.”
Three months ago, I’d turned it down for Hadrian.
In the living room, he was forwarding ticket details to everyone going on the trip.
No one asked why I wasn’t on the list.
I typed a few words into the reply box.
*I accept.*
Just as the message sent, Hadrian pushed the bedroom door open.
He glanced at the envelope in my hand and smiled.
“Going through old bus tickets to comfort yourself again?”
He leaned against the doorframe. “I’m taking you out for sushi tonight. Stop dwelling on it.”
I slid the envelope into the drawer.
He didn’t know.
This time, the ticket with *Last one* written on it was going back to him.