I Crossed the World for Him, But He Chose Her Chapter 01
Joanna Falconeri’s POV
Three years of long distance. After working nonstop for a month straight, I’d finally scraped together enough time off to visit my mafia boyfriend, only to find that he’d gone completely unreachable.
I waited ten hours in a city where I didn’t know a single soul before he finally got back to me.
What I heard through the speaker was the giggling of my so-called best friend.
“Surprise, Jo! I already went to Riverton for you. It was amazing. And Dante? Honestly, best tour guide I’ve ever had!”
She went on and on about how they’d gotten a private viewing at some underground auction, how they’d shut down an entire street to eat at a restaurant, apparently blind to the thirty missed calls flashing on his screen.
I listened in silence until she shivered and said, “Brrr, it’s freezing.”
Dante took the phone. His tone was clipped. “I’m taking her back to the hotel. Wait a little longer.”
After a beat, I asked softly, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?”
Dante paused. When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to be a reprimand aimed at some subordinate who didn’t know his place.
“She’s your friend. And you’re really going to make this about you?”
That rebuke hung between us like an unsheathed blade.
My throat closed up. I hung up.
The rideshare driver taking me back to King’s Cross Station glanced over at me.
“Kid, it’s past midnight. This area’s rough. Who the hell left you out here alone?”
I looked down at my shoes, soaked through with sleet. “Yeah,” I murmured.
Then I smiled.
“Never again.”
—
It took Dante two hours to realize I was gone.
His ringtone was a grating American rock song I’d always hated, the kind he blasted while cleaning up a scene, the kind that made your temples throb.
Once, I’d teased him about switching it to the soft jazz I liked. He’d ignored me completely.
“Am I supposed to change everything about myself for you now?”
The humiliation still burned.
But just moments ago, my former best friend Mia had posted on social media:
[Ugh. Recommended this song to some idiot three months ago. I’m already sick of it and he’s still using it as his ringtone.]
Dante replied three minutes later: [Who’s the idiot?]
So childish that I could barely reconcile him with the man who made people disappear on the streets of Sicily in the time it took to finish half a cigarette.
[You, dummy.]
Mia’s response was instant.
The phone kept ringing.
I almost laughed. How many hearts did Dante Rossi have, to split himself so perfectly between two women?
When I didn’t pick up, he switched to texting.
[Where the hell are you? Stop being so dramatic. I’m exhausted.]
He sounded so aggrieved, as if I were the one wasting his precious time outside of “family business.”
The driver spoke up again, uneasy.
“Kid, you didn’t hear? Two days ago, right at that station, a woman was attacked. She didn’t make it. The whole city’s on edge.”
“If you were my daughter and I’d left you out there, I wouldn’t sleep for a week.”
My fingers trembled slightly. I looked at the screen again.
[Why do you have to be so difficult? It’s not like I left you for days.]
[Mia is a guest AND your friend. Would it kill you to be polite?]
My hand shook beside the phone. A dull blade scraped along the inside of my ribs.
The driver noticed my tears and quickly backtracked. “Hey, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
I shook my head, eyes stinging. Somewhere inside the pain, there was a sliver of relief. “No. Thank you.”
Then Dante texted: [Forget it. I’m done trying to reason with you. Cool off on your own.]
Twenty-eight messages total. Twenty-seven and a half of them were variations of “you’re so difficult.” The last one was “I’m done with you.”
Exhaustion crashed over me like a wave. I turned off my phone and fell asleep.
I woke up when we reached my building. The driver had seen me sleeping and waited an extra three hours.
I gave him a hundred-dollar tip.
He smiled, patted my shoulder, and left.
“Kid, go dry your feet. They’re soaked through.”
I nodded, throat tight.