Weeks ago at dinner with Don Vicari, I’d stood up to the fucker when he was an asshole to Isabella.

Because there was an unspoken rule:

A man who won’t stick up for his woman is a piece of shit, unworthy of respect.

And yet…

I hadn’t stood up for Caterina.

I hadn’t stood up for the woman I loved.

I hadn’t evenadmittedto myself that I loved her until it was too late –

But I’d known.

I’dalwaysknown.

It was just like Cat had said:

I’d always treated her like a dirty little secret –

Like a side chick instead of the woman I loved.

Because I was fucking stupid.

Because I wanted my ‘freedom.’

Because I didn’t want to be tied down.

But it all came down to one thing:

I’d acted like a boy…

Not a man.

I’d failed the ultimate test of being a man, and the only one that fucking mattered:

I hadn’t treasured the woman I loved.

I’d let her down over and over and over again.

Cat hadneverlet me down, not once –

But I’d failed her every single time.

I’d been stupid…

And immature…

And selfish…

And I fuckinghatedmyself for it.

It wasn’t Niccolo who was to blame; it was me.

And now I was going to pay for it for the rest of my life.

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