Six Years with the Don, and He Married Her

I spend six years helping Damian Moretti fight his way to the top, and almost every powerful man in New York’s business elite has seen me at his side. By day, I handle investors, private dinners, and business deals for Moretti Holdings. By night, I am the woman Damian keeps hidden. Now he is finally the Don, and tonight’s victory dinner is packed with people who came to celebrate him. My name is not on the guest list. - I still come anyway, carrying a report that says I am seven weeks pregnant. I stop outside the private dining room when I hear Luca DeLuca ask, “Claire stayed with you through the worst six years of your life. You’re really not going to marry her?” Damian turns his glass once in his hand. “She’s been around too many men for too long. She’s not wife material.” My fingers tighten around the report. Luca lowers his voice. “What if she gets pregnant?” Damian does not even look up. “Then I’d want a paternity test first.” Four words, and six years disappear. I fold the report in half. Tonight, I will hand him my resignation. As for the baby, he will never get the chance to test anything. And as for Damian Moretti, I am done. Inside the room, Luca speaks again. “So what makes Sofia different?” “Claire is my assistant.” Luca laughs. “An assistant who’s been in your bed for six years?” A few men chuckle. Damian does not deny it. “Love is one thing. Marriage is another.” My hand slowly closes around the door handle. Luca asks, “And Sofia? I heard you two already made it official.” A glass touches the table. “A month ago.” For a second, I cannot breathe. A month ago, Damian told me he was leaving New York to meet investors. He was not meeting investors. He was marrying Sofia Romano. “What happens to Claire?” Luca asks. “She can keep the apartment. I’ll transfer enough money for her to live comfortably.” Damian pauses. “She gave me six years. I won’t leave her with nothing.” “You think she’ll stay after she finds out?” Damian says nothing. I let go of the handle and walk away. Victor Caruso steps into my path before I reach the elevator. He is one of Moretti Holdings’ business partners, and he has never bothered hiding the way he looks at me. “Claire. Big night for your boss. Have a drink with me.” “I’m off the clock.” I move around him. His arm locks around my waist before I can take another step, and his hand slides down the side of my dress. “Stop pretending you’re too good for this,” he says. “Everyone knows how you helped Moretti win deals. You think those men were paying attention to your spreadsheets?” I shove him hard. “Take your hands off me.” Victor’s face darkens. He has tried this before, but Damian once warned him to keep his hands off me. That had been enough to make Victor back off. Tonight, rumors about Damian and Sofia are everywhere. Victor clearly thinks there is no one left who would make him regret touching me. He grabs my wrist. “Don’t embarrass yourself.” People begin turning toward us. The dining-room doors open. Damian walks out. Our eyes meet. For one stupid second, I think he will come to me. Instead, he looks past me. Sofia Romano is approaching with several members of her family. Damian steps forward to greet her. Before he goes back inside, he says quietly to one of his men, “Get Claire out of here. Don’t let her ruin tonight.” I stare at him. He knows exactly what kind of man Victor is. The last time Victor harassed a junior employee, Damian personally called him and made him stop. But tonight, he chooses not to see me. Victor’s grip tightens. I reach for the nearest glass and throw the drink in his face. The hallway goes silent. Victor freezes, then raises his hand. I grab the bottle from the table beside us. “Touch me again,” I say, “and everyone here will know exactly what Victor Caruso does to women at a Moretti event.” His hand stops in midair. I set the bottle down and turn away. Behind me, Damian’s voice cuts through the hallway. “Claire. Stop.”

I do not look back. By the time I get home, I have already pulled out a suitcase and started packing. Damian does not return until one in the morning. The moment he sees the suitcase by the door, his expression hardens. “What are you doing now?” “Moving out.” He puts one hand on the lid of the suitcase. “Because of what happened tonight?” I look at him. “Victor had too much to drink. I had someone send him home. Do you have any idea how much trouble you could cause by throwing a drink in his face in front of everyone?” “Do you know what he did to me?” Damian looks away. “He was drunk.” “So I was supposed to let him touch me?” “Tonight was important. Half the people there are tied to our business or the Romano alliance. You’re my assistant. You should know when not to make a scene.” The words cut deeper than I expect, but I only smile. “Fine. I’ll remember that.” His expression eases. He reaches for me. “Stop this. I’ll have someone send you a new dress tomorrow.” I step away before he can touch me. “You married Sofia.” His hand stops in midair. “Who told you?” “I heard you say it yourself outside the dining room.” For a moment, neither of us speaks. Damian loosens his tie, already irritated. “The marriage is part of the Romano alliance. I was going to tell you when the timing was right.” “When would that be? After she got pregnant? After you held the wedding?” “Claire, don’t do this.” He looks at me as if what he is saying should make perfect sense. “Being married to Sofia doesn’t have to change what we have. We can keep things the way they were.” “The way they were?” I ask. “You mean I stay in your bed while your wife wears your name?” His face darkens. “I don’t like that tone.” Of course he doesn’t. By day, I am the assistant who follows his orders. At night, I am the woman who shares his bed and asks for nothing he does not want to give. “Damian, we’re done.” My voice comes out calmer than I feel. “You should think before you make a decision like that.” “I have. I’m done being the woman you hide.” Something shifts in his eyes, but it disappears almost immediately. His usual composure returns. “You can keep the apartment. I’ll transfer enough money to make sure you’re taken care of.” I nod. “Fine.” That answer clearly catches him off guard. He steps closer. “You agreed pretty fast.” He stops in front of me and looks down at me. “Don’t tell me you thought spending six years in my bed made you special.” His eyes are red now, but his voice stays cold. “For six years, it happened to be you. It could just as easily have been someone else.” The words hit exactly where he means them to. I smile anyway. “If it could have been anyone, losing me shouldn’t matter.” I pick up my phone. “And while we’re ending things, process my resignation.” His jaw tightens. “Don’t push me.” He watches me as if he expects anger, tears, anything that proves I am bluffing. I give him nothing. After a long silence, he takes out his phone and makes my resignation effective immediately. “Fine.” His voice turns flat. “Don’t come begging for your job back at Moretti Holdings.” I put my phone away and meet his eyes. “I won’t.” This time, I mean it. I am never coming back.