The Don Who Called Me Dirty, Begged Me Back Later Chapter 01
Salvatore DeLuca. To the outside world, the CEO of a multinational corporation. Behind closed doors, the Don who held the eastern docks.
Before he married me, he made me take eight gynecological exams.
He had an obsession with purity that bordered on pathological. Without that certificate, he couldn’t convince himself to marry me. I felt humiliated. But I loved him, so I went.
On our wedding night, Salvatore barely entered me before his face changed.
He shoved me off him. “You’ve been touched by someone else. You disgust me.”
His tone made it sound like I was a traitor to the family.
I told him it was an injury from high school gym class. He laughed dismissively. “That’s what every woman who isn’t intact says.”
For three years after that, he never touched me. He would avoid even brushing my fingers when handing me a glass of water. I kept telling myself he would change with time.
Until the night I finished working late and went to his office for a signature.
The door was ajar. Salvatore sat naked in his leather chair. The woman straddling him deliberately arched her back, refusing to let him hold her. His voice carried a tenderness I had never heard from him before. “Stop it. If you catch cold, I will be worried sick.”
I stood in the doorway. The files slipped from my hands and hit the floor.
He looked up at the sound. Those ice-blue eyes stayed calm. “Wait outside. I will get dressed and talk to you.”
I did not move. Salvatore DeLuca — the dirty one was you all along.
“How annoying. Your Donna saw us.” A girl’s coy laughter came from inside the room. Salvatore’s voice betrayed no panic. If anything, it carried indulgence. “I will have Mark drive you home. Dress warm.”
I stood in the hallway. The draft cut through me.
The door opened. Bianca Moretti, his new secretary, walked out wearing Salvatore’s suit jacket. As she passed me, she stopped. Her red lips brushed my ear as she lowered her voice. “Salvatore says you are too boring in bed. Like a dead fish. Only I can satisfy him.”
She deliberately leaned forward, showing off the dark marks on her neck.
I did not respond to her provocation.
Salvatore stepped out of the office. He buttoned the top button of his shirt slowly, his expression perfectly composed, as if nothing had happened. Bianca naturally straightened his crooked tie. He did not even look at me. He tilted his head down slightly to accommodate her.
“What are you doing here?”
I held out the project approval documents I had spent three months working on. His hand reached out, then his gaze landed on my fingertips. He paused almost imperceptibly. Then he took the folder by the corner, deliberately avoiding contact with my skin.
Three years of marriage, and he would even avoid my fingers when handing me water. I used to tell myself it was some kind of condition. A psychological block he could not get past. Turns out, the only barrier was me.
“Come on, I will drive you home.” He turned and walked toward the elevator.
The car smelled sweet and cloying — faint traces of her perfume.
Salvatore drove with one hand on the wheel. “Do not mention what happened today.” He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, a warning in his voice. “Bianca is just a kid. She only started at the company. She would not survive the rumors.”
I watched the streetlights rushing past the window. My voice came out quiet. “What about me?”
Salvatore frowned. Impatience crept into his voice. “As my wife, you should know your place. She means nothing. You will always be the Don’s wife. What more could you possibly want?”
I turned to look at his cold, aristocratic face.
Three years ago, after my eighth gynecological exam, I sat in the hospital corridor holding that cold report, crying until I could not breathe. I called him. He said one thing.