My fiancé, Luca, dragged me along to a party with his crew. We had barely walked through the door before his boys were hounding him to play "Seven Minutes in Heaven."

"Angelina, babe, come join us!" Fiona, Luca’s "best friend" from back home, called out to me with a smirk.

I shook my head and slipped onto a barstool, my fingers nervously tracing the rim of my glass. I watched them huddle in a circle, drawing cigar bands with names scribbled on them.

Luca drew Fiona. They shared a laugh before disappearing into the storage room behind the bar.

"Seven minutes! Starting... now!" someone hollered, followed by a chorus of whistles.

But seven minutes came and went. The door stayed shut.

Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty...

I finally stood up, my heart hammering against my ribs, ready to see what was going on. Just then, I heard Luca’s friends whispering in a thick Sicilian dialect.

"This American guy... her head is greener than a lemon tree in Palermo and she doesn’t even know it."

"I bet Luca and Fiona are having the time of their lives in there right now."

"Poor Boston girl. Look at her, sitting there like a loyal little dog. Hilarious."

I froze. My blood turned to ice, and the air felt too thin to breathe.

Suddenly, the storage room door creaked open. Luca walked out, wiping sweat from his brow, followed closely by Fiona, who was busy smoothing out her rumpled shirt.

"Whoa, how was it? Seven minutes in heaven live up to the hype?" someone teased.

Luca smirked, his eyes glazed with satisfaction. "Better. I didn't want to leave."

Luca strolled over and draped an arm around my shoulders, playing the part of the doting fiancé perfectly. It wasn't until he leaned in that I saw it—the smear of lipstick on his collar and the fresh hickey blooming on Fiona’s neck.

I slumped back onto the barstool, my soul feeling like it had been hollowed out. I dug my nails into my palms so hard they bled, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.

His friends started badgering him in Sicilian, fishing for the dirty details. Luca, perhaps feeling a flicker of guilt, glanced at me before sitting down and pulling me into his lap.

"Hey, what are you nervous for? She doesn't understand a word of Sicilian. If we were speaking English, then you’d have a reason to sweat!"

"She’ll never wrap her head around the dialect. Right, boys? Hahaha!"

"You guys are mean, picking on poor Angelina just because she's a Yank."

Hearing his friends' reassurance, Luca finally relaxed. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips. "Don't mind them, Angelina. We’re all from Sicily; we just slip into the mother tongue when we’re together. Force of habit."

I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white. What they didn't know was that my grandmother was Sicilian. I had been fluent in the dialect since I was a child.

Taking my silence for ignorance, they got even cruder.

"Luca, tell the truth—is Fiona’s technique better than hers? I’ve got money riding on this."

Luca didn't skip a beat. "Definitely."

The guys groaned in envy. "Look at that 'just got laid' grin on your face. You lucky bastard."

"Damn, playing it like this is such a rush! I never realized how useful the dialect was until today."

"Look at that stupid woman, sitting there looking pathetic, not understanding a damn word."

Fiona shot me a look of pure disdain before turning to Luca. "Luca, why don't you just marry me instead? Drop her."

Luca reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with a mocking tenderness. "Marry you? Not a chance."

"I know how to separate business from pleasure. You’re my side piece—the one who gives me the thrills and the novelty. But Angelina? She’s the one I’m marrying."

"Can you handle the docks in New York Harbor? Can you talk to the Godfather for me? Only Angelina can do that. Last time the FBI was crawling up my tail, she made one phone call and moved her family’s entire legal team."

My throat tightened. I had done so much for him. I loved him with everything I had, and he had turned my loyalty into a joke.

"Oh no..." Fiona suddenly gasped, covering her mouth in fake horror.

"What is it?" Luca asked.

"You were too rough... my bra is torn and I left it in there," Fiona whispered, her face flushing. "What if someone sees it?"

"Damn it, Fiona. You’ve gotta be more careful," Luca hissed, frowning.

Fiona’s eyes flickered to me. "Hey... why don't we let Angelina go grab it? She’s the 'perfect wife' type, isn't she? So helpful."

"You..." Luca pretended to hesitate.

Fiona pressed on. "Angelina, honey, I know you're the best. You wouldn't want me to be embarrassed, would you? It was a limited edition Victoria’s Secret..."

Luca picked up his whiskey, downed it in one go, and looked at me. "Angelina, Fiona was playing a 'dare' and left her bra in the back. You're a girl, go help her out and grab it for her."

I stared at him, my heart turning to stone. Not a single person in this room had a shred of decency.

I had completely underestimated Luca. In the three years I’d known him, he’d played the role of the steady, reliable heir perfectly. He always told me he loathed betrayal. Turns out, he was just a hell of a liar.

I looked up, my eyes raw as I met his gaze. Seeing the sudden coldness in my expression, he faltered.

"Angelina? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

He reached out to touch my forehead. He smelled like Fiona’s perfume. I flinched away.

"Luca, I think we need to postpone the wedding."

The color drained from his face. He grabbed my arm. "Angelina, what are you talking about? What’s wrong?"

I pried his hand off me, my voice trembling. "Nothing’s wrong. Don't worry."

"I’m just worried that getting married so young will tie you down. We’re both young. Maybe you should play around a bit longer before we settle down."

Luca let out a relieved laugh. He pulled me into a hug, burying his face in my chest. "I knew you were the sweetest. Thank you for always thinking about me, babe."

He had no idea I was already done with him. He shot a smug, triumphant look at Fiona and the boys.

"Damn, talk about a hopeless romantic!"

"I wonder if her family knows she’s this naive."

They were all laughing at me, treating me like a fool. I bit my lip. Let them laugh. Because whoever tries to make a joke out of me is about to become the punchline.

I turned and went into the storage room. The second I left, I heard them practically pouncing on each other.

"Man, you’re living the dream. Getting served by two women at once? Only you, Luca."

"Shut up. You’d do the same if you could."

"Whatever, I’m out. My goddess is waiting for me at the hotel."

I hurried away, the hem of my dress cutting through the air. The storage room was pitch black. I flicked on my phone light and headed for the sofa.

As I bent down to pick up the scrap of black lace, I glanced at the window behind the sofa. It looked out into the back alley.

Luca and Fiona were already out there, tangled together. Fiona was still in that rumpled dress, and Luca was hiking it up to her waist.

"Let’s go to the private dock in Long Island tomorrow," I heard Luca growl.

"Ugh, I don't know. I'm tired."

"Riding a speedboat on the water won't be tiring, trust me," Luca laughed.

Fiona rubbed her leg against him, and Luca let out a low groan.

"By the way," Fiona whispered, "your American fiancé... she won't find out, will she?"

"Please. She’s an idiot. I could sell her and she’d help me count the cash."

"Hahaha! I almost feel bad for her!"

Their voices faded, but every word was etched into my brain. I took a deep breath and walked out. I made sure to make enough noise with my heels before pushing the door open.

"Did you find it, Angelina?" Fiona asked, feigning concern.

"Got it." I handed the bra to her, my face a mask of calm.

Fiona blinked, clearly thrown off by how composed I was. "Oh... uh, thanks."

"You're welcome." I smiled thinly and sat back down.

The next day, Luca took me out, just like he said—to the private dock on Long Island.

When we arrived, his crew was already there, cracking jokes. "You guys are bold. Bringing Angelina here while you 'play' on the boat? Aren't you worried she’ll catch on?"

"Who’s gonna tell her? Not us."

"That’s the point. The thrill of getting caught is half the fun!"

Luca ignored them and led me toward the speedboat. After a few minutes, he claimed he needed to check the engine at the end of the pier. He told me to stay by the boat and make sure nobody touched it.

My throat felt tight. I looked at the bag he was carrying—it was stuffed with toys and lingerie. He’d snuck out of bed last night to pack it while I lay there awake, listening to him whisper to Fiona about what positions they were going to try today.

I hadn't slept a wink. Instead, I had texted my father. I was moving to Miami to take over the family’s hotel business. I was leaving today. And I was never seeing Luca again.

Luca couldn't get away fast enough. Watching his retreating back, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold hand.

I followed him stealthily, hiding behind a shipping container. I watched as Luca and Fiona crashed into each other’s arms.

Fiona pulled out a skimpy swimsuit, but Luca told her he wanted to "put it on her" himself. They laughed like teenagers, their hands all over each other, before things got graphic.

Fiona was breathless, complaining that the container was too rough against her skin.

Luca just nipped her ear. "There’s a first time for everything, babe. Doesn't the adrenaline make it better?"

"You’re terrible!"

"Hahaha! That idiot has no clue we’re doing this right behind her back while she ‘guards’ the boat for us."

"You’re so bad! If Angelina’s father ever found out, he’d have your head on a platter."

"Psh. You wouldn't let him. You’d miss this too much."

I stood behind the cold steel of the container, my nails drawing blood from my palms. Tears finally broke through. Every word felt like a jagged needle to the heart.

"Alright, we gotta make this quick. Angelina’s waiting."

"No... I’m not done with you yet."

I had never seen Luca like this—reckless, vulgar, like a completely different person.

I turned to leave, but my foot slipped on the slick wood of the pier. Before I could catch myself, I tumbled into the freezing water.

The shock hit me like a physical blow. The water closed over my head. I surfaced, gasping, and grabbed the edge of the dock.

"Luca! Luca, help me!"

I screamed until my throat was raw, but nobody answered. I clung to the dock with one hand and managed to pull my phone out with the other. I dialed Luca’s number. Over and over.

No answer. He was too busy in his own world.

Finally, on the twentieth try, he picked up. He sounded annoyed. "Angelina, I’m still checking the engine! Stop calling me, you’re stressing me out. If the engine blows, we're stuck here."

"Luca... I fell in," I sobbed, my voice shaking with cold. "Please, help me... I can't get up..."

Luca just scoffed. "God, stop being so dramatic. The water at the dock isn't even deep. Just climb out yourself. You Boston girls are so high-maintenance."

My hand slipped. I went under again, the salt water burning my throat. I thrashed blindly until my fingers brushed against a floating wooden plank.

The call was still active. I could hear Fiona’s giggles and Luca’s heavy breathing in the background. They heard me drowning, and they didn't care.

Given the choice between love and lust, he chose lust every single time.

I clung to that plank, my tears disappearing into the ocean. In that moment, the last bit of love I had for him died.