At the peak of the whole “if she wants it, she gets it” trend online, I saw an Instagram post from my fiancé’s little assistant—the assistant to Luca, New York’s newly risen Don. “Just said yesterday I wanted a Chevy. Today Don bought me one.” Attached was a photo of the fully loaded, top-of-the-line model. And Luca, who never touched social media, had—against all precedent—left a comment underneath: “Bianca wants, Bianca gets.” I froze. Yesterday, Luca had asked me what I wanted. I’d said a Chevy Spark. I thought he was going to buy one for me. Turns out it was for his little assistant. So it wasn’t that he couldn’t indulge people. He just didn’t want to indulge me. Fine. From now on, whatever I want, I’ll get for myself. …… Luca walked in just as I finished reading that post. His eyes flicked to my phone screen. “Angry?” His voice was flat, indifferent. I said nothing, just looked at him quietly. “She needs a car more than you do.” “She runs my documents, my errands, picks up my clients. She can’t be taking Ubers forever.” “You don’t work, you don’t have a career. What do you need a car for? To let it collect dust in the garage?” He explained it calmly, driving each word straight into my chest. For him, I’d walked away from my job at Goldman Sachs. I’d helped him claw his way up from that old Brooklyn walk-up where the heat only worked half the time to where he stood today. I’d studied every possible variation on what he could eat, trying to be gentle on his stomach. Because he worried strangers coming and going through the house was a security risk, I went out personally to buy every last supply—even in a downpour. Now he was the Don whose name rang through all of New York, and I was asking him for a thirteen-thousand-dollar Chevy Spark. And he was telling me I didn’t deserve it. “Are you so poor you can only afford one car? You could easily buy one for each of us. You went out of your way to do it like this, just to belittle me. Luca—do you even realize what you’ve become?” “Every day, rain or shine, blazing sun, I either walk a dozen blocks for groceries or I take an Uber. All I wanted was a Spark that cost a little over ten grand. Is that so much to ask?” “From now on, I won’t come to you about anything. I won’t need you to give me a damn thing.” I got it all out in one breath. My voice was already trembling. Luca just looked at me and said, impatiently, “Could you keep your voice down?” I stood there, stunned. He thought I was loud. Once upon a time, he was the one who never stopped talking to me. In that cramped old apartment in Brooklyn. He’d lean against the headboard, hold my hand, and murmur on into the small hours, painting the future for me again and again. Back then he said: “The day the name Moretti earns a seat at the Five Families’ table, I swear I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.” “When that day comes, I’ll propose to you at the most glorious spot in the whole of New York, in front of everyone. I’ll give you a wedding worthy of you.” I used to smile foolishly along with him, picturing our future a thousand times over. And now, he’d done it. The name Moretti rang loud through Manhattan. But there was a new little shadow at his side. Bianca Russo, turning up in every corner of our lives. Dinners. Operas. Weekends in the Hamptons. Everywhere. Under the noble excuse: an assistant has to manage his work and his life, she can’t leave his sight. The door swung open. Bianca strolled in from the foyer, twirling car keys around her finger. “Don, this car handles beautifully. Anywhere you want to go from now on, I can drive you.” She was beaming. Luca couldn’t help himself. He reached up and ruffled her hair. His voice was tender: “Happiness belongs to those who know when they’ve got enough. I’ll get you a better one next time.” I stood there behind him, frozen. I understood. He was telling me I didn’t know when I had enough. But there was something I wanted to tell him. Just yesterday, Goldman Sachs had sent me an email. My old boss, Julian Ashford, was inviting me back to the bank. Back to my industry. He’d forgotten long ago—before he ever met me, I had been one of the youngest team leads at Goldman. Not this thing standing behind him, holding out her hand for a runabout. I gave up all of it for him, willingly. Yesterday, I’d planned to decline. Now, I wanted to accept.
Bianca smiled, smug all through her expression. “A little car like this is more than enough for me!” She turned toward me. “Ava, I’ll bet you’ve got a whole garage of cars to rotate through, don’t you?” I answered mildly: “Not right now. But I will.” Luca’s brow snapped into a frown. “When did I agree to buy you a car?” “You don’t need a car. Just keep the house in order.” I let out a soft, scornful laugh. In his eyes, if I said I wanted a car, it could only mean I was waiting for him to buy it. But what I meant was—I’d buy it myself, from now on. “Ava doesn’t work, so honestly, she has no real need for a car. Cooking a little, cleaning a little at home—must be so easy.” Bianca chimed in at just the right moment. Luca glanced at me. Two words: “True.” Suddenly the whole thing struck me as absurd. His stomach was bad. He couldn’t eat takeout. Every day I invented new ways to simmer him chicken broth, to make low-oil, low-salt home cooking. A single stew meant three hours standing over the stove. The three-story townhouse—he refused to hire a housekeeper. “I can’t sleep easy on things strangers have touched,” he’d say. Just cleaning it took an entire afternoon. All he ever did was come home to a steaming dinner and a spotless house. He’d simply never seen the rest. My throat went tight. “Luca, anyone in the world can call me idle. Anyone but you.” He caught the emotion I couldn’t quite hold down in my eyes, and something like guilt flickered in his. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bianca cut him off. “Ava, you have no idea how hard Don works every day. I’m the only one who sees it—out at dawn, home at midnight, and how many things he has to handle. You really should be more understanding. Even I feel sorry for him, and I’m just his assistant.” Luca looked down at her and smiled. “You little thing, so you actually know how to feel sorry for me?” “Didn’t spoil you for nothing.” Bianca lifted her chin. “Too bad your fiancée doesn’t know how to look after you. Guess I’ll just have to be even better to you from now on!” Luca laughed and tapped her lightly on the head. When he turned back to me, all the warmth was gone from his eyes. “Ava, do you see?” “Bianca runs herself ragged for me every day, all the little errands that never end—has she once complained she’s tired?” I lowered my head. I didn’t want to say anything more. “Right. I’m the most idle person in the world.” I turned and went into the bedroom. The door hadn’t even shut. Bianca followed me right in. She made herself at home, opening the closet, pulling out several of Luca’s custom suits. She came by every week to take his clothes to the dry cleaner. But this time, her eyes settled on the corner of the closet. Where, folded and stacked, from the years before he made it— were the cheap couples’ hoodies Luca and I had picked out together at a Brooklyn thrift shop. Neither of us had had the heart to throw them out. Bianca gave them a glance, then called loudly toward the door: “Don, there’s some old junk in here. Mind if I toss it?” I opened my mouth to speak. From outside came Luca’s careless voice: “Do what you want with it.” The sound died in my throat. I looked at those childish, almost ridiculous matching hoodies in her hand. Maybe back then had been the happiest we’d ever been. I didn’t stop her. Fine. Throw them out. Bianca gathered the clothes up, then her gaze slid back to me. “Ava, what are you keeping all this junk for, anyway?” “Luca stopped loving you a long time ago. You haven’t noticed?” Her smile was open, brazen. Nothing at all like the face she wore in front of Luca. “I know. You really wanted that Spark, didn’t you? But he just refused to buy it for you. I only mentioned it once, and he got it for me right away.” “Are you mad?” I looked at her, and suddenly I laughed. She got a little flustered, staring at me, baffled. “What are you laughing at?” “Bianca, sometimes I honestly find you quite entertaining.” “All your little schemes are so obvious, and so clumsy. Don’t you think?”
Bianca’s little tricks were painfully obvious. It was just that they no longer bothered me. She took a few sharp steps toward me, fire simmering behind her eyes. Then in the next instant, she suddenly toppled backward and hit the floor hard. Loud enough to bring people running. She burst into tears, eyes red: “I quit!” “Just because Don bought me a car, Ava called me shameless, said I’ve got a filthy mind, said I’m trying to sleep my way up through him!” “How could I ever do that?” She was sobbing loudly. Luca came striding in. “What’s going on?” Bianca sat on the floor, biting her lip, as if she’d suffered the greatest injustice in the world. “I know she can’t stand the sight of me, but I’m just doing my job for you.” “If I’d known she’d get this upset, I wouldn’t have come today.” Luca pulled her to her feet, expression pained, brow knitted tight. “If someone hurts you, you say so. No one’s asking you to bear it in silence.” He was speaking like reason itself. But in this moment, no matter how you heard it, it sounded like a love letter. Just not one addressed to me. Bianca lowered her head, voice hoarse: “It’s just because she’s the future Donna. Otherwise I’d have already talked back to her.” Luca sighed helplessly: “So what if she’s the future Donna? You can talk back to her all the same.” He looked at me. His eyes were cold. “Apologize to Bianca.” I raised an eyebrow. My meaning was clear. Bianca, playing the good sport, spoke up: “I don’t need her apology. How about she washes my car instead?” Luca agreed without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course.” I stood up. “Luca, that’s enough.” His voice dropped: “Enough with the scene, all right? Do it for me. Let this one go.” “I’ll wash it with you.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door, unyielding. There it sat—that black Spark I’d wanted so badly. He picked up the hose and shoved it into my hand. Bianca stood off to the side, giving orders. “Here. And there. Everything needs to be spotless.” I didn’t move. Then Bianca suddenly snatched the hose out of my hand. As if she’d lost her grip on it—she aimed it straight at me. The pressurized water hit my face dead on. She burst out laughing, as though it were all a great game. “Ava, forget the car—let’s have a water fight!” The jet kept slamming into my face. My skin burned, raw. It felt like the blood was going to push right up through it. My eyes stung fiercely from the water. I blinked helplessly, again and again. But Luca just stood there smiling at Bianca. He didn’t see anything wrong with it. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I strode forward and wrenched the hose out of her hand. I was about to turn it on her. Luca stepped in front of her instantly. In the space of a breath, he was soaked. He and I stood there, locked eye to eye. After a long moment, he said: “Are you satisfied now?” “I always knew you were this vindictive.” The hose slipped from my hand. I don’t know what a wreck I must have looked. Hair, clothes—all drenched. My eyes were so blurred I couldn’t see. But none of that, hurt as much as him calling me vindictive. Once, he’d told me I was the softest-hearted person in the world. He never wanted me to suffer any slight from anyone else. So he was always teaching me: don’t swallow things, don’t let them eat you up inside. And now. The one hurting me, over and over, was him. I just stood there, silent, watching him. Only then did he seem to notice the state I was in. But all he did was frown. “Why didn’t you get out of the way?” My face was blotched with welts from the water. I wiped a hand across my cheek, taking the tears with the water. I didn’t want him to see them. “The pressure was that strong—I thought it was going to blind me. How was I supposed to dodge?” He looked at my eyes. They were bloodshot. Something tender flickered in his expression. He started to come toward me. But Bianca caught his arm. “I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to try and smooth things over with Ava. I had no idea the pressure was that high.” Luca paused a moment. “All right. Let’s just let it go. It’s over.” “You’re more mature than Bianca. You should be the bigger person.” One breezy sentence. Leaving me nothing to do but slink away like this.
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