My Mafia Boyfriend Left Me Outside

My boyfriend was a mafia heir.

One word from him could open those gates.

But I stood outside in the rain while he celebrated another woman's birthday.

My calls went unanswered.

Inside, four plates circled the cake.

None was mine.

Upstairs, she'd taken my room too.

“You don't mind helping her out,” he told me.

He hadn't asked.

That night, I reopened the job offer I'd turned down to stay with him.

This time, I hit Reply.

——————

The guard wouldn't open the gate.

I tried my key card again. The reader flashed red, and rain ran down my wrist into my sleeve.

"Your access isn't active, miss."

"Elena Rossi. Call Matteo."

He glanced toward the house. Through the dining room windows, I could see Matteo leaning over a birthday cake. Bianca sat beside him, laughing as Luca steadied the candles. Adrian held up his phone.

My boyfriend was right there. So were the two men I'd grown up with.

None of them looked toward the gate.

"I'll need confirmation," the guard said.

I called Matteo. His phone lay on the table beside Bianca's elbow. I watched it light up.

She pushed a plate toward him. He picked up a fork.

The call rang out.

By the fourth attempt, water had soaked through my coat. I stepped under the narrow shelter over the pedestrian entrance. It barely covered my head.

The guard shifted inside his booth.

"Sorry. I'm new."

"I know."

He wasn't the person I needed to explain this to.

Luca came out carrying his car keys just as I started another call. He stopped on the steps.

"Elena? What are you doing out here?"

"Waiting to get in."

He looked at the guard, then at my coat.

"She's with Matteo. Open it."

The lock clicked.

Inside, Matteo rose from the table. His eyes dropped to the puddle forming beneath my shoes.

"Jesus. Why didn't you come through the side entrance?"

"My card doesn't work."

"Bianca lost hers. We reset the access this afternoon."

"Nobody told me."

He turned to Luca. "Tell the new guy he can use his head. Elena doesn't need to stand outside waiting for permission."

Luca nodded and went back out.

Matteo took my coat from my shoulders, as though that settled it.

"Why didn't you call?"

I held up my phone.

He checked his. His mouth tightened.

"We had the music on."

Bianca put down her fork.

"Oh, Elena. I thought you were still at the docks. We would've waited."

Four plates sat around the cake. Four coffee cups. Adrian moved his chair slightly, making room for me to stand beside the table.

"Happy birthday," I said.

"Have some." Bianca offered her plate. "I haven't eaten much."

"You barely had dinner," Adrian told her. "Keep it. There's probably something in the kitchen."

Matteo rubbed my cold fingers between his hands.

"Go change first. You'll make yourself sick."

I went upstairs to the room where I'd kept spare clothes for years.

Bianca's slippers stood beside the bed. A pink suitcase lay open on the chair. My sweater, the one I'd left folded on the dresser, was gone.

I checked the wardrobe. Her dresses filled it.

Bianca appeared in the doorway.

"Matteo said I could use this room. I keep waking up at night, and the guest wing feels so far away."

"Where are my clothes?"

"Downstairs. I put them away carefully."

"You moved them without asking me?"

She glanced behind her. Matteo had followed us upstairs.

"It's just a room, Elena," he said. "She sleeps better here."

"It was my room when I stayed over."

"You usually come home with me."

He said it gently, as if I hadn't understood the practical arrangement.

Bianca touched his arm. "I can move back. I don't want this to be a thing."

"Don't start unpacking again." He looked at me. "You don't mind helping her out."

I waited for the question at the end of that sentence.

There wasn't one.

Luca came up with a towel. "Found your stuff. It's in the storage room by the laundry."

"I'll get it."

"Let me."

But Bianca asked him to help find her missing earring, and he turned toward her before I'd reached the stairs.

I found my clothes in a plastic bin beside unopened detergent. Someone had folded my jeans around a pair of shoes. I shook out my sweater and changed in the downstairs bathroom.

When I came back, they were taking another picture.

Bianca tucked herself against Matteo's side. Luca bent behind her chair. Adrian raised the phone.

"Elena, come here," Bianca called.

"Go ahead."

I was still rubbing my hair dry.

Adrian took the picture. Nobody asked again.

I sat in the kitchen with a glass of water and opened the email I'd declined three weeks earlier. A shipping company in Seattle. A position I'd wanted before Matteo asked why I'd move across the country when everyone I loved was here.

I'd agreed with him then.

I tapped Reply.

I checked the attachment again. The office address, the salary, the name of the person who had interviewed me. Nothing about the offer had changed. I had been the one to say no. I checked my available savings.

From the dining room, Matteo called, "Do you want coffee?"

"No, thanks."

"We might go out after this."

I looked toward the doorway. He was speaking to Bianca now, asking whether she wanted her coat.

I set my glass down. The email still had my old reply beneath it: Thank you, but I have decided to stay in New York.

If the position is still available, I'd like to reconsider.

I read it once and sent it before I could soften the wording.

A new photo appeared in our group chat. The four of them, smiling over the cake.

I closed the chat and left the email open.