Mrs. Costa
1250 Words
Dante POV
The meeting was dragging.
Dante leaned back in the leather conference chair, pretending to listen as one of the board members droned on about quarterly projections. His mind was already elsewhere — flipping through emails, mentally organizing the rest of his day.
His phone buzzed quietly under the table.
A text from Isabella.
Isabella: Don’t forget we have dinner with my father tonight. He’s eager to talk about expanding your offices.
Dante grimaced and slipped the phone back into his jacket.
Across the room, his assistant, Fabio, caught his eye and gave a discreet nod — their signal that it was time to wrap things up.
Dante stood and offered a few clipped words of thanks before striding out, loosening his tie with a sharp tug.
"Remind me why I agreed to a second meeting today?" he muttered.
"You didn’t," his assistant said dryly, keeping pace beside him. "Your brother strong-armed you into it."
Speak of the devil—
Dario sauntered up, coffee in hand, looking far too smug for this early in the day.
"You’ll thank me," Dario said. "It's a nonprofit pitch. Might be good for PR."
Dante grunted. "I don’t give a s**t about PR."
"You will when we start buying that tech company next quarter," Dario said easily. "Good image matters, big guy."
Together, they crossed the lobby into the neighboring high-rise — one of Alessandro’s many real estate investments — and rode the elevator up to the conference floor.
“There you are, just in time,” Alessandro smirked as he caught up with them, walking to the conference room together.
The presentation was already beginning when they slipped into seats at the back. Dante barely spared the speaker a glance, letting his eyes wander toward the windows instead.
He should’ve skipped this. He had a hundred better things to do. Maybe Isabella was right — maybe he was neglecting family obligations lately. Maybe he should—
"Good morning," she began, her voice clear and professional. "My name is Gia Costa, and I’m the founder and director of New Horizons, a nonprofit dedicated to helping single mothers and women escaping abusive relationships. We provide transitional housing, job training, and childcare resources to help women rebuild their lives with dignity and hope."
Dante’s head snapped to the stage. There she was.
Gia.
It was the first time he’d seen her in person in five years. God, she was still beautiful.
Her sleek black hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail. She was wearing a blue silk blouse, one that complimented the color of her eyes. She looked confident, proud, but there was something different about her, something he couldn’t place.
He’d never paid as much attention during a meeting as he had now. He’d been hanging on every word.
“You okay?” Alessandro whispered, elbowing him softly.
“Did you know?” Dante asked, without taking his eyes off of her.
“No, Sophia and Gia haven’t really been speaking much lately,” Alessandro answered. That caught Dante’s attention. Why was that? They used to be best friends.
When the presentation ended, it was time for the Q&A.
Hands went up across the room, and Gia fielded a few politely. Dante barely heard the first few questions. His mind was still spinning. She was here. She was real.
Before he could think better of it, Dante’s hand shot up.
Gia’s eyes scanned the crowd—and when they landed on him, for just one heartbeat, time stopped.
Her breath hitched—he saw it—but then, like a mask sliding into place, she gave a small, professional smile.
"Yes, sir?" she called on him, her voice steady.
Dante stood. He had no idea what he was going to say. The only thing he knew was that he needed to hear her speak to him. Needed her to see him.
"Where do you see yourself in five years?" he asked, his voice low but clear. It made no sense, but his mind was blank.
It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask if she still thought about him. He wanted to ask if she was happy.
But he kept it business, because what choice did he have?
Gia didn’t falter. She smiled again, a little tighter this time.
"Hopefully still helping women reclaim their lives," Her gaze flickered over him once more, then away like he was nothing more than another face in the crowd.
Dante gripped the back of the chair in front of him, his knuckles whitening.
When the Q&A ended, Gia gathered her things with smooth efficiency, giving no sign that she even recognized him beyond professional courtesy.
Her bodyguard, Dante, realized grimly — stayed glued to her side.
She moved toward the doors. Fast. Too fast.
Dante cursed under his breath and pushed through the crowd, catching up just as she was about to disappear.
"Gia," he said, reaching out instinctively. The bodyguard immediately stepped between them.
Gia turned back, her smile cold and brittle. "Mr. Mancini," she said sweetly. "Is there something I can help you with?"
She said it like they were strangers. Like she hadn’t once been his whole world.
Dante swallowed the lump in his throat. "No," he said hoarsely. "No problem."
“I prefer if you called me Mrs. Costa,” Gia inclined her head slightly, then turned and walked away, heels clicking against the polished floors.
And this time — just like five years ago — he stood there and let her go.
“Come on, man,” Dario clapped a hand on Dante’s shoulder, dragging him out of the building.
“You need a drink before you do something stupid,” Alessandro muttered.
Dante let them steer him down the street into a nearby restaurant, the world moving around him in a blur.
The second they slid into a booth, Dario ordered whiskey for the table without asking. Dante sat there in silence, staring at nothing.
"You gonna say something?" Dario asked, raising a brow.
Dante slowly exhaled. "How long has she been back?"
Alessandro leaned back, watching him. "Gia never left."
Dante stiffened. "What?"
"She stayed," Alessandro said. "Got married. To Leonardo Costa. You know—Don Costa’s son."
The blood drained from Dante’s face. He’d never asked—never bothered to find out after he got married. Sure, he could have hired an investigator, but where would that have gotten him? It would only cause more hurt.
"She has a kid," Alessandro added. "A boy.”
Dante didn't answer. His fists clenched under the table.
Dario leaned in. "Listen. I get it. I do. She was your girl. You never got over her."
He took a sip of his drink. "But she's married now. She has a life. You chasing after her now? That's not you, Dante."
Alessandro nodded grimly. "It would dishonor her. And you."
Dante stared down at the table. The words were like knives—but he knew they were right.
Still, something primal twisted inside him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her face. Her voice. The way she hadn’t looked at him today, like he was nothing.
"You need to forget about her," Dario said roughly. "Focus on what you have. You’re a married man. You have responsibilities."
Dante let out a bitter laugh under his breath.
Responsibilities.
A wife he didn’t love.
A family built on guilt and mistakes.
Forget her? He could sooner cut out his own heart.
- Writer
