Prologue

“Millie."

"Millicent."

"Mildred."

"Maleficent."

"Mildew."

"Mil-"

"What the hell do you want?" I finally snapped, turning to look at my cousin, Damian.

"I'm bored." The 29 year old, six foot, olive toned, Greek son of a bitch pouted his lips.

"So?" I turned back to the black dress I was currently admiring.

I think she's the one.

"So, let's just leave this store and go and get some ice cream." He leaned his side against the clothing rack, immediately earning a scowl from a passing store attendant.

You don't lean against Prada, bitch.

Despite being a Mafia man with a gun strapped to his waist, he immediately stood up straight. Of course, me being the mature woman I am, I didn't miss a beat.

A laugh caught in my throat and I smirked. "Pussy."

"Please remind me why the hell I'm here, ilíthia." (Stupid)

"Because I need a dress for my birthday party tonight and you don't have a choice?" I smirked, settling on the black dress.

You can never go wrong with a Prada dress, or an LBD - especially now that I'm 25 years old.

I'm now in my Boss Bitch Era.

"Go and pay for this, then we can leave." I gently shoved the dress into his arms.

"What? I'm not-"

"Go." I gave him the cold look I'd mastered by my mid-twenties.

There was just a teenie-weenie problem.

It didn't work on the men in the Greek Mafia.

So, in other words, all the freaking men in my life.

"Go and pay for it yourself, bitch." He shoved the dress back at me, with a lot more force than I used.

"Maláka." (Asshole) I muttered, dejectedly heading in the direction of the counter.

"Putána." (Bitch)

This time I silently flipped him off.

I didn't think it was a good look to hurl another insult at him from across the Prada outlet in Manhattan.

My heels clicked in the quiet store as I approached the desk. I put the dress on the counter, frowning when the sales woman continued folding some other clothes as if she didn't hear me coming.

"Excuse me." My thick Greek accent had her head snapping in my direction. "Can you pack this up?"

"Just one moment, please."

I rose an eyebrow at her, more out of surprise than anything. For once I was forced to wait for her to finish...and I liked it. It's refreshing after being treated like a celebrity all the time - something I didn't earn myself. It's a title I got from my family, not myself.

I put my hands on the counter, taking the time to analyse her.

She had flawless brown skin and her curly ringlets were tied up into a bun. She had a smooth complexion, long eyelashes and plump lips.

She was wearing a black dress, but I could recognise the expensive brand from a mile off. Her jewellery was also expensive, not to mention the diamond engagement ring on her finger.

The question was, why was a rich girl working the cash register at a Prada store? Especially when she could be a model or an influencer or something like that.

Choosing not to stare too much at my new girl crush, I started admiring my fresh manicure while I waited for her to finish wrapping the stupid men's shirt in tissue paper.

I went for my classic ballerina pink acrylic nails.

Last time I had black for a change, but that only encouraged certain bitches to call me Maleficent even more.

So now we're back to the perfect shade of nudey-pink for my birthday.

"Okay." Apparently I was worth her time now. I resisted the urge to smile when she finally took my dress, searching for the Prada price tag.

"That will be two thousand, one hundred and seventy dollars. You're paying by card?" She eyed the credit card in my hand with boredom before scanning the barcode on the dress.

"Yes."

She wordlessly slid the credit card machine over to me. I put the card in and entered my pin which was when the best part happened.

With a very judgmental expression, she actually waited for the payment to go through before she started wrapping it up.

I mean, was I dressed head to toe in designer clothes? Yes.

Was that enough evidence I could afford the dress? Absolutely.

Did she care? No.

This time I did smile.

It was such a normal thing for her to do but it was rare I ever received normal treatment like this.

I was used to store attendants fawning over me as soon as I walked into any store. Thanks to my family's reputation as an entrepreneurial family, we had somewhat of a celebrity status. They would have my chosen things packed up even before I made it to the cash register to pay.

But this girl was making me wait just like she would any other customer.

"What's your name?"

She frowned at my question, taking out a layer of Prada printed tissue paper to start wrapping up my dress.

"Zari."

"That's a nice name." I smiled, trying to be nice. "I'm Millie."

"Are you flirting with me, Millie?"

Almost instantly a laugh tumbled out of my lips and her plump lips twitched up in the corners. "What makes you think I'm flirting with you?"

"You were checking me out earlier." Her hazel eyes met mine and she smiled, folding the dress up in the tissue paper. She started applying small pieces of tape.

"I was just admiring. You're really pretty but don't worry, I'm not flirting with you." She smiled with a quiet thank you. She didn't say anything else, so I continued. "How come you're working in this store?"

"What do you mean?"

"Girl, you're rich." She had more bling on than I did and I was the Queen of Bling.

Okay, that's not true. My mama is the Queen of Bling. But I do enjoy a nice pair of diamond earrings every once in a while.

She laughed, grabbing a Prada branded bag from under the counter. "I'm rebelling. My fiancé doesn't want me to work so I got a job here just to irritate him."

I like this girl.

"Is it working?"

"Yep. He comes in at least twice a day to make sure I haven't been held at gun point or robbed." She laughed, putting my wrapped dress in the bag. She picked up the receipt, also putting it inside.

"Oh, so he's that kind of overprotective?" In other words, the hot as hell kind of protective.

I need a protective man. But one who can handle my brattyness.

I'm a little bratty.

"Yes." She laughed, sliding the bag across the counter towards me. "He insists I can use his card without needing to work. But it's always fun to play with him."

I picked up the bag, taking a step away from the counter when an idea came to me. I might not have an overprotective fiancé, but I do have an overprotective something.

A pair of overprotective somethings.

"Hey...you want to get come to a party later?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?" She smirked, leaning against the counter.

"Do you want it to be a date?" I laughed.

"Well, I'm happily engaged...but one date couldn't hurt his ego too much, right?"

"Not at all."

"Okay, give me your number." She reached under the counter for her phone. We quickly exchanged numbers before I made a move to leave.

"Oh, it's my birthday today so you have to bring me a present." I grinned and she laughed, nodding her head.

"My fiancé won't disappoint you." She winked and that was the moment I knew I was falling for her.

This girl was my dream bestie.

With one last wave, I left her to join my moody cousin at the door. "Why do you get to flirt with the hot ones and I can't?"

"Because my flirting is friendly flirting and your flirting gets us kicked out of places." I gave him a pointed look, lowering my sunglasses over my face.

Damian lowered his own sunglasses and took the Prada bag from my hand, like a true gentleman. He threw a protective arm around my shoulders.

"You love it when I get us kicked out of places, Mildred." He grinned as the doors to the store opened and we were rushed back to our car by our security team.

Seven hours later I was standing inside our club called 'Helios' in Manhattan.

I was fucking wasted.

It turns out that Zari is a party animal.

I could tell my overprotective brother, Julius, and my cousin, Damian, weren't happy with the way we were swallowing the shots like water.

But it was my birthday so the pair had no choice but to keep it to themselves.

It was Papa Darmos's orders.

I was getting drunk to celebrate my birthday but also to console myself for what I knew was coming tomorrow. Turning 25 years old only meant one thing to my father. He gave me today to enjoy, but tomorrow I had a lifelong mission to start preparing for.

Marriage.

I never argued against it. As the only daughter of the leader of the Greek Mafia, I knew my responsibility was to marry into another crime family when the time came.

I never let my emotions cloud my thinking, but for one night I let myself enjoy being...just a girl.

A girl with no expectations or life altering responsibilities. A girl who didn't have to keep up a sophisticated reputation in the underworld to be a desirable marriage prospect.

A girl who didn't have to know self defence and carry a weapon everywhere she went, despite her bodyguards lurking in the shadows.

I wanted to just be a girl celebrating her 25th birthday.

So I was.

Even though I had a few other friends and cousins at my birthday party, I spent most of my time with Zari.

We clicked instantly.

The role of 'Millie's Bestie For Life' was very much vacant and I liked to think of my party as her audition for the spot.

She definitely aced it. I will be giving her a call in the morning.

Or the afternoon. I don't think I'll be seeing the morning after the number of shots I've taken.

"You need to slow down." My brother, Julius, suddenly popped up out of nowhere like the Genie in Aladdin.

It was his navy shirt. It just gave blue Genie vibes.

"Remember when Will Smith smacked that guy at the Oscars?" I gaped at my brother who looked utterly confused by my random question.

"That was a long time ago, Millie."

"It's still crazy as fuck. Excuse me."

"Just drink this." He handed me a glass of ice water, blocking my path back to the dance floor with his body.

He knew me well enough to know I'd try to make a break for it and then end up dead, thanks to my heels.

"If I drink it, you do your b-best Will Smith impres-sion on someone tonight." I hiccuped, slurring my words together slightly.

"You want me to smack someone at your birthday party?" He rose an eyebrow, amusement clouding his features.

"Why not? It's not like they're going to smack you back. Apart from your girlfriend, of course. She smacked you hard already." I giggled, sipping on the water he gave me.

He wasn't appreciative that I reminded him of that particular incident. I could tell by the way he rubbed his cheek, wincing at the painful memory.

"You deserved it." I pointed out.

"I didn't do anything wrong." He muttered, shifting his gaze towards his red headed girlfriend dancing with Zari.

"You t-told her that her ass looked good in her j-jeans." I hiccuped, glaring at him accusingly.

"It did. What the hell is wrong with that? I thought girls like compliments."

"She hates those jeans!" I definitely shouted louder than necessary.

I shouted loud enough for party goers in the neighbouring club to hear me. Many people, including the bartender, turned to see what the sudden commotion was about.

"You really need to get some air." My brother shook his head, taking a step away from me as if I was embarrassing him.

I nodded in agreement, sipping on my water.