He Didn't Know I Was the Mafia Princess

The phone rang for a long time before it was picked up.

"I'm busy. Don't bother me unless it's important," Santino's impatient voice came through the receiver.

I froze for a second, staring at my phone.

Was this the "elegant gentleman" the Don had talked about?

I swallowed my temper.

"Santino, your assistant is acting like a rabid dog, kicking people out at the door. Is this the Moretti family's way of treating guests?"

"Even though we haven't officially met, as your fiancée, I think you'd better come out and explain..."

Beep—beep—

He hung up.

If it weren't out of respect for my father, I would've shoved this phone right down his throat.

What century are we in? Who still does arranged marriages?

But before I came, my father threatened me with the family's honor, forcing me to show up.

I originally planned to cancel the engagement to his face if it wasn't a good match.

I didn't expect this bastard wouldn't even give me the chance to meet him.

Seeing this, Bella laughed hysterically.

"Oh, so you're the legendary 'fiancée' straight out of Sicily?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk! Talk about delusions of grandeur. Why don't you take a look in the mirror? Are you even worthy of Mr. Santino?"

I was so angry I actually laughed. I pulled out a chair beside me, sat down, and casually picked up a delicate piece of tiramisu.

"Then tell me, how exactly am I not worthy?"

I said, slowly taking a bite of the cake.

Bella acted as if she'd just seen the best joke in the world, clapping her hands in exaggeration.

"Oh my god, she actually sneaked in to freeload. Manager, aren't you going to kick this beggar out?"

The manager, sweating bullets over this diva, shot me an apologetic look.

"Miss, the Imperial Suite is exclusively for Platinum Card members, I'm sorry."

"Is that so? Then I guess this Centurion Black Card isn't worthy either?"

I slapped the black card onto the table. The manager gasped in shock.

Bella's face instantly turned ugly the moment she saw the black card, but then she thought of something and sneered, "Did your sugar daddy give you that card, or did you steal it? Trying to show off your wealth without even being able to prove where the card came from? Kick her out."

Not daring to offend the Moretti family, the manager said timidly:

"Miss, I apologize, but the Imperial Suite is booked for a private event today. It's not open to the public. I'm truly sorry, but I have to ask you to leave."

"Look around you. Who sitting here today isn't a heavy hitter in the underworld? Aren't you ashamed to be sitting here?"

Bella said, deliberately raising her voice.

The argument sparked whispers among the crowd. People gossiped in hushed tones, "Everyone knows Bella is Santino's little mistress. I think that girl is in for some serious trouble this time."

Bella seemed proud of her status as the mistress, giving me a provocative glare.

"Livia, for the sake of us being former classmates, I advise you to get the hell out of here right now."

"Don't stick around just because of some ridiculous engagement. Mr. Santino doesn't give a damn about you."

"Otherwise, when the muscle comes in, they won't be as gentle as I am."

"Here, take this cash as a tip. Go buy yourself a bus ticket back to the sticks."

With that, Bella flicked her wrist, scattering dollar bills all over the floor.

She flipped the plate holding the desserts, sending it crashing right at my feet, splattering my shoes.

She was dismissing me like a stray beggar.

I slowly crouched down.

The men and women around us, clad in tailored suits, all cast disdainful glances my way.

The corners of Bella's mouth curled up; she was reveling in her triumph.

But the very next second, her smile froze.

Under everyone's shocked gazes, I picked up the plate holding the remaining half of the cake and smashed it ruthlessly right into Bella's face.