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Chapter 75: Girls Night
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2025-06-21 23:43:02
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His Docile Mafia Princess Chapter 132: A Kill order
”The don had access to several different assassins working for him and the top five are listed under a special file." Rocco explains, "If you press that fruit icon, then you get to see the assassins available on the requested date and you can match them with the order." "I see," I nod. "Pick up the phone and call back. I'll take it." "Alright." He nods, doing exactly as told, no questions asked. I veer towards Igor and shoot him a look he instantly understands. Rocco is the perfect service man, he doesn't ask, he does. I sit back, practically kicking my feet with anticipation of the fun day ahead for me. Igor smirks and I do too. Igor knows im Requiem, but Father's right hand doesn't. Maybe I should make Igor my right hand for the time being, it'll certainly be helpful. "It's done," Rocco tells me. "Oh, the notification came!" I squeal in excitement, staring at the computer screen again. "This is so exciting," I say, leaning forward as the screen loads. "I get to process a k
His Docile Mafia Princess Chapter 131: He listens to YOU
Alessandra Today is a good day. I've not seen my mother once, not her annoying daughter-in-law who thinks she's worth more than her actual daughters. And perhaps she is but I don't care anymore. They say pregnancy changes you and I don't know if it's too early to give credit to it but my patience is beginning to wear extremely thin. Things have only gotten worse since I killed that pedophile in the bathroom. Her death was broadcast two days later, Alessio did the dirty work without asking me anything or even speaking of it. Her friend, the other woman claimed to have found her dead and told the world she desired a closed casket funeral, which worked in my favour because her face was a mess. Since then, I've been itching to get out more, but it's so hard to leave the house when Luna is glued to me whenever im not in Father's office. I'm growing to like this room. It's so quiet and peaceful. That is, if you choose to ignore my brothers dropping in uninvited to taunt me and three
His Docile Mafia Princess Chapter 130: Just a little war
Enzo I think I’m losing my mind. I have everything I wanted out of life and yet I feel so hollow, like I didn't accomplish the most anyone has in a long time. I. The youngest to sit on this throne but without my wife, it means nothing. Maybe I should have married Sofia, but my need to have Sasha outruled that of an easier life. Had I married the other twin I'd not be itching for control this way, everything would be business as per usual but that's not the case, everything is different, she's different. I have seen her in a week, and I miss Alessandra with a hunger that claws at my chest. I don't even sleep anymore, I spend my nights drowning in her favourite wine and conjuring images of her when I'm lucid enough. It's not just her body that I miss, it's everything about her, everything I never observed in the average person. I would give anything to hear her laugh again, the memory isn't enough anymore. “Capo,” Don Corrado sighs. “We need to talk about this war you’ve started.”
His Docile Mafia Princess Chapter 129: Breaking Point
Alessandra After a night at Renata's house, and a scolding from Renata about being more careful now that I'm pregnant, I go back home. Renata was more concerned about the “what if” possibility of the other woman harming me and the baby. A sweet sentiment, one I appreciate but being pregnant doesn't limit me in any way, I'd crawl my way through every hell that I could even with my ribs bruised, hands and legs broken, I still would. It's who I am, what I was raised to be. Renata said she's eighteen weeks today and urged me to see a doctor soon so we can track our babies together. I didn't have the heart to tell her I might leave the country soon, I might go to Russia and hide away in Dedushka's home. I'm craving cherries the moment I enter the house, and I know Ma Constantia must have brought me some, along with a few other fruits so the kitchen is my first stop. “Sasha,” Sofia calls out, coming to stand in front of me. “Hey, Sof.” “Hey Sof?” she scoffs, “Are you being serio
His Docile Mafia Princess Chapter 128: She was pissing me off
The bathroom door slams open and I freeze when Gianna steps in. She doesn't scream, she observes. Her eyes dart from me, to the woman lying in a pool of her own blood then to my blade and right back up at me. Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have brought the blade with me and now look at the mess I've caused. Gia stares wide-eyed at me and I stare too. I don't even try to speak, I don't know what to say, what do people say to one when they run into their sister in law in the club bathroom with a dead body?! “Che cazzo hai fatto?” (What the fuck did you do?) she whispers, loud enough for me to hear her. “I—beh…” (I— well..) I swallow, “Lei era—umm non è quello che sembra.” (She was—umm it’s not what it looks like.) I tell her, and it really isn’t what it looks like. Gianna nods, “Sembra che tu abbia ucciso qualcuno.” (It looks like you killed someone.) she says, her chest heaving. “Sì.” (Yeah.) I nod. So it is what it looks like, and I try to find the right words, words to justify
His Docile Mafia Princess Chapter 127: A crime of jealousy
Alessandra “Come on, Sasha.” Sofia groans. “At least smile okay? I didn't bring you here to mope around.” I nod, flashing her a smile. Sofia invited me out with her friends tonight because like she's previously stated, I've just been moping around the house for days now. I wanted to decline and spend my night with Renata but I didn't want for them to get suspicious because I'm still trying to keep my pregnancy under wraps, at least until I sort everything out with this darn inheritance. Gianna hooks her arm in mine and clings to me as we enter the club, talking about how lovely my outfit looks. I'm glad she stopped asking me about Enzo a week ago; it makes things less awkward. Speaking of awkward, my eyes find the second I enter the club, almost as if summoned to see him. He has his arm sprawled over the leather sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Around him, his friends are laughing, talking, but he just appears detached. “Let's go sit over there,” I say, pointing to
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