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She's Just a Woman
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2025-08-03 08:00:14CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE
The silence didn’t scare me that afternoon.Not like it usually did.For the first time, it felt… quiet. In a way that made my chest flutter. I stayed curled in the robe he wrapped me in, my hair still damp from the bath, the sheets faintly smelling of him. The room still carried the weight of him, the scent of his cologne, the quiet echo of his voice when he told me to rest.I laid there, bare beneath the softness, and for a moment…I giggled.The sound startled me. It was too light, too real.But I didn’t stop it.I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket with me, and pressed my face into the pillow. His pillow. Still warm. Still holding the shape of where he slept. My stomach did a little flip, the same stupid fluttering I used to laugh at other girls for. And yet here I was, burying my smile into the linen like a lovesick fool.Dante had washed my hair.He didn’t ev
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DANTE’S PERSPECTIVE LUCCHESE ESTATE – AFTER THE PRIVATE GATHERING She’s fucking draped over him. And I can’t stop watching. Can’t fucking breathe. Crimson red. That goddamn veil. That body. That silence. Every click of her heel on marble sounded like a gunshot in my skull. She moved like she was sculpted to command. Measured, slow, deliberate, every step screaming ownership. And the bastard she chose to sit on, Nico fucking Mareni, had his hands on her like he earned the right to breathe her in. His lips brushed her neck. I should’ve snapped his fucking jaw right there. But I didn’t. I stood there. Watching. Burning. The world narrowed to her silhouette and that fucking name, La Rosa Nera. A name that used to mean fire, fear, death. A title no man dared speak too loud. Now it belongs to a woman. Her. And the chaos she carries
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent He's Obsessed with the Other Me
CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE AS - LA ROSA NERA His knuckles were white. I noticed it the moment his hand curled into a fist on the table, tight, trembling at the edge. No one else probably saw it. But I did. Every time Nico’s fingers drew idle, thoughtless circles across the fabric of my dress, my waist, my stomach, Dante’s gaze narrowed. His jaw clenched. His nostrils flared like a bull just before the kill. And I knew. La Rosa Nera isn’t just a name to him anymore. She’s becoming an obsession. He doesn’t realize it yet. But I do. Because I’ve seen that look in his eyes before, when he stands over bloodied men asking for names, when he owns the room without ever raising his voice. When something dares to exist beyond his control. He craves power. Always has. And now, it’s wearing heels, silk gloves, and crimson. It’s sitting on a
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DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE "Spit it out, Nico."My voice cut through the room like a blade, flat and cold."You think this is a fucking joke?"They all watched him, every suit around this table, every snake in polished shoes puffing cigars like the smoke would hide their fear. Carlos Moretti leaned back like he was above the rest of us. Bullshit. Even he had sweat behind his ears.And Mareni?He sat there like a smug little bastard, fingers laced over his gut, chin lifted like we weren’t even in the same food chain."I said I don’t talk about her," he said.He fucking smirked.A gun clicked beside him.He didn’t blink.“Who is she?” I asked again, quieter this time. Deadlier. “Who’s La Rosa Nera?”Nico just looked at me. No fear. No twitch. Nothing but that calm, fuck-you confidence he wears like a second skin."Even if I told you, you wouldn't understand," he said.
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent A Private Gathering
DANTE'S PERSPECTIVEPRIVATE MAFIA GATHERINGLucchese Underground Hall, MidnightThey showed up like vultures. All of them. Dons from old bloodlines, cocky bastards from new syndicates, even the washed-up leeches who should’ve died five years ago. Everyone wanted to talk about her.La Rosa Nera.I lit a cigarette as the room filled. Sat at the head, polished leather shoes crossed at the ankle, watching every arrogant piece of shit file in like they owned something. This was still my city. My table. My goddamn war.Carlos Moretti sat with that stiff spine like he ran something outside his wife’s purse strings. Nico Mareni came in last, smirking like a bastard with a loaded secret. His silence pissed me off before the meeting even started.“I’ll get straight to the point,” I said, voice flat. “We’ve all had interference.”Whispers. Shifting eyes. No one wanted to admit it. But I could smell the fear. And that made me grin.
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DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE LUCCHESE MAIN HEADQUARTERS I slammed the door so hard the glass cracked behind me.“Bring them in,” I snapped.Within the hour, the entire room was packed, my men, all of them, shoulder to shoulder. Phones ringing, papers scattered. Eyes everywhere, voices barking orders, calling in every favor, every rat and informant that’s ever owed me blood.“Nico’s been visited twice,” Malcolm reported, slamming a folder down. “We tracked both nights. Same figure. Same route. But no clear image. She’s too careful.”I tore the photo from his hand. A blur. A shape cloaked in black, face hidden under a wide hat. Even the fucking cameras couldn’t catch her. No skin. No features. Nothing.“You’re telling me this is all we have?” I hissed, throwing it across the table.Malcolm didn’t flinch. “Yes, boss. She left no trace.”“She’s real. She walks into Nico’s house like she owns it. And we don’t have shit?
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent The Hunt for La Rosa Nera, Begins
DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE NICO'S MANSION I didn’t knock.Didn’t wait for permission.I walked straight into Nico Mareni’s lair expecting to find it the same sewer I’d left it. Sweat-stained velvet, bodies sprawled like corpses waiting for orders, the stink of whiskey, cigar smoke, cheap sex, and rotting money. The stench of desperation that clung to the walls like mildew.But it was gone.All of it.The air was clean. The carpets weren’t soaked in sin. The silence wasn’t eerie, it was disciplined. The guards out front looked like men with purpose, not addicts with guns and half a reason to breathe.And him?He was behind a desk.An actual desk.Filing something like he gave a damn. Not a naked girl in sight. Not even a goddamn drink in his hand. Just Nico, clean, organized, untouched.I stared at him.“This your new front?” I muttered, stepping in like I still owned the floor.
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