Taming The Máfia Boss

I was lying on the grass, reading with Alessia and Enrico. The sun and the scent of the garden flowers were far better than the cold walls of the library. My parents didn’t approve of me being out here with my siblings. At nineteen, I was already a woman and shouldn’t be wasting my time with teenagers. In fact, they said the same to Alessia, even though she was only sixteen.In the mafia, you become a woman at eighteen, and I was expected to act like one, especially as the daughter of the Capo di tutti capi, the boss of all bosses. My father was above everyone in the Famiglia, and his family was supposed to set an example.That’s how Lorenzo ended up dead at the hands of our own father, to serve as an example.“When does the action start?” Enrico, who was only eight, complained as I narrated the story from the book.“You know it’s a romance; there’s hardly any action here,” I murmured, looking at him and ruffling his brown hair.Hurried footsteps crossed the gravel path before we coul

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the dress my father had insisted on choosing for me. In all my twenty years, I had never worn anything like it. I was almost certain that my childhood clothes were more modest than this dress.“Angela looks like a prostitute,” Alessia muttered, still leaning against the wall.My mother sighed, looking at me with disapproval, but she had contributed to this circus, overdoing my makeup in a sensual and provocative way. My eyes were painted with dark shadow, and my lips were marked with bold lipstick, drawing more attention than I ever had.“Your sister is a Mancini; she’d never be mistaken for a prostitute,” my mother said, giving me one last look.I highly doubted that, dressed like this, I wouldn’t be mistaken for a prostitute. After all, my father had made me wear this tight, low-cut dress to show Filippo what he’d gain from the marriage.I was disgusted by it all, disgusted with myself for letting myself be handed over like this, so complia

Angela looked at me, terrified, her hands outstretched in front of her, trying to keep some distance between our bodies, even though just a second ago, she had been nestled against me, so relaxed after being saved that I could feel every curve of her body.It wasn’t hard to find the woman in white collapsed on the floor, being trampled by everyone around her. One minute before we stormed in, she was their salvation from war or total ruin. Angela was there to marry for the *Famiglia*, and they showed how much that meant to them: nothing!Even that bastard of a groom couldn’t protect her. Filippo pushed her to the ground before running for his life, and I saw it all clearly.“What do you want? What are you going to do with me?” she asked frantically, her voice almost breathless as she glanced at my brother Nero and Frank in the seat beside me. “I’m sure my father will pay any price to have me back unharmed. Please, don’t hurt me!”Her sweet, brown eyes turned back to me, and I wanted to

When my father told me I was to marry Filippo so we could become allies and win the war against the Russians, I didn’t argue. It was the first time he had ever spoken to me about mafia business. Women weren’t supposed to know about such things. We couldn’t learn to fight or go to college. Our role was simply to marry, to be a devoted and obedient wife, submissive to all our husband’s desires.That’s what we were taught from a young age. That was how they ensured we wouldn’t get involved in the Famiglia’s business, that we would behave as perfect, submissive wives, raising more obedient women.But ever since I met Marco Falcone, something urged me to ask the questions that had been in my head all these years. For the first time, I didn’t feel forced to keep my thoughts to myself.He challenged me, even with his gaze, and his words wouldn’t leave my mind: *You could be the She-Devil of the Camorra by my side.* Those words carried so much weight. I knew exactly what “by his side” meant—I

I stood there in the bathroom, confused about why Marco had left so quickly, practically fleeing from me. One moment, the man seemed incapable of leaving me alone—I even thought he might stay while I showered. But the next minute, he ran out as if I were his worst enemy. What had gotten into him to leave like that?My questions took a backseat when I turned and saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair, once perfectly styled, was now a mess, strewn in every direction. My dress was dirty and torn, my makeup completely ruined.“How could he want to kiss me looking like this?” I muttered to myself in the mirror while pulling out the remaining hairpins.I looked awful. How could a man like Marco be interested in me? He could only be interested in getting to my father or Filippo. That became clear during our conversation in the office. Marco knew he couldn’t simply take my father’s place by marrying me, and he also knew the alliance proposed to the ‘Ndrangheta wouldn’t work for him after ki