Lahat ng Kabanata ng Half a Lifetime Later—My Mafia Princess is Finally Mine: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─Age 14 | Liguria, SummerI should’ve worn the Dior sandals.Not because the leather on my Ferragamos pinched, though they did, but because the grass in Liguria had a strange way of swallowing heels whole, no matter how delicately I walked. And I was walking delicately like a young lady just like my mamma told me to.But my patience was already fraying like the hem of my linen skirt. The one I’d insisted on having tailored in Milan just for this trip, only to realize, after stepping foot on the Lombardi estate, that absolutely no one here understood what real fashion looked like. Except maybe Signora Lombardi, who had a flair for red lipstick and drama. Still, she wasn’t exactly competition. She had to be at least forty.Salvatore walked ahead of us, his back straight, like it always got when we visited fellow crime families. He was twenty-four and already thought he ruled the world. He certainly ruled our house back in Chicago, Mamma let him. Papà tolerated it. I fou

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─I was still soaked.The white bikini clung to me, and the chill of the air-conditioning hadn’t done a thing to stop the heat boiling under my skin.I paced the length of the guest room. Each slap of my wet heel against the marble was a reminder that I had been pushed..That I had fallen. That I had been laughed at like some brainless, half-naked American girl on display.That smug, entitled, infuriating bastard. He thought he could humiliate me in front of his friends, and I’d what? Just take it? No, I slapped him and he smiled. I wanted to rip his teeth out for it. I should’ve drowned him instead. A knock hit the door once then it opened before I could speak.I froze.In walked Elisabetta Lombardi, spine straight, pearls on her throat, eyes cold and right behind her still shirtless, still smirking was him.Rino.He had the audacity to wink at me the moment our eyes met.“Alessia,” Elisabetta said smoothly, “I brought Rino to apologize for his inappropriate behavior.

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, golden and blinding, hitting the marble floors. The Lombardi estate looked like something out of a magazine, arched ceilings, carved columns, art that probably cost more than a small country. If you didn’t know any better, you’d call it beautiful. But all I felt was dread. Because across from me, Rino Lombardi was slouched in his chair, playing with his breakfast like a child. His white shirt hung open at the collar, sleeves rolled carelessly to his forearms, cufflinks nowhere in sight. His dark hair was still damp, slicked back lazily like he’d just stepped out of the shower and said “fuck it” when he was about to comb them. He looked infuriatingly relaxed, thighs spread wide, posture like he was bored of everything around him. He struck me as the kind of guy who’d roll out of bed at noon, run a hand through his hair once, and spend ten full minutes smirking at his own reflection, just to remind himself how go

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding so loud I couldn’t hear anything else. I blinked at him, eyes wide, breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, with my body, with the heat crawling up my neck like I’d been branded. I had never been kissed before, not by love and definitely not like that. He cocked his head slightly, like he was admiring a painting that didn’t impress him much. “You really thought you could talk shit and walk away?” he murmured. His eyes flicked down to my lips, my swollen, bitten lips and then right back up to my eyes, smug as hell. “Now you’re tainted by the inbred clown prince of Liguria. Wonder what that says about you.” Tears stung my eyes before I even knew they were there. Hot, sudden, blinding. I turned on instinct, didn’t look back, didn’t breathe, just ran. Their laughter still echoed behind me, but it sounded far away like it was underwater. I ran through the sand, past the fire pit, the mu

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ I was curled against Papà’s side, face buried in the fine linen of his shirt, staining it with silent tears. His cologne should’ve comforted me, but it only made the lump in my throat grow worse. He let me cling and didn’t say a word, just kept his palm moving in slow circles on my back like I was still his little girl and not the girl some boy had thrown in the sand and kissed without permission in front of an entire crowd. And yes, I told him. I told them both. Every awful, humiliating detail. How Rino grabbed me. How he touched me. How he made me feel like nothing. I told them because some stupid part of me thought they’d care enough to stop it. To call off the engagement. To protect me. Papà just chuckled and called it “puppy arrogance.” Said it was “typical Lombardi showboating.” Across the room, Mama sat perched at her vanity. Her breathing was faintly wheezy from the climb up the stairs, but she didn't stop giving me the judgmental glances through the mir