Lahat ng Kabanata ng 365 day to fall in love with Mr. Mafia Boss: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 15

365 Days to Fall in Love with Mr. Mafia Boss We left for Genoa at midnight. No convoy. No guards. Just Alessandro driving and me in the passenger seat, a knife strapped to my thigh under the black dress Daria had given me. “Practical,” she’d said. “You’ll thank me.” Alessandro hadn’t spoken for an hour. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The cut on his cheek had reopened. “You’re angry,” I said. “I’m terrified,” he said without looking at me. “There’s a difference.” The port was a maze of containers and floodlights. 2:17 AM. Our target was warehouse 44. Russo’s gun shipment, arriving on a freighter called Mare Nero. Alessandro’s men were already there—six of them, silent in the shadows. He got out, came around, and opened my door. “Rule twenty-five,” he said. “You stay behind me. Always.” “No.” His eyes flashed. “Isabella—” “You said we fight together. That was the deal. No more cages. No more ‘mine’ if it means I’m just a doll you carry.” I stepped o

365 Days to Fall in Love with Mr. Mafia Boss The families came at noon. Not to Lake Como. To the warehouse. Alessandro’s choice. “No more hiding behind marble,” he’d said that morning, loading a fresh mag into his Glock. “If they’re going to kneel, they kneel where the blood is.” The floor had been cleaned. But if you knew where to look, you could still see the stains. Russo’s men. Our men. Genoa. I wore black. Not a dress. A suit. Tailored. Knife at my thigh. Alessandro’s signet ring on my right hand. On my left, nothing. That finger was still mine. “Rule twenty-seven,” Alessandro murmured, adjusting his cufflinks. The cut on his cheekbone was finally healing. “You don’t speak first. Let them underestimate you. Then correct them.” “Rule twenty-eight?” I asked. He looked at me. Gray eyes, no ice. Just fire. “There is no twenty-eight. We make the rest up together.” Daria opened the doors. They filed in. Seven dons. The heads of every family from Milan to Naples. Vit

365 Days to Fall in Love with Mr. Mafia Boss The lake doesn’t freeze anymore. Not since Alessandro had the boathouse torn down. Concrete, chair, screens—all of it gone. He said the water remembered too much blood. Now there’s a garden there. Wild roses. No thorns. Our daughter calls it Nonna’s Garden. She never met Vittoria, but Daria tells her stories. The edited ones. Where the queen was fierce, not cruel. Where the empire was built on loyalty, not bodies. Her name is Vittoria. After the woman who taught me queens don’t get to be afraid. Alessandro hates it. “She would have eaten our daughter for breakfast,” he says. “She would have respected her,” I say. He can’t argue with that. Morning Vittoria is five. She has his eyes and my smile and absolutely no fear of either of us. “Papa,” she says at breakfast, swinging her legs under the table. No more formal dining room. We eat in the kitchen now. “Why do you have that?” She’s pointing to Alessandro’s hands. The sc