The Mafia's Reluctant Bride
She yanked down her dress, picked up her phone, and turned to him, her voice shaking.
“Fuck you, Sandro.”
“Cute,” he muttered as she stormed out.
~~~NEXT DAY~~~
Marianna stepped out of the mansion, dressed in her usual oversized trousers and hoodie. Her eyes met Marco’s as he stood by the car, flanked by two stoic guards.
She frowned. “What the hell is this?”
Before Marco could answer, Brittany came rushing toward her, nearly tripping over her heels.
“Ma’am—”
“Just call me Anna,” she cut in, brushing a hand through her loose hair.