Semua Bab Half a Lifetime Later—My Mafia Princess is Finally Mine: Bab 111 - Bab 120

Rino ─𖤝─ Alessia hadn’t contacted me in two months. Two. Fucking. Months. Every day stacked on the last one until my patience was down to bone and instinct was screaming for blood. I’d been this close to lighting the fuse. Remo had been pacing, itching, waiting for the nod. He’d behaved like a good soldier. I told him to hold the line, told him not yet, told him we wait. And somehow, he listened. I had tried Vincenzo once in the past two months. And it was a big mistake. He stayed calm, voice smooth as he told me it was Alessia’s choice. That I needed to respect it. That I needed to wait until she decided what she wanted. Then... then the smug bastard did it. He threw my own words back at me. He said it was my idea to give her a choice. He said I’d wanted her to feel safe. He said that this was me getting exactly what I asked for. I remembered gripping the phone so hard my knuckles went white. I remembered the heat climbing up my spine, settling behind my eyes. I simply

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ I didn’t explain myself to Vincenzo. I didn’t explain myself to anyone. Not after the last fight, not after the way they all looked at me like I owed them answers. I didn’t. I was done justifying where I went, who I saw, or how much air I needed to breathe. The guards got their instructions in short sentences, no details, no questions. Vincenzo didn't ask either, he was still trying to prove to me that he wasn't trying to control me. So, he never asks me where I’m going, never asks my guards where I had been. The car waited downstairs, and I slid into the back seat wrapped in emerald silk dress that skimmed my body like it had been poured on. The dress was backless, clinging to my waist, and my hips. I caught my reflection in the dark window and barely recognized myself. I dress like this all the time for dinners, for charity events, I dress up for church, even. I don’t dull myself down for anyone, never have. So no one questioned it. It was just another nigh

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ The tea in my cup was stone cold, but I kept stirring it anyway, the silver spoon clinking against the porcelain. My skin still felt tight every time I moved, the silk of my blouse brushed against the spots where Rino’s teeth had sunk in. “Do you think… I don’t know, Claire,” I started, “Do you think a man like him expects things? Scary things? Things I just… I can’t do.” Claire leaned back in her chair, popping a grape into her mouth. She was looking at me with that knowing look again. “He’s just so... passionate,” I struggled with the word, my face heating up. “It’s like he’s always at a ten. It’s too much. I don’t think I’m like that. I wasn't even this… intense back when I was with Antonio.” Claire’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. She set the bowl of fruit down and leaned over the table, her eyes sparkling. “Okay, back up,” she said, grinning, “When you say ‘passionate,’ are we talking about romance, or are we talking about, like… dirty, low-down, grimy s

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ I chose to cook alone. Not because I had to but because I needed to. Claire had hovered in the doorway more times than I could count, sleeves already rolled, ready to jump in. Madeleine had offered too, quietly, carefully, like she was afraid of stepping on a landmine. She’d been struggling lately. Finding her place, in our family, feeling the weight of our name press down on her in ways no one prepared her for. The house carried that tension now. So I hadn’t told anyone about my decision. I planned to keep it that way until Claire cornered me earlier, hands on her hips, eyes sharp. Either you tell them, or I will. So here I was. I was standing in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, hair pinned back. Garlic hit hot oil. Tomatoes broke down under my spoon. Pasta water salted just right. I cooked the way I always did, perfectly. I exhaled slowly. Then I felt a presence. I glanced to my left. Salvatore stood there, staring at nothing like it had personally offen

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ I climbed into the passenger seat, the leather feeling cold against my leggings before quickly warming to my body heat. He closed the door behind me with a soft thud, and for a second, I felt utterly sealed away from the world. He walked around the front. He slipped into the driver's seat, the engine coming to a powerful hum beneath us. He didn't look at me right away. His eyes were focused on the road, on the way away from the estate. From the corner of my eye, I sensed him, felt him before I actually looked his way. My gaze drifted to his hand resting on the steering wheel. Large. Strong. Inked in dark tattoos that curled up his wrist and vanished beneath the sleeve of his turtleneck. And the veins, God, the veins. This was the same hand that had been inside me, now wrapped around the wheel with effortless confidence. His thick, dark hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, yet still looked effortlessly rugged. His beard was trimmed so precisely, i