The Don and His Mafia Princess

I release a sigh of relief, closing my eyes as I bask in the gentle warmth of the morning sun. I love the sun. My serene moment is abruptly shattered as my irritating brother shoves me aside in his haste to descend the stairs of our private jet. "You couldn’t wait, could you, asshole?" I retort, my tone dripping with exasperation. "Wait for you to continue pretending we've arrived at our vacation destination?" he counters, rolling his eyes. Ladies and gentlemen, meet my brother, Santiago. Standing at a towering six feet with a well-built physique that drives countless girls wild, he's the epitome of an annoyance. We both inherited our dad's dark brown hair and ocean-blue eyes, though thankfully not his impatient attitude. "That's not what I was doing. I was just trying to enjoy Sicily's morning sun before we head to the meeting. I don't see anything wrong with that," I explain, shrugging my shoulders before descending the stairs. "I don't care, just get in the car. The Costanzos are already waiting," Santiago retorts impatiently. "Really?" I glance at my watch and see it's only 9:30. "I thought the meeting starts at 11:00 a.m.," I remark, sliding into the backseat of the Mercedes parked on the airport runway. "Yes, but it's been moved to tomorrow," Santiago explains, joining me after loosening his thousand-dollar Armin suit. My white blouse and nude pencil skirt were designer, but they couldn't compare in price to his. "I don't understand," I say, furrowing my brow as the car purrs to life. "Uncle Enzo has asked us to rest today and have the meeting tomorrow," Santiago explains. "Then why are they waiting for us?" I question, puzzled. If the meeting wasn't happening today anymore, we should be heading to our hotel. "We are going to the Costanzo estate to drop you off," Santiago reveals. "To drop me off?" I repeat, taken aback. "Yes, Dad has asked for you to stay there while we are on this business trip," he confirms. "Are you serious?" I ask, shocked by the sudden change in plans. Santiago nods, his gaze fixed on me. "Don’t give me that f*****g look," I huff, tearing my eyes away from his penetrating gaze. The thoughts swirling in his head are all too familiar, and it's infuriating me to no end. "You know it’s for your own good," he insists, his hand reaching out for my arm, but I swiftly pull it out of his reach, my frustration boiling over. "Please just shut up. I am not ready to hear that bullshit right now," I snap, my voice sharp as I turn away from him, my gaze fixed firmly on the streets of Sicily unfolding outside the window. The narrow cobblestone streets wind through the ancient city, lined with colorful buildings adorned with balconies overflowing with vibrant flowers. But despite the picturesque scene, my mind is consumed by turmoil, and I find myself unwilling to meet his eyes, my emotions too raw to engage in conversation. It's been years since that fateful day, yet they still treat me as if it happened yesterday. I shouldn't be surprised, really. When Dad warned me not to f**k up things for Santiago while he was in Sicily, I should have realized he wasn't merely cautioning me to let bygones be bygones. If only they understood that all I wanted was to erase the memories of the past. I had been ecstatic when Dad finally relented and allowed me to come here, thinking it was a sign of moving forward. But now, it seems I was mistaken. He may have granted me permission to come, but the scars of the past still linger, haunting every step I take. "Let me guess, he only let me go because my therapist spoke to him about exposure therapy and how it might be good for me," I voice out the bitter realization into the silent confines of the car, the weight of the truth settling heavily upon me. I pivot to face Santiago, seeking confirmation in his solemn nod. "Wow! And here I thought he actually believed I was fine enough to come," I continue, my voice betraying the hurt and disappointment simmering beneath the surface. Tears brim in my eyes, threatening to spill over as I turn away from Santiago, unable to bear the weight of his silent acknowledgment. My gaze drifts involuntarily to the scar on my wrist, a stark reminder of past trauma that I desperately try to push from my mind. I wrench my eyes away, refusing to dwell on the painful memories that lurk just beneath the surface, focusing instead on anything else to distract myself from the haunting specter of the past. We drive into the Costanzo estate, and a rush of memories floods my mind, transporting me back to the first time I set foot on these grounds. It's hard to believe that it's been five years since that day, and yet, so much has changed in my life since then. The car glides through the gates, leading us to the imposing facade of the magnificent home that holds both memories of joy and pain. The front lawn is a vision of beauty, adorned with a sea of vibrant red roses, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions churning within me. The driver parks the car in the expansive driveway, and I step out, greeted by the familiar sight of Mrs. Costanzo standing on the grand doorstep of the Sicilian mansion. Her face lights up with a warm smile as she lays her eyes on us, her genuine joy at our arrival evident in every line of her expression. The doorstep, crafted from weathered stone, exudes an air of timeless elegance, adorned with intricate carvings depicting ancient motifs. A series of steps lead up to the imposing double doors, their polished wood gleaming in the sunlight. Flanking the entrance are towering columns reminiscent of ancient Roman architecture, their marble surfaces etched with delicate patterns that speak of centuries past. Potted plants and ornate urns filled with cascading flowers frame the doorway, adding bursts of color to the stately facade. Above, a wrought iron balcony extends from the upper level, its intricate railings casting delicate shadows on the sun-kissed stone below. As I approach, the scent of jasmine and citrus fills the air, mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves from nearby trees. "It's so good to see you both, it has been ages," Mrs. Costanzo Katherine exclaims, her warm smile lighting up her face as she pulls us into a tight hug. "It's good to see you too, Aunt Kat," I respond, feeling a surge of affection for the woman who has always been like family to us. Despite not being related by blood, our bond runs deep, and her presence brings a sense of comfort and familiarity that is unmatched. "We have missed you too, Aunt Kat," Santiago adds warmly, reciprocating her embrace as she pats his back affectionately. Aunt Kat leads us into the house, I can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the entryway. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting intricate patterns of light onto the polished marble floor below. The air is imbued with an aura of elegance and refinement, befitting of the Costanzo estate. Aunt Kat leads me to my room, we ascend one of the grand stairways, the polished black handrail cool to the touch as I run my fingers along its smooth surface. Entering my room, I'm immediately struck by its elegance. The walls are adorned with intricate floral wallpaper, adding a touch of warmth to the space. Sunlight streams in through the large windows, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. A plush four-poster bed takes center stage, its rich mahogany frame draped with sheer curtains that billow gently in the breeze. I rummage through my bag, searching for some casual clothes to change into when a knock at the door interrupts my task. "Come in," I call out, and the door bursts open, revealing Aurora standing there with an exuberant expression on her face. "Andrea!" she exclaims, rushing forward to envelop me in a tight hug. "Surprise!" I respond, returning her embrace with equal enthusiasm. "I can't believe you hid coming here from me," Aurora says, pulling away with a playful smile. With her blue eyes, brunette hair, and a figure that could make any man weak at the knees, she's a sight for sore eyes and a cherished friend whose presence never fails to brighten my day. "It took everything," I reply, my smiling. Despite living in different countries, Aurora and I have remained as tight as ever. We practically grew up in each other's homes, sharing secrets, dreams, and countless adventures. Aurora's family shares a similar background to mine; they, too, are involved in the mafia. This shared connection was one of the reasons our friendship blossomed so effortlessly. With Aurora, I never had to worry about hiding my family's secret because it was no secret to her. Our fathers, both deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, are long-time friends, although their busy lives often keep them apart. As a result, Aurora and I aren't as close as we once were, but our bond remains unbreakable. "Well played," Aurora remarks, nodding in approval, and I can't help but smirk in response. "Before I forget, Mama says I should inform you. We're having a brunch party this afternoon and wanted to know if you want to come. And if you do and don't have something to wear, I could get one for you," Aurora continues. "A brunch party?" I repeat, considering whether or not I should attend. "Yeah, Mama thinks Dad forgot to mention it to you guys as he discussed business," Aurora explains. "That’s fine, and I would love to join. Don’t worry about my dress; I have something to wear," I assure her, turning to my bag on the bed. Having learned from past experiences that the Costanzo family loves to throw parties, I made sure to pack a suitable party dress just in case. "Great, it's starting in an hour. Get ready and meet me downstairs when you're done," Aurora says with a smile. "Alright, see you later," I respond, already looking forward to the party. An Aurora leaves and I change a stunning outfit that exudes elegance and sophistication. My dress is a chic knee-length sheath dress in a soft pastel shade, adorned with delicate floral embroidery along the neckline and hem. The fitted silhouette flatters my figure, accentuating my curves in all the right places. To accessorize, I've opted for a pair of diamond heart earrings that sparkle in the sunlight, adding a touch of glamour to the ensemble. I've slipped into sleek black heels that elongate my legs and add a touch of sophistication to the look. Completing the outfit is a sleek clutch in a matching pastel hue, adding a polished finishing touch to my ensemble. As I descend the staircase, I realize that Aurora is nowhere to be seen. Following the sound of classical music and lively chatter, I make my way to the gardens, where the party seems to be in full swing. The scene before me is all too familiar, reminiscent of gatherings hosted by my own family. Elite individuals, dressed in the finest designer clothing, mingle beneath the shade of towering trees and colorful floral arrangements. But behind the facade of sophistication lies a shallow reality. Many of those present likely harbor ulterior motives; some may not even care for the Costanzo family and are simply here to gauge their success. The other half likely seek to leverage the family's business connections and societal status for their own gain. It's a scenario I know all too well. I scan the crowd in search of Aurora but come up empty-handed. Maybe something important came up. Determined not to let her absence dampen my spirits, I decide to grab a drink from the bar before continuing my search. As I reach the bar, I order a glass of champagne. Sipping on the sparkling drink, I navigate through the crowd, enjoying the gentle breeze rustling through the trees. Just as I'm about to attempt calling Aurora once more, hoping to finally get through to her, a sudden collision sends my drink splashing onto someone nearby. My heart skips a beat as I hastily pocket my phone and rush to apologize, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I am so sorry; I should have been looking where I was going," I apologize profusely, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I use my hands to help clean the spill on his shirt. It's a pristine white fabric, undoubtedly worth more than my entire outfit combined, and I can't help but feel a pang of guilt for ruining it. "You think! Would you stop touching me!" he exclaims, his voice sharp with irritation as he swiftly removes my hands from his body. I cringe inwardly, realizing that my attempt at cleaning the stain with my hands was only making matters worse. As I begin to rummage through my clutch in search of tissue, his voice sinks deep into my ears, freezing me in place. I can't believe it's him; a flood of conflicting emotions washes over me, unsure whether I should feel excited or apprehensive at his unexpected presence, considering our complicated history. Just this morning, Santiago had mentioned that he was in Spain, so his sudden appearance catches me off guard. My heart races as I contemplate the implications of his unexpected arrival, uncertain of what to expect in. I might be wrong so to confirm I hesitantly lift my eyes to meet the gaze of the man whose shirt I've just ruined, and as soon as I lock eyes with those captivating green orbs brimming with anger, a sinking feeling washes over me. I find myself silently praying for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks—he's not just angry because someone ruined his shirt; he's furious, and I dread to think of his reaction when he discovers that it's me, his sister's best friend, the spoiled brat he loathes with every fiber of his being. The tension between us hangs thick in the air, and I can practically feel the storm brewing in those piercing green eyes. "Andrea," he growls, his voice carrying a mixture of surprise and annoyance, though his expression betrays less shock than I anticipated upon discovering I was in town. With an effort, I muster a fake smile, hoping it might defuse some of his anger. He remains as strikingly handsome as the last time I laid eyes on him. His pitch-black hair is impeccably styled, exuding an aura of professionalism and undeniable allure. Even beneath his suit, his physique is evident, his muscles toned and rippled. He's every bit as handsome as I remembered. But then again, what did I expect? He's Stefano Costanzo, after all, one of the most irresistibly attractive men to grace this earth. "Stefano, I'm so sorry I ruined your suit. If you want, I can have it cleaned for you. I'm sure I can find a maid close by," I offer, still attempting to clean the stain, but he interrupts me sharply. "I said stop touching me, Andrea," he commands, and I immediately withdraw my hand. "Sorry," I murmur softly, barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting at your hotel?" he questions. "I'm staying here," I admit, bracing myself for his reaction. "You're what?" His shock is palpable, and it's clear he's not pleased. "I'm…" I begin, but he cuts me off with a resigned sigh. "I heard you the first time," he mutters, frustration evident in his voice. "Just my luck. The time I decide to move home because of renovation at my place, you come into town. Just perfect." With that, he walks away, leaving me with a mix of emotions. But amidst the disappointment, there's a spark of happiness knowing that he's staying in the estate. Suddenly, my work/vacation trip couldn't be more perfect.