The Mafia Princess's Forbidden Desire

My home was beautiful, but it never felt like mine. The red door, polished floors, and staircase looked perfect, but I often felt like they were part of someone else's story. A chandelier hung above the entry, catching the light in a way that made the shadows feel alive. I used to joke that if the walls could talk, they'd scream.

The sound of the TV in the kitchen brought me back to reality. I wasn't paying attention until the word murder caught my ear. My chest tightened as I twisted the ring on my finger-a nervous habit I couldn't break.

This house, my life, all of it was built on secrets and lies. For years, I told myself I wasn't involved. That I wasn't part of the damage. But that changed months ago. Now, the guilt haunted me, and the weight of my choices followed me everywhere.

Voices echoed from the front hallway, laughter mingling with the clink of glasses. Guests had arrived for lunch, and I stayed in the kitchen, not ready to face them.

"Why the long face, darling?" My mother's voice broke through the noise as she entered, her heels clicking on the tiles. Her smile was bright, but it didn't reach her eyes.

I shook my head. "No reason."

She stirred the pot on the stove, the rich scent of sauce filling the room. "You're too young to look so worried all the time. I know you're sad because of how your Father grounded you but he's only doing that because he loves you but right now he isn't happy with you," she said suddenly, her tone sharper.

"What did I do now?"

She sighed, turning to face me. "You didn't greet Salvatore this morning after church or at the party last week like he was expecting you to ."

I tensed at the name. "I didn't want to meet him," I admitted. "He's not someone I want to know."

"You don't even know him," she said, her voice rising. "He's your sister's fiancé, Milene. Show some respect."

I bit my lip, holding back the retort I wanted to make. Respect? For someone like him? Salvatore Russo wasn't the type of man who deserved respect.

Since his father's death, Salvatore had built a reputation as a ruthless leader in the underworld. People feared him, and for good reason. Stories of his vengeance weren't just rumors-they were warnings.

"Why is Adriana marrying him?" I asked, unable to hide my frustration.

"It's what's best for the family," my mother said simply.

"For the family," I repeated bitterly. I knew what that meant. This wasn't about love or even Adriana's happiness. It was about alliances, power, and business.

"Go check if your sister is ready," she ordered, brushing past me.

"She said she wasn't coming to lunch," I replied.

"She is coming," my mother snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I sighed and left the kitchen, heading upstairs. The chatter from the foyer followed me, growing louder as I passed by. My brother, Matteo, stood near the stairs, his arms crossed as he glared at Salvatore. There was tension in the air, thick and impossible to ignore.

"Milene," my father's voice called out sharply. "Come here."

I froze for a moment before turning to face him. My father stood near the grand staircase, Salvatore by his side. Both men looked at me expectantly.

"This is Salvatore Russo," my father said. "Salvatore, meet my eldest daughter, Milene."

I forced myself to step closer, my heart pounding. Salvatore's gaze was steady, his dark eyes cold and calculating as they met mine. He didn't smile, but there was a faint smirk in his expression, as if he already knew what I was thinking.

"It's nice to meet you," I said, keeping my voice neutral.

"We've met," Salvatore said smoothly.

My father's brows furrowed. "When?"

"At the party last night," Salvatore answered, his tone light but firm. "She made quite an impression."

Heat rose to my cheeks as my father turned to me, his expression unreadable. I wanted to argue, to explain that I hadn't even spoken to Salvatore, but the words stuck in my throat.

Salvatore's smirk widened just slightly, like he was enjoying the moment. "She's... memorable," he added, his tone carrying a hint of mockery.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. "Yes, we met briefly," I lied.

My father gave me a look that said this conversation wasn't over. Salvatore, on the other hand, seemed amused, like he'd just won some unspoken battle.

I didn't know what game he was playing, but I already hated being a part of it.

I really tried to forget the meeting because he was getting under my skin and I never let anyone rile me up.

Adriana was watching a sad movie and simultaneously folding a shirt and placing it inside a bag . She was wearing a big cartoon t-shirt and Christmas socks, with pieces of toilet paper scattered all over her room.

A few years ago, during her wild years she had cut her hair very short, which upset Mom a lot. Because of that, she lost her credit card, her acting lessons, and had to deal with angry stares for weeks. Now her hair was a smooth bob. I had learned that cutting hair was a big deal in our family.

Her room was painted pink with blue edges, but it looked messy, like a costume shop had exploded. Posters of plays were pinned to the walls, and strange props like feathers and hats covered her makeup table. A huge rabbit head was even lying on her bed. Dad probably didn't know he was paying for all her theater stuff. As long as she followed the rules, he didn't pay much attention to her. They just didn't understand each other.

I sighed, took a blouse from her suitcase, and hung it in the closet. She walked by, holding a pair of jeans. "What's with all the toilet paper?" I asked.

She sniffled but didn't answer. I felt worried-Adriana rarely cried. The last time was at our grandfather's funeral when she was thirteen. I picked up the jeans. "Where are you going?"

"Cuba, Saudi Arabia, or maybe North Korea. Pick one," she replied, handing me a bikini.

"None of those sound fun, especially with that swimsuit." I folded it and put it away.

"Have you met him?" she asked about her future husband. I paused. "Yes. He's nice."

She glanced at her small suitcase, her face falling. "Where will all my props go?"

"I think they have to stay here." She frowned, tears forming. "But I love my costumes! What about Mr. Rabbit?" She held up the giant rabbit's head.

"I don't think North Korea will let you take him," I joked.

She flopped on the bed, groaning. "What about Cuba?"

"Maybe that's better." She nodded, wiping her tears. "I have an Alice in Wonderland play coming up."

"Who are you playing?"

"The Cheshire Cat." She smiled, and it was good to see her happy again.

"That fits you." I found a simple black dress in her closet and put it on her bed. "Get ready. Everyone's here."

"Ryan broke up with me," she said flatly. I softened. "I'm sorry, Adriana."

"He doesn't understand why I'm getting married. If he won't see me, he must not love me, right?"

I paused, unsure if I should comfort her or just move on. "Okay," she said, nodding. "I'll be down soon."

I went downstairs, turned a corner near the library, and bumped into someone solid and warm. I looked up, already knowing who it was-Russo.

My heart skipped, and the hallway felt too quiet.

I took a step back, instinctively keeping some distance. He stood in a gray suit with a black tie, looking powerful in the narrow hall. He held a cell phone, probably on a private call. Large plants and dim lighting made the space feel even more secluded.

"Are you going to just stand there and stare, or will you move?" he asked.

I blinked. "What if I just stand here and stare at you?" The words slipped out before I could stop myself, and I instantly regretted it.

He ran a thumb across his jaw, taking a step closer. I stepped back. He looked amused, like I had entertained him. "I thought the Sweet Abelli was sweet."

How did he know that nickname? For some reason, I felt free from it around him, like he didn't see me that way.

"Well, I thought a gentleman would apologize after bumping into a lady."

"Sounds like you're assuming," he said smoothly.

"It wasn't an assumption," I replied, heart racing.

He stepped closer, and I took another step back. He glanced at my pink heels, studying me. "You think you've got proof, huh?"

"My mom said you were a perfect gentleman at church."

"I was a perfect gentleman."

"So, it's just a matter of choice?" He didn't answer, but his look made it clear.

"And I guess you don't want to be one now?"

I regretted my words as soon as they left my lips. He looked at me intensely. "Alright, well... I'll see you later." I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed my wrist, his grip hot and rough.

"Make a list of your sister's interests, sizes, and anything else helpful. Got it?"

"Yes," I breathed, feeling small and out of place. I couldn't leave unless he let go.

He looked at me closely, and my heart raced. "I'll give you the list at the engagement party," I said, trying to pull my wrist free.

He didn't release me right away, his thumb brushing my knuckles. "I thought the Abellis could afford more than a fifty-cent ring." He nodded at the cheap ring on my finger.

"Sometimes the cheapest things mean the most." Our eyes met, and he let his hand slide down to my fingers. "See you at lunch, Milene," he said, walking off. I leaned against the wall, feeling the weight of the ring. I could take it off, but I didn't want to-not yet.

The hot July afternoon had a nice breeze, and lights hung around the patio where my family gathered. My mom's rose bushes looked beautiful, the chairs were comfy, and the food was good, but I felt out of place among so many strangers.

Across the table, Gianna talked freely. "The cop didn't even take my coke," she said, laughing.

"Gianna," Salvatore warned from across the table. She rolled her eyes and sipped her wine. I wondered what their relationship was, but I knew they didn't get along. Gianna's older husband sat silently, occasionally chuckling.

Gianna was my opposite-bold, loud, and carefree. She ate her pasta without twisting it and didn't care what anyone thought. I felt a bit envious.

Tony sat next to her, looking bored but actually amused and annoyed. He was good-looking but had a wild side that made him dangerous. He caught my eye and winked.

The yard buzzed with chatter and clinking silverware, but tension hung in the air. Gianna quickly changed the subject to horse racing, and everyone joined in. We pretended to be a perfect family, guarded by iron gates and security.

I was relieved Adriana stayed instead of going to Cuba. She sat with her fiancé and my dad. I felt a bit cowardly for being glad I didn't have to sit near Salvatore. I was a polite hostess, but around him, words felt difficult. I was nervous, like I was blushing all the time.

Even though he was hard to talk to, I couldn't help glancing his way. He looked good in a way that fit Adriana's style-tan skin, almost black hair, and strong arms. He looked even better in the sunlight.

But what I noticed most was a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt, stretching from his shoulder down to his wrist, where he wore a gold watch.

Salvatore Russo had a tattoo on his arm, but it felt like he was hiding his real self. He looked at me from across the table, making me feel uneasy. The way he said my name stayed in my head, making me want to avoid him.

Uncle Thomas asked about my dance practice, breaking the silence. I felt guilty thinking about the past, but I forced a smile and told everyone it was on Saturday. Gianna, nearby, seemed surprised when she found out I did tap dancing. I said I wasn't very good, but my mom mumbled that she disagreed.

The mood stayed tense, even though people were talking and eating. Gianna poked at her broccoli, her husband laughed at nothing, my brother spun his wine glass, and Adriana kept eating, ignoring the man next to her. My dad talked about buying an old shooting range, which changed the topic, but I still wished the lunch would end.

Then things got worse. The men decided to talk about going to a race. The guy next to me, Stefan, made a weird sound. Tony, my brother, noticed and didn't like it. "I didn't get the joke, Russo," Tony said.

Stefan shrugged. "I just don't want to watch you guys lose."

I held my breath, knowing Tony wouldn't ignore that. Benito tried to calm him down, but Tony only grinned at Stefan.

Suddenly, Stefan pulled me up as a plate flew past, and everyone jumped up. His hand was wrapped around my throat. My dad started yelling orders, and I felt a shiver, remembering his temper. Salvatore's calm voice cut through the noise, making me feel a little better. " Stefan , release Milene"he told him but he refused. As he kept squeezing my throat, Salvatore quickly pulled at his gun and put a bullet in his head. Finally, the argument stopped, and everyone sat down, but the tension was still there. I leaned back, rolling a cigarette between my fingers, trying to calm down.

I looked at my cousin Sergio, who was hiding a smile. I gave him a look because I'd just lost a bet to him, thanks to this fight. My family loves to bet on everything. Now I owed him $5,000, and I blamed it on the girl who caused the trouble.

Some family members annoy you, but you still love them. My dad always disciplined me when I acted without thinking. My mom used to smoke at the kitchen table after fighting with my dad. Now, with sore ribs and a cigarette in hand, I realized I was just like them. People who knew Leonardo Russo thought that was unlucky. I was raised by my dad and the family business, with my mom filling in where my dad failed. She tried to teach me respect for women, but it didn't stick.

Milene's mom gave me a disapproving look. I just wanted a simple thank-you for stopping the fight that could have ruined our Sunday. My grandmother used to say the Russo family has a hot temper. She said that's why her sons were spoiled, greedy, and protective. A Russo goes after what he wants, and once he claims it, he believes it's his-even if he has to bend the rules. Maybe she was right, because I felt that heat now.

The soft music of "I'll Wait for You" by Ari Bella played in the background, adding to the quiet, awkward mood. I rolled my cigarette, trying to calm myself down. Ricardo got up to send the servants away, all of them connected to the family. I only heard part of the argument that started this, but it seemed like Tony was bragging about beating Piero, another foolish cousin. To me, Piero deserved his loss. Play dumb games, win dumb prizes.

I really thought Stefan would put the gun down, but I didn't care. I felt angry because my cousin disrespected me and threatened Sweet Milene. It felt strange the way I'm overprotective of her and my first thought was to protect her. So I shot him and blood splashed on Milene's white dress.

Tony has wanted me dead ever since I killed his friend Joe Zanetti with my .45 years ago. I knew Tony and I would have issues, but I didn't expect him to be stupid enough to bring it up at lunch. I guessed the idea that I'd be sleeping with his sister was bothering him more than my usual presence.

I tapped my cigarette against the table and looked at Sweet Milene. My eyes narrowed. If it weren't for her, I would only owe Luca $5000. Blood could be seen on her skin, but she continued to eat her dessert since her father told her to. I don't normally get off on things like this, but there was something about it-it was actually quite hot. Then I saw my cousin Lorenzo a few seats down. He was looking at her, almost unable to take his eyes away. And not because he was following orders-he always messed them up-but because he was truly obsessed.

The man had a taste for danger, something you wouldn't expect based on his appearance. Knowing this, and watching him stare at Milene irritated me a bit. She probably liked things gentle and slow. Perhaps even liked the guy to beg a little. Lorenzo would do it. I would rather throw my hand into a car door. She gave me a frown in church today, and I couldn't help but wonder what she had against me. I had heard her nickname before I met her. Guys called her "Sweet Milene"-a nickname that referred to her figure because of how she looked. I'd heard way too much about her figure over the last few years, and it was getting old.

Overhyped items usually disappoint. I was wrong. She really is as beautiful as the rumors say.When my idiotic cousins talked about her, I would always tune them out. I'd never seen her, but they'd talk about her as if she were the only thing on earth. It drove me crazy. Her name had become like an itch that I couldn't scratch. So when her father told me she wasn't marriage material, I didn't question why. I had just signed a deal for someone else. Then I saw her in church. Damn that.

My cousins would look at any woman under fifty who had even one attractive feature, so I assumed they were lying about her. But they didn't. She was the type of woman a man fantasize about.

Her body is Out of a magazine. That hair-jet-black, smooth, and long enough to wrap around my hand-was a weakness of mine, and the thought came to me right then in church. Made me feel guilty for a tiny moment. But it was her sweet, innocent look that drew me in, heating my skin and leading to emotions I hadn't felt in a long time. She looked so nice, I could see why she was given that nickname. However, this could not have been based on her personality. Not a chance. I stood in the back of the church, staring at her for much too long. She smiled at each man who approached her, as if she were royalty. I'm six feet three-not exactly hard to miss, yet she didn't notice me until around half an hour later. Then she gave me the most piercing look I had ever seen. Everyone said "Sweet Milene," but she was nice to everyone but me. It made me want to laugh if it hadn't gotten under my skin. Since I became Boss, no one has dared to look at me like that. I hardly knew her, but for some reason, I wanted Milene Abelli to know I didn't like her much either.

No girl who had guys gushing over her could be anything but spoilt and phony. Her pink expensive heels told me that she enjoyed spending her father's money. Her sister wore flip-flops; I'd probably save millions by marrying her instead. Adriana was weird, but still attractive. She looked amazing alone, but next to Milene, she disappeared into the background. That suited me perfectly. I did not desire the woman that my cousins couldn't stop thinking about. I didn't really care who I married anyway. It was simply time, and in my view, marriage meant business. Ricardo has some problems with a Mexican gang. He was losing his edge as he got older, and I would help him settle it after the wedding. I'd help him settle it the way I'd been taught: one bullet at a time. This partnership would increase my wealth and allow me to control the majority of the city. A shiver rushed down my spine as I felt Milene's stare on me from across the table. Her attention was warm but annoying like a weight on my face. I wanted to ignore it, but then I looked back. She looked away first. Following her gaze at church, I looked into why she was "unfit" for marriage. Sweet Milene had run off with a guy and lost her so-called purity. But I knew that wasn't why Ricardo hadn't offered her to me. He simply didn't want me to have her. And, honestly, I got it. If I were him, I wouldn't give her to me either. So he offered Adriana instead.

Adriana sat opposite me, calm in a black dress, her brown hair flowing over her face as she drew on her hand with a pen. I had barely noticed her since her arrival. I figured it was time to actually speak with my future wife. "What are you drawing?" She stopped, then extended her hand. "A rabbit." It wasn't a question; it was clear. "Mr. Rabbit," she corrected with a sharp tone. Normally, that would have annoyed me, but I put it aside and started planning what I would do to her brother. "Right or left?" I asked.