When The Principessa Strikes Back

I was shopping on Fifth Avenue with my best friend this morning when I got a call from our family's tattoo artist.

He hinted that my cold, ruthless mafia husband, Lester Falcone, had added new ink next to the sigil representing the union of our two families.

That evening, I discovered the new mark—an iris—was the favorite flower of his new assistant, Bianca.

She was even wearing one pinned to her lapel.

I didn't lose my temper. Instead, I gave a knowing, predatory smile.

I had my consigliere draw up the separation agreement and asked my best friend, Chloe, to keep tabs on Lester's movements.

As a Principessa of the Moretti family, power is the one thing I've never lacked.

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1

At the Falcone family's charity gala, I clutched a flute of champagne, mingling with the heads of New York's major families.

As the classical music swelled, the dance floor filled with a swirling sea of glamorous, perfumed figures.

Only then did Lester make his entrance, fashionably late, with his assistant, Bianca.

I watched as he paused at the entrance to intimately adjust Bianca's necklace.

The corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile, his eyes holding a tenderness I hadn't seen in ages. He seemed pleased with the result.

Lester's eye for detail had always been sharp; after his adjustment, the necklace perfectly accentuated the delicate line of Bianca's collarbones.

It perfectly complemented her vintage velvet gown.

In that moment, my carefully constructed composure cracked.

This morning, I'd received a message that Lester had picked up a necklace from an antique jeweler our families often used. I had assumed it was a surprise for me.

I even had my stylist create a look to match that very necklace.

But the gala began, and he still hadn't given it to me.

I’d even called him, feigning a casual tone to ask if he had a surprise for me.

He'd brushed me off, claiming he was busy with family affairs, but I’d caught the sickeningly sweet voice of a woman on his end of the line.

"Don Falcone, will Rania be upset if she finds out?"

"Don't worry, she has enough jewelry to open a museum."

And just like that, I understood. This man was no longer just mine.

Bianca tilted her head, giving me an innocent smile, her dimples strikingly familiar.

"Hello, Rania. You look absolutely radiant tonight."

I met her compliment with an icy stare, my eyes raking over her from head to toe.

"That's a lovely necklace. It's the same style as an antique piece I had my eye on."

In our world, the unspoken was always the loudest.

A former waitress from one of the family's restaurants couldn't afford antique jewelry of this caliber.

Bianca squirmed under my gaze, biting her lip and twisting her hands as she shot nervous glances at Lester.

Lester met my eyes, his face as cold and impassive as ever.

"Rania, don't read too much into it. Bianca mentioned she's never been to a gala this grand and wanted a piece of jewelry to feel less out of place."

"It was a reward for her hard work."

I raised an eyebrow and nodded, giving a subtle signal to my assistant standing not far behind me.

The next second, the charity auction began. I raised my paddle five times in a row, winning five pieces of even more valuable jewelry.

Then, a smile playing on my lips, I turned to Lester, in full view of New York's socialites and family bosses.

I crossed my arms, leaning against a nearby Roman column, a playful smirk tugging at my lips.

"Time to pay up."

"All the Capos here brought their wives, women devoted to their families. You wouldn't play favorites and dote *only* on your assistant, would you, Lester?"

Bianca knew I was humiliating them. The color drained from her face, and her voice was tinged with a sob.

"Rania, please don't make things difficult for Don Falcone. It's all my fault. I'll return the necklace right now."

Just listen to her. Acting as if I'm the one being unreasonable.

"Bianca Romano, isn't it? You're overthinking things. A few pieces of jewelry are hardly 'making things difficult.'"

"Lester has had the best of everything since he was a boy. It’s understandable he might not grasp the significance of giving a woman jewelry."

"But as his assistant, you should have shown more discretion. Didn't you think of that?"

Bianca hung her head, apologizing profusely.

Lester's background, his status, his methods—all were impeccable. He was a figure feared throughout the underworld.

Countless women admired him.

And through all these years, he had always maintained a cold and distant demeanor.

Any woman who tried to get close was usually met with nothing but his bone-chilling gaze.

On countless nights, he had held me tightly, whispering hoarsely in my ear.

He'd said that I was his one and only Principessa, the only light in his dark world.

But now, everything had changed.

Now, I watched him defend another woman.

Lester shook his head, motioning for his men to handle the bill. Then he strode over to me, his hand gripping my waist possessively as he locked his gaze with mine.

Over the swell of the music, his deep voice murmured in my ear.

"It's just jewelry, Rania. I didn't realize you cared so much. I don't give a damn if she's scared, but I'd hate for you to be upset."

His tone was light, as if discussing something trivial, effortlessly steering the conversation away from Bianca.

A cool smile touched my lips. I twisted my fingers in his tie, pulling his rigid frame closer, inch by inch.

"Bianca has a crush on you. A man as sharp as you couldn't have missed it."

"I know you don't care about the money, but what happened today was the first time. I expect it to be the last."

The guests around us, thinking we were flirting, erupted in a chorus of whistles.

So close I could feel his breath on my skin, Lester's face tensed, a crack appearing in his composed expression.

He frowned.

"Rania, don't. What will the family think if they see us?"

"Bianca and I have a professional relationship. That's all it will ever be. Don't overthink it."

I snorted softly and released his tie.

Humiliating him would be easy, but it would do my own reputation no favors.

Getting into a catfight over a knockoff was simply beneath me.

The warning had been delivered. I would let them off the hook, for now.

After all, I had no concrete proof.

I took his arm, and we walked to the center of the dance floor. As hosts, we led the opening dance.

The other Capos' wives were sharp. They gleefully accepted the jewelry, making a point to flaunt it in front of Bianca.

"We have little Bianca to thank. If it weren't for you, we sisters might never have worn such precious jewels."

"In Lester's eyes, giving you jewelry is like giving candy to a child on the street. You wouldn't get any inappropriate ideas from that, would you?"

"Your eyes, those dimples… they look so much like… well. No wonder Lester is so taken with you."

One after another, their faces filled with scorn, their words laden with veiled warnings.

Bianca had probably never been so humiliated. Her head hung lower and lower.

Tears hit the marble floor.

She waited until the crowd dispersed before running out, her eyes red and swollen.

She didn't come back.