Costantino

Prologue

?? Also don't forget it's a MAFIA STORY!

?? Which means, there's going to be things you don't like.

These aren't normal people, they're criminals.

It's not all flowers and roses. The way they react to things is different than you would lol.

Too many people on here are complaining about little things like name calling or reactions in arguments.

"Millie."

"Millicent."

"Mildred."

"Maleficent."

"Mildew."

"Mil-"

"What the hell do you want?" I finally snapped, turning to look at my cousin, Damian.

"I'm bored." The 29 year old, six foot, olive toned, Greek son of a bitch pouted his lips.

"So?" I turned back to the black dress I was currently admiring.

I think she's the one.

"So, let's just leave this store and go and get some ice cream." He leaned his side against the clothing rack, immediately earning a scowl from a passing store attendant.

You don't lean against Prada, bitch.

Despite being a Mafia man with a gun strapped to his waist, he immediately stood up straight. Of course, me being the mature woman I am, I didn't miss a beat.

A laugh caught in my throat and I smirked. "Pussy."

"Please remind me why the hell I'm here, ilíthia." (Stupid)

"Because I need a dress for my birthday party tonight and you don't have a choice?" I smirked, settling on the black dress.

You can never go wrong with a Prada dress, or an LBD - especially now that I'm 25 years old.

I'm now in my Boss Bitch Era.

"Go and pay for this, then we can leave." I gently shoved the dress into his arms.

"What? I'm not-"

"Go." I gave him the cold look I'd mastered by my mid-twenties.

There was just a teenie-weenie problem.

It didn't work on the men in the Greek Mafia.

So, in other words, all the freaking men in my life.

"Go and pay for it yourself, bitch." He shoved the dress back at me, with a lot more force than I used.

"Maláka." (Asshole) I muttered, dejectedly heading in the direction of the counter.

"Putána." (Bitch)

This time I silently flipped him off.

I didn't think it was a good look to hurl another insult at him from across the Prada outlet in Manhattan.

My heels clicked in the quiet store as I approached the desk. I put the dress on the counter, frowning when the sales woman continued folding some other clothes as if she didn't hear me coming.

"Excuse me." My thick Greek accent had her head snapping in my direction. "Can you pack this up?"

"Just one moment, please."

I rose an eyebrow at her, more out of surprise than anything. For once I was forced to wait for her to finish...and I liked it. It's refreshing after being treated like a celebrity all the time - something I didn't earn myself. It's a title I got from my family, not myself.

I put my hands on the counter, taking the time to analyse her.

She had flawless brown skin and her curly ringlets were tied up into a bun. She had a smooth complexion, long eyelashes and plump lips.

She was wearing a black dress, but I could recognise the expensive brand from a mile off. Her jewellery was also expensive, not to mention the diamond engagement ring on her finger.

The question was, why was a rich girl working the cash register at a Prada store? Especially when she could be a model or an influencer or something like that.

Choosing not to stare too much at my new girl crush, I started admiring my fresh manicure while I waited for her to finish wrapping the stupid men's shirt in tissue paper.

I went for my classic ballerina pink acrylic nails.

Last time I had black for a change, but that only encouraged certain bitches to call me Maleficent even more.

So now we're back to the perfect shade of nudey-pink for my birthday.

"Okay." Apparently I was worth her time now. I resisted the urge to smile when she finally took my dress, searching for the Prada price tag.

"That will be two thousand, one hundred and seventy dollars. You're paying by card?" She eyed the credit card in my hand with boredom before scanning the barcode on the dress.

"Yes."

She wordlessly slid the credit card machine over to me. I put the card in and entered my pin which was when the best part happened.

With a very judgmental expression, she actually waited for the payment to go through before she started wrapping it up.

I mean, was I dressed head to toe in designer clothes? Yes.

Was that enough evidence I could afford the dress? Absolutely.

Did she care? No.

This time I did smile.

It was such a normal thing for her to do but it was rare I ever received normal treatment like this.

I was used to store attendants fawning over me as soon as I walked into any store. Thanks to my family's reputation as an entrepreneurial family, we had somewhat of a celebrity status. They would have my chosen things packed up even before I made it to the cash register to pay.

But this girl was making me wait just like she would any other customer.

"What's your name?"

She frowned at my question, taking out a layer of Prada printed tissue paper to start wrapping up my dress.

"Zari."

"That's a nice name." I smiled, trying to be nice. "I'm Millie."

"Are you flirting with me, Millie?"

Almost instantly a laugh tumbled out of my lips and her plump lips twitched up in the corners. "What makes you think I'm flirting with you?"

"You were checking me out earlier." Her hazel eyes met mine and she smiled, folding the dress up in the tissue paper. She started applying small pieces of tape.

"I was just admiring. You're really pretty but don't worry, I'm not flirting with you." She smiled with a quiet thank you. She didn't say anything else, so I continued. "How come you're working in this store?"

"What do you mean?"

"Girl, you're rich." She had more bling on than I did and I was the Queen of Bling.

Okay, that's not true. My mama is the Queen of Bling. But I do enjoy a nice pair of diamond earrings every once in a while.

She laughed, grabbing a Prada branded bag from under the counter. "I'm rebelling. My fiancé doesn't want me to work so I got a job here just to irritate him."

I like this girl.

"Is it working?"

"Yep. He comes in at least twice a day to make sure I haven't been held at gun point or robbed." She laughed, putting my wrapped dress in the bag. She picked up the receipt, also putting it inside.

"Oh, so he's that kind of overprotective?" In other words, the hot as hell kind of protective.

I need a protective man. But one who can handle my brattyness.

I'm a little bratty.

"Yes." She laughed, sliding the bag across the counter towards me. "He insists I can use his card without needing to work. But it's always fun to play with him."

I picked up the bag, taking a step away from the counter when an idea came to me. I might not have an overprotective fiancé, but I do have an overprotective something.

A pair of overprotective somethings.

"Hey...you want to get come to a party later?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?" She smirked, leaning against the counter.

"Do you want it to be a date?" I laughed.

"Well, I'm happily engaged...but one date couldn't hurt his ego too much, right?"

"Not at all."

"Okay, give me your number." She reached under the counter for her phone. We quickly exchanged numbers before I made a move to leave.

"Oh, it's my birthday today so you have to bring me a present." I grinned and she laughed, nodding her head.

"My fiancé won't disappoint you." She winked and that was the moment I knew I was falling for her.

This girl was my dream bestie.

With one last wave, I left her to join my moody cousin at the door. "Why do you get to flirt with the hot ones and I can't?"

"Because my flirting is friendly flirting and your flirting gets us kicked out of places." I gave him a pointed look, lowering my sunglasses over my face.

Damian lowered his own sunglasses and took the Prada bag from my hand, like a true gentleman. He threw a protective arm around my shoulders.

"You love it when I get us kicked out of places, Mildred." He grinned as the doors to the store opened and we were rushed back to our car by our security team.

Seven hours later I was standing inside our club called 'Helios' in Manhattan.

I was fucking wasted.

It turns out that Zari is a party animal.

I could tell my overprotective brother, Julius, and my cousin, Damian, weren't happy with the way we were swallowing the shots like water.

But it was my birthday so the pair had no choice but to keep it to themselves.

It was Papa Darmos's orders.

I was getting drunk to celebrate my birthday but also to console myself for what I knew was coming tomorrow. Turning 25 years old only meant one thing to my father. He gave me today to enjoy, but tomorrow I had a lifelong mission to start preparing for.

Marriage.

I never argued against it. As the only daughter of the leader of the Greek Mafia, I knew my responsibility was to marry into another crime family when the time came.

I never let my emotions cloud my thinking, but for one night I let myself enjoy being...just a girl.

A girl with no expectations or life altering responsibilities. A girl who didn't have to keep up a sophisticated reputation in the underworld to be a desirable marriage prospect.

A girl who didn't have to know self defence and carry a weapon everywhere she went, despite her bodyguards lurking in the shadows.

I wanted to just be a girl celebrating her 25th birthday.

So I was.

Even though I had a few other friends and cousins at my birthday party, I spent most of my time with Zari.

We clicked instantly.

The role of 'Millie's Bestie For Life' was very much vacant and I liked to think of my party as her audition for the spot.

She definitely aced it. I will be giving her a call in the morning.

Or the afternoon. I don't think I'll be seeing the morning after the number of shots I've taken.

"You need to slow down." My brother, Julius, suddenly popped up out of nowhere like the Genie in Aladdin.

It was his navy shirt. It just gave blue Genie vibes.

"Remember when Will Smith smacked that guy at the Oscars?" I gaped at my brother who looked utterly confused by my random question.

"That was a long time ago, Millie."

"It's still crazy as fuck. Excuse me."

"Just drink this." He handed me a glass of ice water, blocking my path back to the dance floor with his body.

He knew me well enough to know I'd try to make a break for it and then end up dead, thanks to my heels.

"If I drink it, you do your b-best Will Smith impres-sion on someone tonight." I hiccuped, slurring my words together slightly.

"You want me to smack someone at your birthday party?" He rose an eyebrow, amusement clouding his features.

"Why not? It's not like they're going to smack you back. Apart from your girlfriend, of course. She smacked you hard already." I giggled, sipping on the water he gave me.

He wasn't appreciative that I reminded him of that particular incident. I could tell by the way he rubbed his cheek, wincing at the painful memory.

"You deserved it." I pointed out.

"I didn't do anything wrong." He muttered, shifting his gaze towards his red headed girlfriend dancing with Zari.

"You t-told her that her ass looked good in her j-jeans." I hiccuped, glaring at him accusingly.

"It did. What the hell is wrong with that? I thought girls like compliments."

"She hates those jeans!" I definitely shouted louder than necessary.

I shouted loud enough for party goers in the neighbouring club to hear me. Many people, including the bartender, turned to see what the sudden commotion was about.

"You really need to get some air." My brother shook his head, taking a step away from me as if I was embarrassing him.

I nodded in agreement, sipping on my water.

"Naí, I think some air will help. I would say you should get some too, but you already have enough in here." (Yes) I stood up on my tip toes to tap the side of his head with a giggle.

"Go outside, Millie."

"What if I get stabbed?" I pouted, but a giggle tumbled out of my lips a second later.

I'd be that bitch laughing in the face of someone who was serious about killing me.

Maybe he'd run away after realising I'm bat shit crazy?

If not, I'd just come back to haunt him as a ghost until he stabbed himself.

Jokes on him, because then he'd be stuck as a ghost with me for eternity.

"We have security outside so, unfortunately, you'll still be coming home with me later."

I laughed again. It wasn't even funny because he just told me he'd rather I be stabbed than come home with him.

"Kay. I'm going to pee first - I can feel water sloshing around inside me." I did some weird dance with my hips which had him shaking his head out of embarrassment, again.

"Sober up before you end the night in straight jacket."

"A j-jacket won't go with my dress." I shook my head, holding back a gag at the thought.

"You don't layer Prada, bitch." I said it in my best Italian accent to emulate Mario Prada. But it sounded more like I was pretending to be a robot. Or, I was pretending to be a Scottish character from Harry Potter.

Are there Scottish characters in Harry Potter?

Hold the hell up.

Do they have Prada in Scotland?

I grabbed Julius's arm with a sudden gasp which came out more like a sob. "My poor Scottish darlings! They're going to be dressed so ugly."

Julius frowned as I downed the last of my water with a newfound determination. Then I began stumbling towards the exit of the club, totally forgetting about my need for the bathroom.

"We have to set up a charity to send Prada to Scotland."

"Millie-" I heard my brother in the distance but he wasn't important now.

Screw getting married, I've found my true purpose in life.

When Papa Dormas asks me tomorrow why I've suddenly packed my bags, I'm going to tell him I'm going to help those less fortunate in Scotland to dress better.

I stumbled out of the busy club entrance, the crowd outside being enough for me to accidentally fly under the radar of our security team. With the club being in neutral territory, we had extra security around. But I missed them all.

"Just because I can't remember where Scotland is right now, that doesn't mean they don't deserve my help. óchi, tha tous voithíso." (No, I will help them.)

I'm determined. "Do they even have direct flights from JFK to Scotland? I might need a boat."

Have you ever just gotten a little too drunk that you suddenly forget what you're supposed to be doing?

That's how I felt when I found myself mumbling about Prada in the middle of the narrow sidewalk on a quiet side road in Manhattan.

Well, it was quiet in comparison to the rest of Manhattan.

What I don't understand is why Manhattan is so busy.

Is Scotland this busy?

Bitch, I'm going to Scotland.

Thoughts of Scotland clouded my mind when I suddenly bumped into someone. A deep voice broke me out of my drunken thoughts and I immediately picked up on the strong accent.

"Watch where the hell you're going."

"Scotland?" I am going to Scotland. I stumbled a little in my heels from the impact of crashing into him. Unlike in those romance movies, he didn't bother to steady me to stop me from falling.

Thankfully I was able to regain my balance by myself as I turned to face the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on.

The dim street lighting just allowed me to see the features of the sculpted Adonis standing before me.

Everything about him was perfect - from his dark brown hair and olive toned skin, to his murky green eyes and plump pink lips.

He was a handsome stranger.

A handsome scary stranger.

"What?" He frowned in confusion at the way I previously blurted out the word 'Scotland' in the form of a question.

"Move." He spoke again, looking down at me as if I was that kind of plastic wrapper that keeps sticking to your hand every time you try to let go of it.

I read once it has some shit to do with the static and atoms and particles. But, regardless of the scientific explanation, it's irritating as hell and that's exactly how he was looking at me.

He was way taller than me even in my heels which made me feel even more inferior.

"Are you Scottish?" My genuine question had him frowning while one of the two guys next to him scoffed.

"Questa cagna ha appena chiesto se è scozzese." (This bitch really just asked if he's Scottish.)

I didn't know Italian very well, but I knew what cagna meant.

"I'm not a b-bitch." I hiccuped, my attention focusing on one of the two guys next to him.

They all shared similar features, like the green eye colour, olive skin and dark brown hair. The one who called me a bitch appeared to be the youngest and also the most impatient.

There was a lamppost on my left, the entrance to a sophisticated adult store on my right, and a row of parked cars preventing them from just going around me on the road. They had no way around and they were definitely losing patience, something my drunk-self didn't want to acknowledge.

"My brother told you to move, you little drunk-"

"Hey! It's my b-birthday! I can be drunk." I took a step closer to him to kick his ass, like a squirrel going up against a fox in a backyard skirmish.

Before I could use the self defence moves I'd learned from my trainer, the beautiful one spoke again.

"Just get out of my way." He muttered, his accent making it hard for me to understand what he said in my drunken state.

"What? Did you say y-you want money?" I frowned, trying to work out what he said. "I don't have...wait, no! I have." I nodded frantically, bringing my hand up to reach inside my bra where I always kept one hundred dollars whenever I went out.

If I was sober I would have laughed at the fact I was trying to give one hundred dollars to a man dressed in a Brioni suit with a Rolex on his wrist.

Almost instantly his hand sprung out and he snatched my wrist to stop me from digging into the front of my dress.

The contact had sparks shooting up my arm. I could feel the cool metal of his rings as his hand enclosed my comedically small wrist. Then he roughly let it go as if my touch disgusted him.

"I don't need your damn money, puttana." (Whore)

I couldn't help it, I gasped. Putána was also the translation of whore in Greek, but most of the world knows what the word means.

While I stared at man in shock, I was suddenly shoved to the side by the youngest brother - the one who spoke earlier. This time the impact was strong enough to have me falling over if it wasn't for Zari suddenly appearing behind me.

"Mil, are you okay?" She also slurred her words, just not as much as I was earlier.

But my encounter with these three men was sobering me up, and fast.

I stared in astonishment at the back of the man who had continued down the sidewalk as if he hadn't just shoved me hard enough to break my neck.

Two remained behind, also watching the retreating figure of their younger brother, but I couldn't make out their expressions. The Scottish man's eyes flickered back to me, but I spoke before he could.

"A simple, 'Excuse me, you're blocking the s-sidewalk and we're in a rush' would have been enough." I glared at him, my anger overpowering the alcohol in my system.

When I get angry, I get angry.

But, instead of stabbing him with the knife strapped to my thigh, I chose to use my words. I didn't need the hassle of asking my brother to cover up the murder of some rich, arrogant son of a bitch.

"Instead, you almost let me fall twice, and you call a girl you've never met the worst names under the sun."

His eyes narrowed and his lips parted as if he was about to speak but I continued before he could.

"Maláka. Your mother must be so proud of the three of you." (Asshole)

The moment I mentioned his mother I knew I'd struck a nerve - the kind of nerve even the devil wouldn't dare to capitalise on.

If I wasn't spurred on by the fire of the alcohol burning through my veins, I would have feared the look he gave me. It was the deadliest glare I'd ever been on the receiving end of - and that says a lot for a girl who's grown up in the Greek Mafia.

He didn't even need to say anything else, that look told me everything.

I could see it in the way his hands balled into fists and he took a threatening step towards me. I could see it when a vein popped in his neck and his Adam's apple bobbed as he strained to keep his vulgar insults contained.

I was the most despised creature to him at that very second and if he could, he would have killed me on the spot. His hand reached instinctively to his side, the same action Julius and Damian make whenever they reach for their weapon. But his brother stopped him from completing the move.

"Non. Andiamo." The brother who had remained by his side shoved him forward. He spoke in a strained voice, also sparing me a cold glare as the two of them continued down the sidewalk. (Don't. Let's go.)

As I watched them walk away, I could see how tense they both were - as if it was taking everything not to act out on their anger.

I saw them head into an Italian restaurant and that's when I finally realised how far down the road I'd ventured from our club.

"Come back to the club." Zari spoke gently behind me, taking my hand in hers.

"N-no." I shook my head, wishing I was strong enough not to let the emotions get to me.

But they did.

I felt my heart race in my chest and tears well up in my eyes from the confrontation I'd just drunkenly stumbled into.

"Hey." My view of the Italian restaurant was blocked by Zari who now stood in front of me. Her curly ringlets blew gently in the wind as she took my hands.

"I don't know what just happened, but don't let it ruin your birthday."

"I..." I also didn't know what happened. I couldn't really explain it. I was lost in my own world when I stupidly walked down the road from the club. Then, I was too drunk to even notice the convoy of cars they'd got out of before they bumped into me.

I was in a weird haze until the youngest brother shoved me into Zari. If she wasn't there I would have broken an ankle at the least.

Then I suddenly woke up.

"Come on. Let's get a drink and I'll give you a hug." She smiled, tugging on my hand to guide me back to the club. I angrily wiped away that one tear that managed to escape which made my hatred for those men surge.

They made me cry on my birthday...even after I offered to give them a hundred dollars.

Zari and I didn't mention it again. On our return to the club, I asked her not to tell my brother or Damian about it. They wouldn't have stopped until they found those men in the Italian restaurant where I knew they currently were.

They would let their anger get the better of them. Even if those three brothers seemed intimidating and threatening to me, my brother and Damian could kill them in seconds.

So, I let Zari order another round of shots while I finally went to the bathroom. Then I lost myself in the alcohol and the arms of my new bestfriend.

I think Julius and Damian could sense a change in my behaviour, especially from the way they stood at the edge of the dance floor watching my every move.

Usually I hated feeling like I was under a microscope. But this time I didn't mind. I was glad to have their eyes on me just so that I wouldn't find myself in anymore confrontations.

Unfortunately, the drama for that night wasn't done quite yet.

Sometime during my party, I was busy grinding against Zuri on the dance floor when she was suddenly yanked out of my hold.

"Hey!" I slurred, stumbling in my high heels while glaring at the man holding her. "She's m-my dance partner! Get your o-own!"

"She's my fiancée, you little-" The moment he scowled at me, I felt my two protective bodyguards come up next to me.

"Finish that sentence. I dare you." My brother stepped forward in a threatening manner, his eyes deadly. The two of them had a stare down that could only be described in one way - cold as hell.

It was like two alpha males going head to head with one another.

At least, that's what it seemed like.

Either I was really freaking drunk, or a few seconds later my brother suddenly smiled. The tension between them unexpectedly broke and then they were doing that stupid man hug.

I must be drunk as hell.

"Ryder." My brother patted this Ryder guy on the back.

"Julius. It's been a long time."

"Yeah, man. I thought you were moving to Chicago?" My brother frowned at Zari's fiancé, pulling back from their hug.

The two of them had some kind of catch up while I leaned against my cousin in a drunken haze. Damian wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin lazily on my head. I only zoned back in on the conversation when they both looked at me.

"Is this your sister?"

"Yeah." My brother turned to glare at me as if I'd done something wrong.

What's his freaking problem?

He's just jealous we got more birthday presents than he got for his birthday.

"Sorry, bro. I didn't know. I just saw Zari drunk off her face and I got a little heated."

So this guy isn't going to apologise to me?

"It's cool, man. She's wasted as hell." My brother glared at me again. This time I rolled my eyes which wasn't the best decision. The action disoriented me and I stumbled in Damian's arm forcing him to tighten his hold on my waist.

"See." Julius scoffed. "Come on. We can catch up while we get them some water to sober them up. I can't take Millie back home in this state."

Oh, yeah.

Papa Darmos said not to get too drunk.

I'm in trouble.

"Good idea." Ryder carefully guided Zari to a booth while my brother roughly dragged me along.

If it wasn't for Damian steadying me, I'm sure my death trap heels would have killed me. Then my brother would have had to explain to our father why he brought me home with a broken neck.

That's three times in one night my Louboutins were going to be the end of me.

But I'm still wearing them again.

"You know...it's my b-birthday." I narrowed my eyes at Zari's fiancé as the four of us sat around the table in the booth. Damian had walked off after he helped me to sit down.

"Happy birthday." He said drily.

"Present?" I tilted my head to the side. You can't come to a birthday party without a present. It's just really bad etiquette.

"Do I even know you?" He scoffed.

"You're at my b-birthday pa-rty." I pointed out with a hiccup or two. If we were close enough for him to attend my private 25th birthday party then we're close enough for him to get me a present.

"Fine." He muttered, digging into his jacket pocket. He pulled out some items in his palm and then tossed one of them on the table. "Here."

"Ooh." I smiled excitedly, picking up the wrapped strawberry flavoured bubblegum.

The surge of happiness definitely made up for the sadness I felt after that confrontation earlier that night. Before I could unwrap my birthday present, Damian appeared at my side.

"Drink this first, Maleficent." He put a tall glass of water in front of me.

"A-all of it? Again?" I turned to look at my cousin with a pout. "I don't wana."

Usually to other people Damian was intimidating as hell. As the future Underboss of the Greek Mafia, he had to be. But to me he was just my cuddly bestfriend.

"If you drink it, Mildred, you can have this." He held up the pink bubblegum and I automatically grinned.

"Kay." I brought the glass to my lips, leaning back in booth. "But if I drink a-all this I'm gonna need to pee again."

Damian laughed, dropping down next to me on in the booth. "It's a good thing we're close to the bathrooms then, right?"

"Right." I nodded, sipping on my water.

"Faster, Millie. We don't have all day." Julius leaned in closer, tilting the glass up a little from the bottom.

The bitch thought it would help me drink faster, but all it did was cause me to spill the water.

"Julius!" I pulled back, looking down at my wet Prada dress. I used the back of my hand to wipe the water off my mouth and chin, turning to glare at my brother.

"Now look! I'm all wet." I pouted while everyone chuckled at my misery.

"You always said you wanted to go to a water park for your birthday party." Julius smiled as if it was the funniest thing to remind me I never got my dream birthday party at a water park.

"That's not ev-en funny." I hiccuped, patting myself dry with the tissues Zari passed me.

"It was kind of funny, Mildred." Damian muttered, guiding the glass back to my lips.

"My name is Millie." That was the last thing I said before I quietly sipped on my water, listening to their catch up with Ryder.

>>>>>>>

Hangovers are a bitch.

Now add a vicious housekeeper and you've got a hangover crafted by the devil himself.

Mrs Kalogeropoulos, or as we call her, Mrs K, came storming into my bedroom at an ungodly hour in the morning.

I don't know how long she took to get me out of bed and into my bathroom. By the time I realised what was going on, I was standing under the flowing water of my shower, fully clothed in last night's dress.

There goes my new Prada baby.

She drowned in a puddle on the floor.

After she shoved me into the shower fully clothed, she left me to fend for myself in the bathroom.

So, I took my time to wash last night's memories away. Amid all the antics of last night, my mind drifted back to those murky green eyes that were so full of disgust and disdain.

By the time he walked away, he was ready to kill me.

In hindsight, I probably should have just pressed myself against the window of the adult store to let them pass. Perhaps I could have even gone inside to buy myself a new vibrator as a birthday present.

I did have a hundred dollars and Apple Pay on my phone.

But, I was too drunk to realise that they weren't as nice or friendly as I would have liked. But, they could have easily laughed off my clear mistake of thinking they were Scottish instead of Italian.

Instead they chose to be rude about it.

Even though my shower was supposed to be calming me down, the memories of last night were angering me all over again. It didn't help that I was also hungover.

I swear if I ever see that son of a bitch again, I'll stab him in the throat. Him or his younger brother that shoved me, I don't care which one I kill.

Then they'll learn not to call a strange drunk girl a whore or a bitch or push her thinking she won't be able to fight back.

After that very pleasing thought of seeing the life drain out of a pair of green eyes, I forced myself to focus on anything but those three Italian dicks.

I finished my shower and then I just stood there letting the hot water ease the tension in my muscles. By the time I was stepping out of the shower, my bathroom was clouded with steam just the way I liked it.

It's only a successful shower if the water is hot enough to steam the bathroom up.

But that warmth was quickly replaced with cold when I stepped out into my bedroom to face Mrs K. They say parts of hell are icy cold and the ice burns when it touches your skin. That was how I felt when she glared at me.

She didn't mind our lifestyle in the Greek Mafia; I actually think she rather enjoyed the sounds of men being tortured in our basement when my father and brother chose to work from home.

But Mrs K had an aversion to drinking and clubbing. She hated the idea of young adults becoming intoxicated and losing their inhibitions. She was a very religious woman.

She glared at me as I approached her in my towel, heading into my walk in closet.

"And you're still here because?" The last thing my raging hangover and I needed was this woman's glare from hell.

"Because I know you, korítsi. You'll go back to bed and leave your father waiting for you downstairs." (Girl)

Did she just call me a girl?

A girl?

Has she seen this ass?

"If that psycho wants to talk at this unholy hour, I won't disappoint him." I dug through the rails in my closet, pulling out a large oversized hoodie I stole from Julius. Then I paired that with some leggings.

"It's 11a.m." Mrs K's tone was flat as she watched me from the door to my closet.

She's just as psychotic as the rest of my family.

"The fact you just said a.m and didn't flinch in disgust explains it all, honey." I turned to give her a sweet smile but I was met with another one of those hellish glares.

"Don't sass me, Millicent. Get changed before I come and dress you myself." With that she left the closet to give me some privacy.

Rolling my eyes, and instantly regretting it, I put on some undergarments before dressing in my hangover outfit. Of course I added sunglasses. Even inside, they're a staple for any hangover outfit.

Before heading downstairs I quickly took some painkillers, courtesy of our devilish housekeeper.

"Are the sunglasses really necessary, agápi mou?" (My love) My father sat amused behind his desk as I trudged into his office so early in the morning.

"Min xekinás apó eména tóra, géronta." (Don't start with me right now, old man.)

I glared at him, dropping down on one of the comfy chairs across from his desk.

I was met with the sound of his deep laughter. He leaned back in his chair, studying me with his brown eyes.

"You're always so mean. O mellontikós syzygós sas tha prépei na zitísei apó ton Kyrio na sas dósei ypomoní apénantí ??tou." (Your future husband should ask the Lord to grant you patience towards him.)

"My future husband is going to need me to have a lot more than just patience towards him if he wants to survive this marriage.

" Patience wasn't enough. He should ask the Lord to grant me a new personality altogether.

"You know these men won't be able to handle me.

" I murmured, leaning back in the chair.

I wasn't just bratty and demanding, I spoke my mind and didn't hold back in doing so.

I also had high expectations of how a husband should treat his wife.

My father and the rest of my male relatives had taught me to know my worth and never settle for anything less. I seriously doubt many other mafia men shared the same values that the Greek Mafia had towards their women. That could prove to be a problem if, and when, I join another family.

"You're going to have to learn how to adjust. Not every family and organisation tolerate women being so outspoken."

"Well that shouldn't be too much of a problem. I want a say in who I marry."

My father had always been very clear of what was expected of us. My brother would be taking over the Mafia from him and I would marry someone who would benefit our organisation.

I had my own feelings towards this, but I didn't argue. It was my life, it was the life of all the women before me and it would be the same after me, too.

I wasn't under the misguided impression I could change a centuries old institution and all its values. But, the least I wanted was to have a say in who I was chained to for the rest of my life. If my father loved me, he wouldn't want me to be trapped in an unhappy marriage, right?

In our world, dating didn't exist. It was arranged marriages and arranged marriages only.

But we made an agreement when I turned 18 and became eligible for marriage. He wouldn't pressure me to get married young, as long as I didn't put up a fight when the time came.

At that point, my goal was to go to college where I studied English Language. Then I started my own publishing company. I always loved business after growing up in the Mafia and watching my father handle deal after deal. But I loved writing too.

So after one drunken night wallowing in my feelings with Damian, I came up with the idea of starting a publishing company.

Rhea Publishing.

I didn't want it to be associated only with the Darmos family, hence why I used my middle name. My father had a long list of legitimate businesses that had him in every news cycle for one scandal or another. I wanted to start a company on my own from the ground up.

Yes, it wasn't nearly as successful as any one of my father's companies. But it was my baby.

But now that I was 25 years old, according to my father, it was time for me to focus on marriage. He honoured our agreement by letting me work, so I wasn't putting up a fight now.

But that didn't mean it was easy for me to process the idea of marriage.

Marriage meant I would be leaving my family home and our mafia. I would be leaving my brother and Damian - my two closest friends. I would be pledging my loyalty to another organisation completely - perhaps in a foreign country.

I had an attachment to my family, as much as they irritated the hell out of me.

My cousin, Damian, was the closest thing I had to a bestfriend. He was four years old when I was born and he's been protective over me ever since.

Damian was Julius's future underboss. They've been bestfriends ever since they were infants. When I came along, the three of us did everything together.

I did love my brother, even if he was way too protective of me and annoying as hell sometimes. He was the one who helped me to navigate this life we were born into. As my older brother, at 30 years old, he had more experience and understanding of how it all worked behind the scenes.

He was always there for me when I struggled mentally or emotionally with the constraints of our world.

And I loved my parents. I did whatever I could to please them. All I wanted was for them to be proud of me and the woman I've become.

So I had to fulfil my obligations to the Mafia, regardless of how hard it could be to leave.

Apart from Mrs K, everyone here treats me like a princess since I'm the only daughter. That wouldn't be the case if I moved into another family - another life.

"You can have a say, but the final decision will be mine, Millie. That's just how this works." I so badly wanted to argue with him, but it wasn't the time. I was hungover as hell and he was sitting behind his desk where he felt the most powerful as the leader of the Greek Mafia.

"And it has to be another leader? Someone in your position?"

"Not necessarily a current leader, no. But he does have to be the heir to the organisation.

You can't marry someone below your status, it doesn't work that way.

You're my princess, it's only fair I marry you off to a king.

" He gave me a teasing smile, referencing the stories he used to tell me when I was a little girl.

I was a romantic at heart. All I ever wanted was a man to sweep me off my feet - someone I could fall head over heels for. But it seemed extremely unlikely that I'd ever get that. I'd be lucky to even be happy in my marriage let alone deeply in love.

"Dad..." A bubble of emotions rose up inside me and I was on the verge of begging him to let me out of this marriage.

I always tried to ignore the emotional side of all of this. I didn't want to be an emotional wreck and come across as a spoiled princess. I was naturally cool headed and calculating just like everyone else in my family.

But anyone would feel sad to know their chance of falling in love is being taken away from them.

"It's time now, Millie. I want you to have your pick and that won't happen if you get any older. Your options will become limited with time. 25 years old is a good age."

"Who are...who are my options?" The words tasted sour on my tongue. I was a romantic so talking about my future husband as a business partner wasn't easy.

"Let's go and get some breakfast and we'll discuss it with your brother, naí?" (Yes?)

He stood up from his chair, coming towards me with a soft smile.

"I'm sure you're hungry and in need of some coffee after your late night?" This guy was mocking me and my hangover.

"It's not funny." I glared at him, standing to my feet. "You were the one who sent that battle axe into my room so damn early in the morning. You're a psychopath."

"Actually, I asked your brother to wake you up. He was the one who chose to send the 'battle axe' instead."

What a little shit. I take it back, I don't love Julius. Not after the ultimate betrayal.

Sending Mrs K is like a death sentence.

We made into the dining room where my mother and Julius were already waiting for us. Julius was wearing the exact same outfit I was - a hoodie and sunglasses.

"I told you not to get too drunk, but apparently neither of you listened to me." My father's statement was aimed at my brother who had his head resting on the dining table.

"Can we just eat?" Julius grumbled.

"You don't deserve to eat after what you did to me. You know Mrs K hates hangovers and you sent her to me anyway."

"It's not my fault you chose to get shitfaced last night." He muttered, finally filling up his plate.

"Are you proud of yourselves?" I shifted my glare towards my parents as I ungracefully dropped down on a chair. "That is the man you've raised."

They both glanced over at my brother who couldn't care less about what I was saying.

"He wasn't wrong, Millie." My father smiled, filling up his plate too.

"It was your fault." My mother added, rubbing my arm sympathetically.

"At least I'm not the only one who thinks you're stupid." My mouth dropped open when Mrs K walked in sporting an amused grin.

"I could fire you, you know?" I glared at her from behind my sunglasses.

I could fire anyone.

"Then why didn't you do it 25 years ago?" She smirked, putting down a small dish containing the supplements I took every single morning.

She also gave me the green juice she makes which is pure magic.

Only Mrs K can make it but this thing pretty much cures hangovers, period cramps, nausea, headaches and the flu.

I was extremely dedicated to my supplement regime.

Taking regular vitamins and herbal supplements had many benefits to my energy levels, skin and hair. But the main reason I took them was for my period cramps.

My period cramps were no joke.

But I was totally against ever going on birth control to reduce the pain. I wanted to have control over my body and any potential side effects.

So, supplements were the way I controlled the pain. If I took them every day without fail, my period cramps were tolerable.

Otherwise...well, it wasn't pretty.

I took my pills while Mrs K leaned over my shoulder to put some scrambled egg in my plate for me. She knew it was my favourite. She knew all my favourites.

"Oh, can I have one more hash brown, please?" I gave her a grin and she laughed, adding another one to plate.

"Enjoy your food, louloudi mou." (My flower) She smiled, placing a hand on my arm.

"Thank you." I turned back to give her as much of a smile as I could muster with my hangover and the upcoming discussion about marriage.

This wasn't going to be easy.