Chapter 1
Marco
“What are you doing here?” I grumble at my uninvited visitor.
“It’s Thursday,” Mia announces sarcastically.
“I’m aware of what day it is. I asked what you are doing here.”
“Come on, Marco. Today’s our day.” She walks further into my office as if she belongs here.
“What makes you think we have a day ?”
“I came last Thursday and the Thursday before.”
“Because I summoned you here. I have not contacted you today.”
“Well, I’m here now.” Mia puts her bag down and starts to unbutton her blouse.
Annoyed at her blatant disrespect, I stand forcefully from my desk. My chair slides from beneath me, banging into the wall at my back.
“Get out!” I boom.
Mia jumps, startled.“Marco, you know you want—”
“No, Mia. Do as I say when I say it and not before!”
Mia’s nostrils flare. She grabs her bag and storms out of my office. As she does, her perfume makes its way across the room and soaks into my senses. I can smell her. I can taste her need. My cock stirs in anticipation. Growling at the protests of my body, I go after her.
“Stop!” I command.
She turns to face me at the front door. I use my body to push her against it. Both my hands wrap around her neck. I feel her heart rate quicken. She tips her head back. Her mouth opens slightly.
“Why do you continue to disrespect me? Disobedience does not go unpunished, Mia. Get back in there and beg for my forgiveness.”
One side of her mouth curls up into a smirk, an eyebrow rises, and her eyes twinkle beneath her lashes. Oh, Mia is a bad girl.
After teaching Mia a lesson neither of us will forget for a while, it is back to business.
The Guerra have always had a very close relationship with the head of police. This year has seen changes that I am not happy with, including the replacement of that chief, thus breaking our close relationship. It is time I paid our new chief a little visit.
Van has the car ready when I leave the house. Once I’m settled in the back, he gives me a nod through the rear-view mirror and pulls out of the driveway. Another car, containing my men, follows closely behind us. The weather is surprisingly dull today, considering the time of year. Dark clouds are approaching up ahead. I don’t like rain. But today the inevitable storm does nothing to dampen my mood. Today I am in an unusually good mood. It must be Chief Lorenzo’s lucky day.
As we walk through the police station, my men stay one pace behind me, their steps in time with my own. A couple of officers try and prevent our intrusion, but I don’t stop when they stand in my path, and inevitably their inferior bodies bounce off mine, which knocks them to the floor. We walk into Lorenzo’s office, but he doesn’t seem surprised by my invasion.
“Guerra, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Lorenzo’s sarcastic tone has my blood boiling.
“It has come to my attention that many of my workers have been arrested.”
“Oh, and have they committed a crime?” Lorenzo asks, playing dumb.
“They have been arrested during our allocated windows,” I explain firmly.
“I don’t understand what you mean by allocated windows.” Lorenzo sits back in his chair, trying to look unaffected by me.
I bang my fists on his desk, sending papers flying on to the floor.
“Don’t fuck with me, Lorenzo. The Guerras have had this arrangement for generations. You are playing with fire if you think you have any influence in changing that.”
“Oh, I’m not fucking with you, Marco Guerra. I’m deadly serious. You are not the law. I am. And things are going to change around here.”
“Over my dead body!” I fire back.
Lorenzo smirks. “Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Guerra.”
I leave before I put a bullet between his eyes, but not before throwing his desk over and smashing his lamp.
Lorenzo doesn’t react, but his face has an expression I can’t read.
Mia
After leaving Marco’s house feeling satisfied, I get into my convertible, put on my sunglasses, touch up my glossy red lips, and set off down the driveway. I don’t need to look into the rear-view mirror to know that Marco is watching me leave. He may be the boss of the Guerra empire, but he is not the boss of me. Marco thinks he is in control of our arrangement. Although we are nothing serious, he is far from in control. I have him just where I want him.
Vista Mare is a beautiful restaurant overlooking the sea, hence the name. This is where I am meeting my friends for lunch. I pull up at the front, where my door is opened, and a hand appears to help me out of my car. The restaurant doesn’t have valet parking, but nothing is too much trouble for them where I am concerned. I hand the handsome gentleman my keys, and he gives me wink. Walking into the restaurant, I feel his eyes roaming up and down my red dress. He’s not the only one. I’m not oblivious to the heads that turn when I walk into a room. The women want to be me, and the men want to be in me. Confidently I strut through the restaurant with a big smile and my head held high. The restaurant manager leads me to my usual table, where I find my girls waiting for me.
“Mia!” The three of them stand and each give me an overexaggerated hug and kiss, as if they didn’t see me just yesterday. Out of the three of them, I trust Emmaline the most. We haven’t even known each other that long, but I know I could tell her anything and it wouldn’t go any further. Unlike the other two on the opposite side of the table. I’ve known these girls since school. They’ve followed me around like two lost sheep since they realised who I was. I couldn’t have gotten rid of them if I’d wanted to. Being friends with Mia Alboni gives you status, and it’s the status they want. To be honest, I have used them just as much as they have used me. They’re both attractive girls, so as a group, we attract attention, and I use this to my advantage. They’re a good distraction when I need to escape from somewhere or a next-best thing if I can’t be bothered attending an event.
The girls order champagne, as of course they know I will cover the bill. They’ll do their “Oh no, Mia, you paid last time—I’ll get this” routine as always, knowing full well it would empty their bank accounts if they did. I know exactly how much they get paid because I pay their wages. I also know how extravagant their lifestyles are and that they literally live from payday to payday. They don’t earn a great deal, but on the other hand, they don’t do a great deal either. Both Lucia and Marisa are influencers for my makeup brand. Each of them is your stereotypical good-looking girl who has, let’s say, “enhanced” herself with fillers, and fakeness. They often get asked if they’re twins, which they are not. But they look good on film, and I’m more than happy for them to be the faces of my social media. It’s what sells, and it means I don’t have to get involved.
“Are there any allergies we need to be aware of? I know of Miss Alboni’s nut allergy, but are there any others?” the waiter asks as he pours the champagne while we scan the menu.
“Not for me, thank you.” Emmaline covers her glass. “I’m driving. I’ve got to pick Alfie up from school later.”
Emmaline is so beautiful inside and out. She sits beside me in a white cotton sundress, fresh faced, her hair in loose waves, and is certainly the most attractive woman in the restaurant. I envy her. To be able to just be herself. To leave her house in whatever she feels comfortable in and not have to worry about what people think of her.
“Right, girls,” I say, addressing Lucia and Marisa. “We have the brand launch event in London coming up. Make sure you read the information I have emailed to you. You don’t need to do anything—I have arranged it all. Just ensure you know the new products inside out. Oh, and go over the guest list to make sure I haven’t missed off anyone of high influence.” I then turn to Emmaline. “Are you sure you won’t come?”
Emmaline declines. “Thank you, but no. I can’t leave my son. Plus, I’ll stay and make sure everything is okay while you’re gone.”
After lunch, we say goodbye to Emmaline, who generously tips the staff, as I wouldn’t let her pay for her meal. Lucia and Marisa jump in the back of my open-top car, sitting on the backs of the seats rather than where their bums are supposed be. Annoyed at the disrespect for my leather seats, I put my foot down as I set off, throwing them back just enough that the bottle of champagne they brought with them from the restaurant spills in their faces as they pass it between them, drinking from the bottle. Honestly, anyone would think they’re in their early twenties, not thirties.
Driving through the town, I have my music on loud to cover their annoying giggles and chatter while they take selfies. As soon as the car is parked, I grab my Bottega Veneta handbag and make my way up the cream-coloured stone street. The girls hurry after me, their heels clip-clapping on the stones as they rush to catch up with me.
This street is my favourite shopping destination, home to a wealth of world-renowned fashion houses, designer boutiques, and high-end department stores. I make sure I’m seen here at least once a week. The need to keep up appearances means I frequent here much more often than I would choose, but at least it’s a beautiful place to be. I’m in awe every time I visit, taking in the stunning architecture and historic buildings. Plus, I do like a nice handbag, so I put up with it.
Being part of the Guerra organisation brings great responsibilities. Although my family isn’t part of the main bloodline, the men in my family have always played very important roles. My father is a retired consigliere, the right-hand man, advisor, and trusted friend of one of the late Guerra leaders. My brother now takes on this role for Marco Guerra, the current man in charge. Marco. The thought of him makes my heart beat a little faster. The excitement and thrill I got from being around him this morning makes me smile.
Our first shop is MIA. MIA is my worldwide cosmetics brand. The stores are exclusive to Italy, but I have a revised range in all good beauty retailers across the world. It’s all excitement when we arrive. We have a maximum number policy so that customers can have a more relaxed shopping experience. We found that during Covid, we made more money with the restrictions. As people had spent time queuing to get in the store, when they actually got inside, they made the most of their time in there. Instead of running in and just getting what they needed, they browsed almost every item. On average people spend double the amount per visit than before our restrictions.
I make a fuss of all our lovely customers queuing outside. I take selfies with them, chat about their favourite products, and thank them for coming. Inside, the girls and I pose for images to use on our social media and marketing campaigns. The MIA brand is exclusively black, red, and glitter, from the packaging to the products. If it’s not sparkly, it’s not MIA. The funny thing is, I don’t use any of the MIA range. I don’t do glitter, and our fragranced products are far too sweet for me.
Moving on, we browse the boutiques and department stores, buying a range of accessories for me and the girls. As usual it’s my black credit card that takes the hit.
After speaking to the locals and enforcing the Guerras omnipresence, I leave Lucia and Marisa and head home.
Home is my happy place. This is where I feel like myself. My home is in a rural part of Italy. Set back from the main road, the house is an old farmhouse and barn I converted. A lot of the work I did myself, knocking walls down, painting, and even tiling. I may have immaculate nails, but I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. I’m far from a princess.