CHRISTIAN VICIOUS’ VOLKOV.
“I visited her by the clinic today, she and Millie look happy. The young man was also kind in helping me-,”
“What young man?”
I ask Juana, putting the documents down first and taking a swig of my whiskey.
“The dashing nurse. Xavier, I think. He’s at sweetheart in helping people around”
I bet he fucking is.
He probably licks the floors clean too for the
Little Nurse.
“Vicious?”
“You can go to sleep; I don’t need anything else.”
I glance back at the documents.
And in all honesty, I can’t see shit and that’s not the alcohol talking but a whole lot of crap
happening in my body as I imagine some punk
nurseman getting cozy with the sunshine.
blonde.
My sunshine blonde.
“Vicious? If I may?”
He was my dark prince.
Forged in the darkness, meant to stem evil around him, meant to pretend he was someone else underneath a false sense of duty and obligation but I knew him.
I was his light in the darkness, I loved his evil, I knew the prince lurking beneath all that armor.
The prince who once talked to me and made me feel I was worthy.
I was pretty.
I was powerful.
Mio principe wiped my tears at the age of ten when my mother had one of her panic attacks at her lavish parties and lashed out at me.
Mio principe held me and listened to me tattle about my miserable life.
My prince looked me in the eyes and told me, “You are a principessa. Don’t let anyone treat you otherwise.”
Fate and his past had separated us but a love that
was forged and written in the skies couldn’t be
erased.
Destiny worked.
I believed in destiny.
I believed in myself.
Just like Christian Vitello had once told me; I was a princess and a princess got everything she wanted including his heart.
“Silencio!”
Allagra Pallis, my mama, CEO of Pallis Motors and the head of the Five Mafioso Families slaps her hand on the thirtytwoseat conference table.
At the age of fortyfive and with a face that didn’t seem to age. Allagra Pallis was a force to be reckoned with.
Imbued with a tongue that would rival the gods. themselves, a witty mind that wasn’t passed down to me in any way and a shortcircuited temper, Allagra was the epitome of perfection.
The epitome of my imperfections.
The epitome of the stinging jealousy that stung my heart when she mentioned my dead sister who she wished would be heir to the Pallis family instead of me.