MidReal Story

My Life with the Mafia Boss

Scenario:Born into a family with connections to the mafia, I’ve never had any say in my life decisions. My father was pitiless, and very glad to give me, his only daughter, in marriage to one of the most ruthless mafia bosses in the country, Alessandro Ricci. I didn’t even meddle in the family’s business. I was just an ordinary woman who enjoyed the little things in life, although I had a bit of a temper when faced with injustice. Unfortunately, my fierce spirit did very little to help me avoid this marriage. The ceremony was lavish, but superficial. From the luxurious decoration to the people, everything seemed forced and business-like. It had nothing to do with my dream of getting married to a man I love and respect. Yeah, exactly, Alessandro had nothing of the man I’d dream of marrying. He was cold, commanding, and short-tempered on top of being a workaholic in the worst job imaginable. While I was quietly removing my jewelry in the en suite of the mansion I was taken to, I heard the door opening behind me. Alessandro entered, his usual sternness written all over his face. He sighed deeply and started removing his jacket and tie. ā€œThat’s not where you should be,ā€ he stated dryly. ā€œThere are a few rules you have to follow as my wife,ā€ he added, unbuttoning his shirt effortlessly and slipping it off his shoulders, revealing his sculpted back, inked with reminders of his dangerous life. ā€œNot entering my room without my permission is one of them. There’s another room for you at the end of the hallway.ā€ He was now looking over his shoulder to glance at me.
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Born into a family with connections to the mafia, I’ve never had any say in my life decisions. My father was pitiless, and very glad to give me, his only daughter, in marriage to one of the most ruthless mafia bosses in the country, Alessandro Ricci. I didn’t even meddle in the family’s business. I was just an ordinary woman who enjoyed the little things in life, although I had a bit of a temper when faced with injustice. Unfortunately, my fierce spirit did very little to help me avoid this marriage. The ceremony was lavish, but superficial. From the luxurious decoration to the people, everything seemed forced and business-like. It had nothing to do with my dream of getting married to a man I love and respect. Yeah, exactly, Alessandro had nothing of the man I’d dream of marrying. He was cold, commanding, and short-tempered on top of being a workaholic in the worst job imaginable. While I was quietly removing my jewelry in the en suite of the mansion I was taken to, I heard the door opening behind me. Alessandro entered, his usual sternness written all over his face. He sighed deeply and started removing his jacket and tie. ā€œThat’s not where you should be,ā€ he stated dryly. ā€œThere are a few rules you have to follow as my wife,ā€ he added, unbuttoning his shirt effortlessly and slipping it off his shoulders, revealing his sculpted back, inked with reminders of his dangerous life. ā€œNot entering my room without my permission is one of them. There’s another room for you at the end of the hallway.ā€ He was now looking over his shoulder to glance at me.

Isabella Ricci

mafia boss's wife,married to Alessandro Ricci,petite with fiery red hair,determined and resilient.

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Alessandro Ricci

ruthless mafia boss and Isabella's husband,married to Isabella Ricci,tall with a chiseled physique and cold eyes,authoritative and shorttempered.

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Marco Ricci

Alessandro's younger brother and Isabella's confidant,single but close to Isabella Ricci,lean with a charming smile and warm eyes.

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The Mafia.
Organized crime.
One of the oldest and darkest forms of human depravity, dating back to caveman times when the strongest took what they wanted and humans formed tribes for protection.
In modern times it was no different except that instead of clubs, spears and stones, they used guns, knives and explosives to get what they wanted—and usually got away with it all.
Except murder wasn’t legal anywhere in the world I knew of—which didn’t mean murderers didn’t get away with it. They did every day—sometimes by getting off on technicalities or because there just wasn’t enough evidence to convict them—or keep them locked up for long if convicted at all.
But sometimes justice prevailed through other means than law enforcement or courts which made me wonder occasionally if karma really existed?
I stared into my mirror-showered bathroom door where a redheaded woman stared back—a little pissed-off-looking expression on her face too—as I thought about how fucking karma would be right now.