★★Mariella's POV★★



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The sound of birds chirping gently fills the air, accompanied by the warm breeze flowing through my open balcony door. I forgot to close it again. Oops. A soft meow breaks the tranquility. I groan and roll over, hoping it'll stop. Another meow.

Mellow, please, I need my beauty sleep.

With a frustrated sigh, I grab a pillow and shove it against my face, trying to block out the sound. Finally, the world falls silent, and I start to doze off. But just as I'm about to sink into deeper sleep, a loud knock on the door shatters the peaceful stillness. I drag the pillow off my face, hitting the covers with my fists in annoyance. I open my eyes, wincing at the brightness. "Ah!" I yelp, quickly shutting them again.

Everything's too bright.

The sun needs to go away.

Another knock, louder this time, followed by a soft voice from the other side of the door. "Signorina, le ho portato il solito succo mattutino con alcune vitamine." (Miss, I've brought your usual morning juice with some vitamins.) It's Lucia, one of the head maids.

"Entra, Lucia, (Enter)" I murmur in a low, raspy voice, still not opening my eyes. I'm not ready for the world just yet.

The door creaks open, and faint footsteps grow closer. A metal tray clinks on the nightstand. Lucia scoffs, and I can hear the smile in her voice as she says, "Mariella. Sai che dovrai aprire gli occhi per vedere bene." (Mariella, you know you'll have to open your eyes to see, right?)

I groan like a child. "But...but...why?" My voice is whiny and pitiful.

"Come on, you do this all the time," she says with an amused chuckle. "Now, up."

Reluctantly, I crack one eye open, then the other, almost as if I expect to see a monster in front of me. But it's just the sunlight streaming in, bathing the room in brightness. I groggily sit up, leaning against the headboard. Lucia holds out a green juice in one hand and a small bowl of vitamins in the other.

I grab the pills first, swallowing them quickly before grabbing the juice and gulping it down in one go. I don't even think about what it tastes like. I don't know what Lucia puts in it, and I don't want to know. All I know is that it's good for me.

Her words, not mine.

Lucia takes the empty cup from me with a warm smile. "Grazie, Lucia, (Thanks)" I mumble, offering a tired smile in return.

Her face shifts to one of annoyance. "It's nine in the morning, so don't even think about going back to sleep when I leave. Fatto? (Got it?)"

I roll my eyes and groan loudly. "Yes, mama," I reply sarcastically, giving her a mock salute.

Little does she knows.

She chuckles and walks out of the room, closing the door behind her. Finally, peace. Just a little more sleep, just a tiny bit more.

As I settle back into my bed, finding the perfect position, the door bursts open again.

"Mariella!" Lucia calls out, her voice sharp.

I jolt upright. "What? I was just... testing the pillow," I say nervously, chuckling.

Lucia leaves without another word, and this time, I know I'm actually getting up.

I went through my usual routine of getting ready for the day. Walking into my walk-in closet, a wave of familiarity and comfort hit me. "Gosh, how I've missed you," I muttered to myself as I pulled open the drawer with my workout clothes. Since I had nothing planned for the day, I figured I could squeeze in some cardio.

I picked out navy blue leggings and a matching sports bra. Grabbing my Nike socks and sneakers, I headed to the mirror. I pulled my hair into a tight ponytail, then braided the rest. I gave myself a sharp nod in approval. "Looks good."

Mellow, ever the curious one, appeared from under the bed—her favorite hiding spot. I turned around, cradling her in my arms. "Baby, please forgive me for ignoring you," I said, lifting her like Simba from The Lion King.

She gave me a soft meow in response. "I'll take that as a yes."

With a smile, I closed my bedroom door behind me and walked down the hall, carrying Mellow as I descended the spiral staircase. At the bottom, I made a sharp turn and entered the kitchen, chattering as I went.

Why is everyone and their mama awake?

The room buzzed with overlapping conversations. My father sat at the head of the table, with Enzo and Santino seated across from him, casually eating their breakfast. The maids were busy cooking, while Gio and a few of the guards sat at the island table, enjoying their morning meals. As soon as I stepped into the room, the sound of clinking cutlery and quiet chatter halted, and everyone turned to stare at me.

Oh-oh.

I looked around, half-expecting to see Beyoncé behind me. Why was everyone staring?

I'm not gonna deny the attention. So...

A little startled, I forced a big smile and said loudly, "Good morning, you beautiful people!"

Enzo shot me an annoyed look, Santino bit back a laugh, and Gio and the guards looked at me with concern. The only one genuinely happy to see me was my father, who grinned widely, his face lighting up as if I'd just made his entire morning.

"Good morning, my love," my father greets, grinning from ear to ear. His warmth is undeniable, and as if on cue, the room's chatter resumes. I skip toward him like a giddy child, placing a kiss on his forehead, which he reciprocates with one on mine. I chuckle softly.

"Sit, bellezza, (Beauty)" he says, gesturing to the chair beside him. I pull it out and sit, cradling Mellow in my arms as she lets out a soft meow. I stroke her gently, her purring already soothing my morning nerves.

One of the maids approaches and places a fruit bowl in front of me. "Grazie, (Thanks,)" I say with a smile. She nods, returning the gesture warmly. My usual. I've never been much of a breakfast person—light and simple is my style.

I nibble on a few pieces of melon, occasionally ripping off tiny bites for Mellow, who greedily devours them. My father watches me with a content smile, his hands resting on the table.

"I hope you slept well, bellezza?" he asks.

With a mouth full of melon, I mumble, "Perfect!" I quickly chew and swallow before continuing. "And you? I hope you had a nice sleep too." I squeeze his hand gently.

He holds my hand and replies, "Perfect." His voice carries a calm certainty, and I nod as I pop a piece of cantaloupe into my mouth.

Then, without warning, he says, "Have you apologized to Giovanni yet?"

The words hit me like a freight train, and I immediately choke on the melon. My body convulses as I cough, my father quickly patting my back. "You alright? Please chew your food, bellezza," he says, concerned yet amused.

"I—uh—" I sputter, still recovering, "No, but I'm going to." My nervous chuckle betrays me.

He gives me that look, the one only a father can master. "You promise?"

No, papa. I'd rather... eat a bowl of nails.

But instead, I plaster on a smile. "Yes, after I'm done eating," I say, now nibbling at my fruit like a guilty toddler.

I glance over at Gio, who's already staring. Of course, he is. He's got that smug little smirk, the one that says he knows exactly what's happening and is relishing every second of it. God, why is he enjoying this? Because I left him? Seriously, Giovanni, get over it.

Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him. He responds by taking a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze locked on mine. The sheer audacity. I roll my eyes dramatically and look away.

I hate him.

As I finished my fruit bowl, I excused myself from the table, my father's watchful gaze following me like a hawk. Sneaking off to the back patio wasn't an option, not with him keeping tabs on my every move. With a resigned sigh, I placed Mellow on the floor. Of course, my traitorous cat darted off without a second glance.

Straightening my posture, I held my head high and made my way toward the guards' table, where a group of men sat eating breakfast. Gio was deep in conversation with one of them, oblivious to my approach—or so he pretended.

As I circled the table to stand behind him, the guards noticed me and immediately scrambled to attention. "Buongiorno, Signorina De Angelis," they greeted in unison, their voices respectful and a little nervous. All except Gio, of course.

I offered the group a polite smile. "Morning, boys," I said warmly. Predictably, a few of them turned red and flustered. My smile dropped, though, as I turned my attention to Gio. He still hadn't acknowledged me, choosing instead to focus on his plate like I didn't exist.

Little bitch.

Determined to get his attention, I coughed, loudly and intentionally. Nothing. He ignored me completely. Fine, two can play this game. I coughed again, louder this time, my patience wearing thin.

Still nothing.

Now irritated, I crossed my arms, popped a hip, and tapped my foot for added drama. Finally, he turned, his dark eyes meeting mine, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

"Are you sick, bambina (light girl)?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

Ugh, Bambina.

He knew how much I hated that nickname, and the smirk on his face told me he was enjoying every second of this.

"No," I replied, narrowing my eyes at him as if he were the dumbest person alive. "I need a word with you." My voice was quiet, the words almost painful to force out.

He leaned back in his chair, his smirk deepening. "I didn't quite catch that," he said, tilting his head as if he hadn't heard me.

Oh, he definitely heard me.

He's gonna hear me when I shove my hand his ass.

I rolled my eyes and glanced over at my father, who was still watching me, clearly waiting to see if I'd follow through.

Damn it.

Turning back to Gio, I raised my voice. "I need a word with... you," I repeated firmly before spinning on my heel and walking out onto the patio.

Behind me, I heard him chuckle, followed by the sound of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood.

When I hear his footsteps behind me, I turn around sharply. My gaze falls on him, standing there with his hands clasped behind his back. His muscles strain against the fabric of his long black-sleeve shirt, which is neatly tucked into black cargo pants. The ensemble is completed by big black boots and an earpiece in his left ear, with a gun holstered at his side. His entire presence screams authority, but it's his piercing eyes that lock me in place for a moment.

I shake it off, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. "Alright, let's just get this over with," I snap, my tone sharp and impatient. My eyes flick away from his, unwilling to look directly at him for too long.

"Since you're being such a big baby—and a very petty one at that—" I add, my voice dripping with annoyance, "I'm so sorry for leaving without telling you." My words are laced with sarcasm, my tone deliberately harsh. "Hell, I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."

His lips twitch, and I can see he's biting back a laugh. That smug look only fuels my irritation.

I glare at him, tightening my arms across my chest as I step closer. "And don't even think for a second that I actually mean any of this," I say coldly, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. He's taller than me—annoyingly so. I wish I had a stool just to even the playing field. "I'm only saying it because of my father," I add, my tone almost venomous.

The air between us grows tense, silent. He's still staring at me, that infuriating smirk plastered on his face. If I could, I'd stitch his mouth shut just to make him stop.

Then, as if mocking me, he mirrors my stance, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes glint with amusement, and I can feel the tension building as we size each other up.

Just when I'm ready to unleash more, he suddenly softens. "I forgive you, Mariella," he says quietly, his voice calm and almost gentle.

I freeze, stunned by his words.

Wait... Did he just—? Was that it?

I narrow my eyes at him, unsure if I believe him. His expression remains steady, though, and I decide not to push my luck. "Good," I say, regaining my composure. "You're excused." My tone is sharp again, but the fire has dimmed slightly.

He chuckles softly, that smirk still lingering as he spins on his heel and walks away, leaving me there to stew in my own irritation.

****

I slip on my pink gloves, wrapping them snugly around my hands. With a quick flex of my fingers, I feel the familiar comfort of the padding. Finally. I step up to the punching bag, plant my feet, and throw my first punch. The bag bounces back slightly, the impact reverberating through my knuckles. A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips.

As I step back into my stance, I let my mind wander, and an image of Gio's smirking face flashes across my thoughts. My jaw tightens, and I can feel the irritation bubbling up again.

Perfect.

I swing again, this time harder, the sound of the impact echoing in the empty gym. I picture him taunting me, his smug smirk that makes me want to strangle him. My frustration fuels the next punch, a swift uppercut that sends the bag jolting on its chains.

The more I punch, the clearer his face becomes on the bag, and with every blow, I imagine wiping that arrogant smirk off his face. My movements grow sharper, faster. A jab, a hook, an uppercut—each hit stronger than the last. I pour all my anger and annoyance into the strikes, beads of sweat forming on my brow as I release the steam I've been holding in.

"Take that, you smug bastard," I mutter under my breath, throwing another hard right hook that makes the bag swing wildly. My breathing grows heavier, but it's satisfying. Every punch feels like shedding a layer of frustration, leaving me lighter and more focused.

When I finally step back, chest heaving, I run a hand over my forehead to brush away the sweat. I stare at the punching bag, now slightly tilted from the force of my hits, and grin.

If only he could see this.

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Hows everyone doing?

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Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡