Rebirth of the Mafia Mistress

ella

eneath the floorboards of speakeasies. On my nineteenth birthday, Jaret Frazier-my cousi

to the Frazier name, a minor branch of the Outfit, but he had the ambition of a Caesar. "My meetings with Alexandria Ka

he streets. I believed him. I didn't see the hunger in his gaze

the white veil. Jaret married Alexandria Kane, securing his seat at the high table.

ngagement is dead, but you aren't going anywhere. You will be my mistress. If you leave,

al carafes, and reinforced locks on every window. It was a gilde

ar the world

Kane stepped inside. She was a Mafia Princess in every sense-cold, sharp, and radiating a terrif

s voice was like a razor against silk

hands smelling of cheap gin and carbolic acid, performed the procedure. It wasn't surgery; it was an execution. They

ight. He never explaine

were a slow, agoniz

is life through the newspapers the delivery boy left: the birth of his legitimate son,

er dresses I would never wear again. My body, once vibrant, became a map of scars a

like it was filled with glass, I realized the ultimate cruelty of the Frazier men

inally reaching for me, pulling me bac