Gaia Azzaro
I was the mafia princess of the Camorra but only in the eyes of the world. There was never anything special about me, except for my top of the world flaws. I was invisible my whole life until the Brigadier (Capo) of the Russian Bratva se...
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A low groan escaped as I tried to flip my position. I could count the small bones on my spine as they slowly unlocked. I held my breath afraid of breaking my spine. I knew deserved this pain, I had seen it coming but ignored the signs when I started to feel a slight irritation in my thumb when my arms started to feel numb. numbness is common during periods for me, whenever I get them in 2-3 months but this becoming more common these days, perhaps I am anemic. I shamelessly swapped my iPad onto the other hand and kept on scrolling. Tiktok became the bane of my existence for the past year. My iPad's battery drained out and the screen went black. The black mirror showed me how pathetic I looked. Being a master of procrastination I shoved the phone aside and confiscated the bedside table for magazines.
Bored out of my wits, I was flipping through the pages of the magazine, reading it from the last page first. Some pop star was grovelling about her drug issues as if someone had shoved it down her veins forcefully. The biggest reason I don't feel any ounce of regret for enjoying my luxurious life as the mafia princess.
Drugs are bad, it ruins life. Yet they accept it willingly, especially when they come to Las Vegas. The sin city where every saint comes to become a sinner for the weekend because what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
A girl would only need to dress in shiny clothes and go out. The party will come to her. Not me. Nobody would ever like to pick me if I ever get the chance to test the theory myself. Being the mafia princess of the Camorra, I have to act a certain way. For my safety and the name of my family, the Camorra that rules over the majority of Las Vegas. I don't have to think about what my family would think anymore, but I prefer my safety over a wild night with a stranger.
I threw the magazine in frustration. It flew to the other end of the room. I had possibly watched everything the streaming services offered when I had injured my leg and also ordered a shitload of stuff from the telemarketers. There was nothing left to watch... or order.
I rummage for my phone under the blanket it was tangled in and throw a text to Carina so we can have a sleepover. The text didn't send. I frowned to see the Wi-Fi hadn't been working. I called her number. It rang, but she didn't receive it. Presuming that Valerius had come home early, I dropped the idea and flung my long legs out of the comforter. Lazily scratching the back of my neck, I peered at my toned legs. The stretch marks were there and the fat, but it was better now. I was gradually losing weight with Carina's help. If it weren't for the accident last year and her guidance, I would have been on the brink of obesity now by being on bed rest.
Slipping on a terry robe over my rompers, I walked to the balcony instead. The cold breeze trickled on my face. I tied the robe tightly around my waist and hugged myself. Inhaling the fresh air, I close my eyes, taking in the calmness.
But something I didn't feel right. The Bullmastiff dogs Valerius has planted are always alert. One passes the baton to bark and the other one begins, like an endless cycle of mindfuckery. Sometimes it almost turns into a white noise for me.
