Milan, Italy - Months ago.
The moon spilled silver across Isabella's skin as she stood on the penthouse balcony, the silk robe clinging to her like a secret. Below, the city was pulsing - wine, smoke, music. Behind her, he slept. Or pretended to.
Daniel was long gone. But this man - Sinclair - was danger wrapped in refinement. British-Italian. A devil with manners.
That night, he didn't ask her name. He demanded her truth.
That night, she didn't resist. She devoured him.
It wasn't sex. It was war.
He had pinned her to the edge of the glass railing, kissed her like he knew she lied for a living. She clawed his back like she needed a new sin to bury the old ones.
But when he whispered afterward, "Did you think I wouldn't recognize you?"
- she smiled. Mask on. Game live.
She left before sunrise. But not before planting a bug in his safe.
Or so she thought.
---
Milan Comm Hub (Present)
> "What's your name?" Isabella asked, pacing like a panther.
> "Luca! I told you already-"
She backhanded him. Not violently. Precisely. Controlled.
> "Luca. You opened the signal gate for Sinclair. Which means you're the last weak link."
Ali leaned against the wall, silent.
> "There's a data trail," Luca stammered. "He knew you'd come. Said-said the lioness always returns to the kill."
Isabella's heart stuttered.
> "Did he mention Naples?"
> "Yes! A vault. One you'd recognize. 'Same door, different key.' That's what he said."
She exchanged a glance with Ali.
> "I know where he means."
> "What do we do with him?" Ali asked.
Isabella crouched, staring into Luca's eyes.
> "You disappear."
> "W-What?"
> "If you scream again, I'll take your tongue. But if you stay quiet, maybe you'll see morning."
She stood. No hesitation. No emotion.
---
Naples Estate
Sinclair stood shirtless on the balcony of his Naples villa, cigarette burning between his fingers. The Mediterranean air licked his skin.
He wasn't afraid of Isabella Hughes. He was obsessed with her.
The moment she walked into that ballroom months ago - red dress, killer smile, poison in her eyes - he knew.
Not the name. Not the lie.
But the woman.
She was death in heels. He was the fool who wanted to kiss it.
He had let her go that night. Not because she tricked him.
Because he wanted her to return.
He tapped the encrypted burner beside his whiskey.
> "La Moraleja to Naples. ETA 12 hours."
Perfect.
He smirked.
> "Let the queen hunt."
---
Naples
The jet landed in silence. No logos. No records.
Ali handed Isabella the burner with new intel as the SUV rolled down the private tarmac.
> "Vault is under the south wing of the villa. Deep biometric access. Guess what's on file?"
> "My fingerprint," Isabella said, smirking darkly.
They were dressed to kill. Literal.
Inside the SUV, Isabella slid on her gloves.
Her mind wasn't just on Sinclair anymore.
It was on the truth.
> "Why Naples?" Ali asked.
> "Because that's where I left part of myself behind."
> "And Sinclair?"
> "He's either the man who lied to me-" Isabella cocked her gun, "-or the man who never got to tell the truth."
---
YOU ARE READING
MAFIA QUEEN
Short StoryAfter the 3 sentries she is born, the only girl in the family. But they are not the ordinary people they are famous Italian Mafia. THE FERRARI FAMILY But they lost her because of the work they are in and because of their reputation. ************...
