The Mafia Boss' Betrayal

Psychological Warfare

Gia POV

She never thought she’d say this…but Gia loved Aubriella.

That’s right, you heard correct.

Aubriella’s constant disrespect and classless sass had reminded Gia of who she used to be—and oh did she enjoy letting that side of her come out.

Leo? Not so much. And the best part of it was that he didn’t dare to punish her in front of Aubriella during the day—nor did her come to Luca’s room, where she was still staying, to argue with her.

It was clear that it was getting to him—he was reaching his boiling point—and Gia was here for the show.

“Make it clean. No survivors,” He snapped into his phone, before putting it back into his pocket. Gia had overheard while walking past his office.

“Amore,” Leo’s sickly sweet voice called out. Gia stopped in her tracks—a smug smirk tugging at her lips.

“Were you calling for me?” she asked sweetly, popping her head into the office.

“Yes, of course I was, who else would I be calling?” she could hear the edge in his voice.

“You know,” Gia stated, “Aubriella…”

“Amore, don’t be ridiculous. You’re my amore. She’s just baby. I call everyone baby.” He said, gesturing for her to come closer. Gia decided to humor him—it would work in her favor for what she had planned for the business gala they needed to go to tonight.

Honestly, she was sick of these parties and Gala’s. It felt as though that was all she ever did these days.

Once she was in arm’s reach, Leo took her wrist and pulled her into his lap. He put his arms around her and placed his face against hers. “ I miss you,” he whispered. Gia smiled softly—carefully containing her facial expression.

“I know. But you’re always busy now…and don’t have time for me.” She sighed. She knew exactly what he was doing. He was losing her, and he could feel it too. Instead of being angry at her for her smart mouth, he was trying to pull her back in with softness—but it wasn’t going to work this time. And he would soon learn.

“How about we go on a vacation. Just the two of us?”

“But what about Luca?” Gia asked, playing with his cufflink.

“He can stay here with Aubriella,” Leo offered. That snapped her out of her façade quickly, and her face morphed into anger.

“I will not be leaving my son with a woman who can’t even take care of herself,” she snaped, trying to push out of his arms, but he held on tightly.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he smiled, shaking his head as though realizing he’d said something ridiculous—which he had.

“How about with your parents? Hmm,” Leo hummed, softly kissing his way down her neck. Gia closed her eyes, pretending to enjoy his touch, when really she was trying not to get sick.

“I would say… let’s—”

“Leo! Leo!” Aubriella’s frantic voice sounded from the hallway, her footsteps coming closer. She pushed her way into his office without even knocking. She could feel Leo tensing beneath her.

“Leo—what the—? What are you doing?” Aubriella’s eyes blazed with fury.

“Having a moment with my wife,” Leo’s voice turned colder with each syllable. Aubriella must have picked up on that too, because her bottom lip began to tremble.

“Now, now, Leo, don’t be angry. The girl is hormonal—she needs you right now. Isn’t that right dear?” Gia gushed. Aubriella’s teared eyes instantly cleared up as she stared at Gia with surprise.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I came here to ask you what you were planning on wearing tonight, so I can match my outfit to yours.” Aubriella asked.

“What? What do you mean?” Leo asked.

“For the Gala tonight?” Aubriella said, in a ‘duh’ kind of way. Oh, this girl was so disrespectful it was delicious.

“Who told you about that?” Leo asked, his eyes darting to Gia. She could see the wheels in his head turning.

“Oh, I must have accidentally mentioned it in passing…” Gia shrugged apologetically. But she was anything but. Leo’s eyes darkened with anger.

“You don’t need a dress, because you’re not going,” he snapped at Aubriella. She instantly started crying—like a toddler having a tantrum.

“Leo, don’t be cruel. Look at her, she clearly wants to feel included. She’s pregnant—shouldn’t she feel like family?” Gia gave Leo—who was now fuming on the inside—a pointed look.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at his wife. What was she up to? He started weighing his options. He couldn’t come home to a whining pregnant woman. The press wouldn’t be inside. It was all about appearances—and Gia still made the better impression. So she could be on his arm when they went in, and once inside, he could flaunt Aubriella. It might just be perfect.

“Fine.” Leo clipped, “You can come. But only if you trail behind us at a distance until we’re inside.”

—

Gia waited until she was alone in her room before unzipping the garment bag.

The dress she had chosen for tonight wasn’t her usual style—not the modest, elegant silhouettes Leo had once preferred, nor the skimpy numbers he’d been pressuring her to wear lately. No. This was something else entirely.

It was sleek, black, and satin. Long-sleeved, high neckline… but with a scandalous thigh-high slit that climbed all the way up one side. The back dipped low, exposing the smooth expanse of her spine, and when she walked—it clung to her body like it was made for her. It was bold. Sophisticated. Sexy without begging for attention.

It was power, stitched in fabric.

She hated dressing like this for Leo. Hated giving him the satisfaction of objectifying her. But tonight wasn’t for him.

It was for her.

She pulled on the dress, swept her hair into soft, glamorous waves, and painted her lips with a deep red she hadn’t worn in years. Not since the old Gia—the fearless Gia—had lived and breathed behind her eyes.

She smiled at her reflection. Let the games begin.

—

The car ride was torture.

Not for Gia—but for everyone else.

Aubriella was sobbing about her hair the entire drive.

“They used the wrong serum,” she wailed, fanning herself with her hands. “It’s frizzy! I can’t go to a gala like this! I look like I belong in a soup kitchen!”

Gia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Leo sat stiffly beside her in the back seat, his jaw tight as he stared out the window like he might jump from it at any second.

Gia, however, sat poised and radiant—legs crossed, red nails tracing the curve of her champagne flute.

Leo finally snapped.

“Would you shut up about your hair?” he growled at Aubriella. “You look fine. Gia looks better—but that’s not hard.”

Aubriella gasped and crossed her arms, sniffling dramatically. “I hate you.”

Gia let out a small laugh, swirling the champagne in her glass.

Leo didn’t respond. He just grunted.

When they arrived at the gala, photographers were lined along the entrance. The event was private—held in a grand estate owned by one of the wealthiest Mafia families in Milan—but there were still cameras for society pages, online magazines, and the Mafia elite’s own brand of PR.

“Stick by my side,” Leo muttered, looping Gia’s arm through his.

She smiled sweetly. “Of course, darling.”

Aubriella tried to follow closely behind, but Leo turned and snapped, “Back off. Stay a few steps behind. It’s for the cameras.”

“But—” she started.

Gia looked over her shoulder, giving the younger woman a feigned pitying smile. “You’ll get your turn, sweetheart.”

Then she turned forward again, posing as the cameras clicked.

Flashes went off. Questions were shouted. Gia tilted her chin up and smiled like she ruled the world.

Because tonight, she did.

And once they entered the ballroom, Leo wasted no time. As soon as the press disappeared behind closed doors, he disentangled himself from Gia and strode toward his business partners—Aubriella trailing behind like a child chasing a balloon.

Gia peeled off her coat, revealing the full glory of the dress underneath.

Heads turned. Murmurs spread. Even a few of the other Mafiosi—men and women alike—gave her long, appraising stares.

Gia smiled to herself, took a flute of champagne from a passing tray, and walked straight into the crowd—leaving Leo and his drama far behind.

Let them see.

Let them all see exactly what he was about to lose.