The Mafia Boss's Assistant

Chapter Eight Alessandro’s POV

“What the hell was that, Ale?”

My father’s voice thundered off the walls of my villa. He combed his fingers through his hair, eyes flashing.

“I didn’t say a word in there because of f*****g snakes like Antonio. I meant it when I said I want them to respect. Then, you get up and do s**t like that? You hired her?”

“We hire people all the time, Papa.” I leaned against the edge of the console table, my drink in hand, watching him pace like a caged animal. “She’s a personal assistant, not a threat.”

“She eavesdrops for minute, stumbles into the room looking innocent, and she’s not harmless, Alessandro. Wake up.”

“I am awake and I’m telling you that girl is as clueless as the word itself. Why the f**k are we overreacting over a novice that missed her way to an interview?”

He scoffed. “You’re too trusting.”

I chuckled, bitterly. “No one has ever accused me of that before.”

“You’re letting her in.” He stopped pacing, facing me fully now. “Soon, she’ll be inside your house three-four times this week. She’ll know your calendar, your passwords, your schedule. That’s more than most of my men know.”

I pushed off the table, slowly circling him. “You’re being paranoid, Papa. She’s just a girl. What she’ll be is efficient. She’ll keep to herself and won’t pry unless it’s about work. I’ll make sure of it.”

He exhaled. “Fine. Do what you want. You always do.” His eyes darkened as he stepped closer. “But don’t let your guard down around her. Quiet innocent-looking women like that are more dangerous than you know.”

I smirked, lifting the glass to my lips. “Is that from experience, Papa?”

He ignored the jab, adjusting his cuff like it was more important than this entire conversation.

“Sometimes you are reckless. Back in that meeting, I covered your ass. You think you’re above tradition just because you’ve got the Morano name inked in gold?”

I met his glare without flinching. “No. But you and I know I’m not really interested in marrying Marcella.”

My father wasn’t pleased but he waved that off like it was a gnat.

“You don’t need to be interested, Ale. You need to be married. That’s the custom. You really want to lead anything in this family, you wear the f*****g ring.”

I turned to the window, staring out at San Francisco’s night’s sky. Beautiful and cold, like the life I was born into.

The Morano name didn’t just open doors. It chained me to them. My whole life, I was a prince born into blood and duty. I learned everything I needed to know; loyalty, brutality, control. I knew how to make men vanish or beg. But I never learned to want what they wanted for me.

Marcella was part of the deal. Beautiful, sexy even. I didn’t hate her. I just didn’t want her, or anyone else to be a wife.

But that didn’t matter in this world. Nothing ever really did, except the family.

I turned back to him. “You and Moretti’s set this up, so I’ll leave you to handle the designs for the cake.”

He nodded once. “That works for me.”

He left without saying goodbye and I watched the door click shut behind him, then grabbed my phone off the counter.

I opened her thread, my assistant. The girl my father didn’t trust. The girl that blatantly said, “You’re not the CEO,” to my face.

She didn’t look like it, but she had guts beneath that naïve exterior.

I focused on the phone and typed:

Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. Sleep well tonight, because tomorrow you won’t be getting any.

I hit send and stared at the message.

Let’s see just how harmless she really is.