Angelica’s POV:
Autumn walk in the salon like an ancient princess except without a kimono.
Someone help her take off the large black coat and take it to the back. It’s weird, seeing the yakuza’s wife dress in regular clothes, consisting of a white t-shirt tuck inside her vanilla pants. She sat down beside me, and immediately, they start pampering her.
“Angelica,” she said, closing her eyes as the stylist began his job.
“Autumn,” I’m not afraid of using her first name either. I am the wife of the Italian mafia; I shouldn’t quiver or bow down to another powerful person’s wife.
Vivian looks at us before lifting the magazine to cover her face. I have a feeling she does not want to intervene whatever it is between Angelica and me.
“How is the husband?” Autumn asks.
“Fair,” but i
