He Didn't Know I Was the Mafia Princess

I'm the daughter of Don Falcone.

After I got back from studying abroad, my family threw a welcome-home banquet, conveniently setting me up to meet the fiancé my father had handpicked for me—Santino Moretti.

My father praised the guy to the skies in his letters: he was the heir to the Moretti family, elegant, ruthless, drop-dead gorgeous, and holding half the city’s underground operations in the palm of his hand.

I arrived at the Elysium Hotel right on the dot.

Just as I was about to take a seat, a hand shoved me hard.

A woman's shrill voice pierced my ear.

"Livia, what's a Sicilian peasant like you doing here? This is the Imperial Suite. Do you think you even deserve to breathe the air in a place like this?"

I recognized the woman. It was Bella, a bitch who had always had it out for me back in college. She was clearly trying to humiliate me.

Instead of getting mad, I smirked.

"Whether I deserve to be here or not—is that for you to decide?"

Bella sneered, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm Mr. Santino's personal assistant. Today, Mr. Santino is hosting the eldest daughter of the Falcone family here. This isn't an occasion for bottom-feeding trash like you."

"Be smart and crawl back to your slum."

I pulled out my phone and dialed my so-called fiancé.

I wanted to ask him if it was a tradition in the Moretti family to let their dogs bark at the front door.

The phone rang for a long time before it was picked up.

"I'm busy. Don't bother me unless it's important," Santino's impatient voice came through the receiver.

I froze for a second, staring at my phone.

Was this the "elegant gentleman" the Don had talked about?

I swallowed my temper.

"Santino, your assistant is acting like a rabid dog, kicking people out at the door. Is this the Moretti family's way of treating guests?"

"Even though we haven't officially met, as your fiancée, I think you'd better come out and explain..."

Beep—beep—

He hung up.

If it weren't out of respect for my father, I would've shoved this phone right down his throat.

What century are we in? Who still does arranged marriages?

But before I came, my father threatened me with the family's honor, forcing me to show up.

I originally planned to cancel the engagement to his face if it wasn't a good match.

I didn't expect this bastard wouldn't even give me the chance to meet him.

Seeing this, Bella laughed hysterically.

"Oh, so you're the legendary 'fiancée' straight out of Sicily?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk! Talk about delusions of grandeur. Why don't you take a look in the mirror? Are you even worthy of Mr. Santino?"

I was so angry I actually laughed. I pulled out a chair beside me, sat down, and casually picked up a delicate piece of tiramisu.

"Then tell me, how exactly am I not worthy?"

I said, slowly taking a