The Don’s Obedient Doll Was Never Real

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious.

Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild.

But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took.

At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses.

I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted.

Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South.

That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna."

I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian.

"Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title."

"You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this."

That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back.

I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him.

My family had already chosen a husband for me.

They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious.

Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild.

But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took.

At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses.

I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted.

Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South.

That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna."

I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian.

"Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title."

"You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this."

That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back.

I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him.

My family had already chosen a husband for me.

They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

...

The night Rocco was crowned Don, he pinned me to the bed and took me with a rough hunger,