Marina’s POV

The moment I stepped inside, I collapsed on my bed. Today had drained every ounce of me. All I wanted was a refreshing shower and a good meal.

The thought of cooking myself made me groan. For days, I’d been ordering takeout like a lazy heiress.

Not good, Marina.

I dragged myself to the closet, unclasped my diamond jewelry, and slipped out of my outfit.

Minutes later, warm water cascaded over me in the jacuzzi, soothing every muscle. I closed my eyes with a sigh. Perfect. But I knew I couldn’t stay too long—I still had to cook.

After thirty indulgent minutes, I stepped out, headed straight for my vanity, and started my skincare ritual. My skin had to remain flawless. Always.

Silk pajamas clung to my skin as I padded toward the kitchen.

Chef Marina, at your service.

I opened the fridge, grabbed chilled mango juice, and savored a sip before cooking. Soon, the aroma of my dish filled the apartment, making my stomach growl louder than I’d like to admit.

Smart, beautiful, and a wonder in the kitchen. I was blessed.

I set my plate on the table, turned on the TV, and was just about to take the first bite when the doorbell rang.

My brows knit together.

Who could that be?

I rose and opened the door without hesitation.

Margherita.

What on earth was she doing here?

“Hi, beauty,” she said with the sweetest smile.

I couldn’t help but smile back. “Hello, Margherita. How can I help you?”

“I… I want to know you more. And if possible, spend the night.” Her voice trembled with hesitation.

Was she serious?

Excited as I was, I decided to play it cool. I crossed my arms, letting the silence stretch. She fidgeted, her unease almost adorable.

Finally, I gave in. “Please, come in. I was just kidding.” I stepped aside.

“Phew, you almost scared me,” she said, pressing a hand dramatically to her heart as she walked in.

I laughed softly, closing the door behind her.

“Mmm, something smells delicious,” she said, her eyes landing on the food.

“Sit. I’ll get you some.”

“That would be great.”

Minutes later, I handed her a steaming plate of pasta.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a bite. Her eyes widened instantly. “Oh my God, this is good!”

I smiled, pleased. “Thank you.”

“I could seriously use lots of help from you,” she teased, and we both chuckled.

When dinner was done, she insisted on helping with the dishes. The dishwasher made it quick, and soon we were back on the couch, side by side, the TV playing in the background.

“Tell me about you, beauty,” she said suddenly, pulling my full attention.

“Okay, why not.”

She shifted, sitting upright, her eyes fixed on me as if I were about to tell the most captivating story.

“I’m Marina, as you already know. Fourth of five siblings. My parents divorced when I was young—it hurt at first, but I learned to live with it. I’m from Colombia, and I flew in two weeks ago to study law. I own Reine—”

“Wait.” She cut me off, her eyes widening. “You own Reine? The brand?”

Her shock didn’t surprise me. My identity was always carefully hidden.

“Yes,” I admitted calmly. “I started it when I was seventeen. I have three older brothers—Eric, a trillionaire tycoon, happily married with three kids. Adam, also a trillionaire businessman, married with two kids. And Duke, a billionaire engineer. Still very single.”

Her jaw practically dropped. “Wait—Duke is your brother? The engineer? Oh my God, beauty, what else are you hiding?”

I chuckled. “You’re funny. As I said, I’m the fourth. A millionaire for now, but I’ll be a trillionaire soon. And I will.”

“Amen,” she said playfully.

“I’m the CEO of Reine. I’m studying criminal law, just bought ten acres of land to build my firm. Relationship status: single. That’s me. Now you.”

She blinked, stunned. “Ten acres? Girl, who are you—and how old are you?”

“I’ll be nineteen soon.”

Her scream nearly deafened me. “Nineteen?! You’re just a baby!”

“A grown one,” I smirked, and we both laughed.

“Oh, and the fifth is my little sister, Rose. Still in school.”

“That was beautiful,” she said softly. “Your family seems… fun. And so wealthy.”

“Thank you. Now it’s your turn.”

She leaned back, grinning. “I’m Margherita, the third of four siblings. I’m twenty, Italian, and yes—my parents are still married. The first is Massimo, a trillionaire Mafia mogul. Very handsome.”

Mafia?

My smile faltered. Was she serious?

“I know you’re surprised,” she continued. “But yes, my family’s into the Mafia. The whole of Italy fears us. Massimo inherited it from my dad. But trust me, we’re good people. Just… a little evil with enemies.”

A little? That didn’t sound convincing.

She went on. “Second is my sister Camilla, a stunning model married to Lorenzo. They have a cute little boy. Massimo is still single, though.”

We both laughed.

“I’m the third. Just started university, still figuring life out. The last is Adriano, a teenager. That’s us.”

“Incredible,” I whispered. “I never thought I’d meet someone from the Mafia. I’m also a writer. I include Mafia stories a lot—you know, dark romance.”

Her eyes lit up. “You love dark romance too? Girl, we’re soulmates!”

“Yes, soulmates indeed.”

We laughed, poured more juice, and snacked on popcorn while the movie played on.

And just like that, I realized—

I had finally found my person.

My best friend.

---