The Mafia Don's Stylist

I jolted awake to the insistent blare of my alarm, the shrill sound slicing through the last remnants of sleep. With a groan of annoyance, I buried my face deeper into the softness of my pillow, clinging to the fading warmth of my dreams.

For a moment, I considered ignoring it.

But reality had never been patient with me.

With a reluctant sigh, I forced myself out of bed, leaving the comfort of my cocoon behind, and hurried into the bathroom. The cold touch of water against my skin chased away the drowsiness, and by the time I was done brushing my teeth and taking a quick, refreshing bath, I felt almost human again.

I dressed quickly and headed for the one place that always felt like home—Night Cafe.

Owned by Lilian and her husband, Greg, Night Cafe had a charm that no modern luxury could imitate. The space was small, almost modest, but it carried a warmth that wrapped around everyone who stepped inside. Soft amber lights glowed against dark wooden walls, the rich aroma of coffee beans and fresh pastries lingering in the air like a comforting embrace.

It was the kind of place where people forgot who they were outside those doors.

The wealthy sat beside the struggling, the powerful beside the ordinary, all of them stripped of titles and pretense over steaming cups of coffee and warm plates of food. Lilian and Greg had always refused the idea of lavish renovations. They said the soul of the cafe lived in its simplicity, and honestly, they were right.

The moment I stepped into the kitchen, the scent of butter and eggs greeted me.

“Good morning, Lilian,” I said brightly, wrapping my arms around her in a quick, affectionate hug.

She turned toward me, still stirring a pot of eggs, her blonde hair tied back loosely, her bright brown eyes shining with that youthful energy that never seemed to leave her.

“Good morning, my love,” she said warmly. “How was your night?”

“It was good,” I replied, glancing around the busy kitchen. “Where’s Greg? I thought he’d be here already.”

Her expression softened as she turned off the stove and began spooning the scrambled eggs onto a plate.

“He should be back by now. He stepped out to get some fresh coffee beans.”

I nodded, understanding, and stepped out of the kitchen just as Tom walked into the cafe carrying a couple of shopping bags.

A smile immediately touched my lips.

“Good morning, Tom” I greeted cheerfully out of habit, then laughed softly at myself.

Tom looked up at me and grinned, his grey eyes glistening with amusement.

“Morning, Ana.”

He dropped the bags onto a nearby table with a tired sigh.

“Tom, I’ve told you countless times not to carry such heavy things,” I said, frowning playfully.

He waved me off. “Yeah, yeah. I can already tell you’re on your way to the office, so let’s not keep the queen of fashion waiting.”

I paused for a moment, then nodded.

He was right.

I liked being early no matter where I went. It made me feel in control.

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Take care, and please tell Greg I’ll come over for dinner one of these days.”

“I’ll let him know.”

I kissed Tom lightly on the cheek before leaving the cafe.

The morning air was cool as I got into my car and drove straight to my office.

Even after everything, the sight of the building still did something to me.

It rose before me like a monument to every sleepless night, every sacrifice, every moment I had doubted myself.

Anastasia Designs.

The name was written boldly across the two-story building, elegant and impossible to miss.

Mine.

I had built this.

As I walked past the reception area, my employees greeted me warmly.

“Good morning, Miss Fisher.”

“Morning, ma’am.”

I acknowledged them with a smile, but I didn’t slow down as I headed for the elevator.

I loved my business fiercely, and everyone who worked for me knew one thing—I did not joke with my work.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, my assistant, Clara Brooks, rushed in breathlessly, her head lowered as if avoiding my eyes.

I sighed.

“Clara, you’re late again.”

My voice came out sharper than I intended.

She nervously twisted the hem of her black floral dress before looking up at me with wide brown eyes that made her look like a deer caught in headlights.

I liked Clara.

She was excellent at her job, but she had an unfortunate talent for chaos.

Her long black hair framed her face beautifully, and there was something bold about the way she carried herself, even in moments like this. She reminded me of the woman I had never been at her age—fearless, expressive, alive.

“I’m sorry, Miss Fisher. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

I studied her for a moment before giving a reluctant nod.

Work was my life.

Everyone in this building knew that friendship, closeness, or familiarity meant nothing once business began.

We rode the rest of the way in silence.

The moment we stepped onto my floor, the day swallowed me whole.

Meetings.

Schedule corrections.

Client calls.

Contract reviews.

It had been like this for days, and if I was being honest, the sudden rush of business still surprised me.

I took a sip of coffee and leaned back in my chair.

“Alright, what else do we have today?”

Clara glanced at her iPod.

“You have a meeting by eleven with Valentino, and Prada by two regarding your latest designs.”

A breath of relief escaped me.

“Okay. Set up the conference room and inform the staff. Some of our clients are extremely particular about what they want during coffee breaks, so everything needs to be perfect. Call me the moment they arrive.”

“Okay, ma’am.”

She turned to leave, but I stopped her.

For some strange reason, I was craving more caffeine.

“Clara, please get me another coffee.”

“Of course, Miss Fisher. Anything else?”

“Yes. Let Mia know I’d like to see her.”

Once she left, I returned to my laptop, replying to emails and reading through contracts.

A soft knock sounded against the door before it opened.

“Ana, seriously? You’re zoning out again. What’s wrong?”

Mia’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

She walked in carrying two cups of coffee and dropped one in front of me before taking the seat opposite mine.

I smiled warmly.

“Nothing much. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you as my best friend.”

She rolled her eyes, though a blush crept across her face.

“That’s disgustingly sweet. Why are you being emotional? You know I hate that stuff.”

I scrunched my nose in mock disgust.

“You should be grateful I’m in a good mood. Enjoy this because you won’t hear it from me again.”

She laughed softly.

I took another sip of my coffee.

“So, after the Prada meeting, what do you think we should do?”

Mia leaned forward, excitement flickering in her eyes.

“There’s this new club called Dream. It opened about a month ago, and apparently it’s incredible. What do you say?”

A grin spread across my face.

“It’s a date. We are getting drunk tonight.”

She burst into laughter, her perfect teeth flashing.

God, I had missed this.

“I miss this version of you,” Mia said softly. “Thank God she’s finally coming out again.”

I looked at her over the rim of my cup.

“She never went anywhere. I’ve just been busy. But I’m back, and we’re going to have a proper night out. Though I’m not promising tonight yet. I need to check my schedule. If not today, we’ll reschedule.”

“Anytime works for me. As long as you’re coming.” I smiled and we spent the next few hours working and chattering.

Then the atmosphere shifted.

The door opened again, and Clara stepped inside.

Something about the tension in her face immediately put me on edge.

“Miss Fisher…” she began, her voice unsteady. “There are clients here to see you.”

I frowned.

“Another client? I don’t remember scheduling anyone else today.”

The thought of my evening plans slipping through my fingers immediately irritated me.

Clara swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, but these clients are… important. Very important. They insisted on waiting.”

A strange feeling curled low in my stomach.

Not fear.

Not yet.

But something colder.

Something instinctive.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavier, darker, as if the shadows themselves had leaned closer to listen.

My fingers tightened around the warm coffee cup.

Whoever they were, they hadn’t come here by accident.

And something told me this meeting was about to change everything.