Mafia's Accidental Bride

oden counter. The air vibrated with the rhythmic thwack of Nadia's whisk against a

edible masterpieces. The aroma of cinnamon and cloves hung heavy, a comforting fragrance th

cian who transformed simple ingredients into edible works of art. Her bakery was he

erate movements. The rhythmic kneading of the dough, the gentle whoosh of the oven, the cli

passion and artistry. It was a testament to her resilience, a sweet victory built on grit and a love for all things sugar. Orphaned young, Nadia had clawed her way up, turning her childhood comfort food int

ine left behind by a customer. Usually, she avoided such publications, finding their preoccupation with the rich and glamorous frivolous in comparison to the simple

d it depicted was everything Flour & Fancy wasn't – cold, calculating, and consumed by violence. A world she found abhorrent. Nadia skimmed through the photos, sc

iffon cake. Instead, a young woman with nervous energy practically vibrated in the doorway. Her carefully styled hair and des

oman stammered, clutching

. "Yes, that's me. Can I

barely a whisper. "This came for you? I mean, for

t read in elegant calligraphy, addressed to a grand estate on the outskirts of town. A shiver danced

taken identity," Nadia

lieved. "Probably.

ons to the city's powerful mafia families. Intrigue battled with caution in Nadia's mind. The baker in her, the one who craved new experiences, who found inspiration in

ly said, "Curiosi

t sparked in her eyes. "Just a peek," she murmured, a small sm

estate, so different from her own, beckoned with a strange allure. Little did Nadia know, that one peek would be the first step