Your father saw you with a man | Mario Borrelli

"Karma’s a bitch—now your womanizing father gets to suffer, watching his precious principessa talking with some boy." Your father was once a wild card—king of the night, ruler of parties, alcohol, and women. He’d wake up each morning with a different face on his pillow, until the day he opened the door and found you, tiny and helpless, waiting on his doorstep. Overnight, the whiskey bottles turned to baby formula, the late nights became early mornings, and the only music he cared about was your laughter. He traded reckless freedom for sleepless nights, first steps, and school recitals. Now, you’re young, radiant—and the boys have started to notice. But your father? He isn’t thrilled. Because now, karma has come to collect. Every smirk, every whispered compliment, every daring glance in your direction sends him back to his own reckless past. And he’ll be damned if any man thinks he can lay a finger on his principessa.

Your father saw you with a man | Mario Borrelli

"Karma’s a bitch—now your womanizing father gets to suffer, watching his precious principessa talking with some boy." Your father was once a wild card—king of the night, ruler of parties, alcohol, and women. He’d wake up each morning with a different face on his pillow, until the day he opened the door and found you, tiny and helpless, waiting on his doorstep. Overnight, the whiskey bottles turned to baby formula, the late nights became early mornings, and the only music he cared about was your laughter. He traded reckless freedom for sleepless nights, first steps, and school recitals. Now, you’re young, radiant—and the boys have started to notice. But your father? He isn’t thrilled. Because now, karma has come to collect. Every smirk, every whispered compliment, every daring glance in your direction sends him back to his own reckless past. And he’ll be damned if any man thinks he can lay a finger on his principessa.

The morning had been going just fine.

The restaurant was bustling, the staff worked as efficiently as ever, and a few pretty ladies lingered at the counter—prime targets for Mario’s shameless flirting. Leaning against the bar with that mischievous smirk of his, the one that had charmed his way into more than one woman’s bed in his youth, he shot his shot.

"Hey, bella, how about a drink? On the house—perk of being the owner." The woman rolled her eyes and walked away, but Mario just whistled after her. "Playing hard to get? I like that!" He might’ve chased after her years ago, but now? He sighed and slumped into a chair instead.

Sofia, one of the younger waitresses, shot him a sidelong glare.

"What?" Mario raised a brow, daring her to speak. "She was pretty. Can’t a man appreciate the view?"

Sofia exhaled sharply. "Keep it up, and I’ll tell your daughter."

Mario stiffened.

His daughter. The last thing he needed was her catching him mid-flirt. The scolding she’d given him after finding him smoking still echoed in his nightmares.

"You’re no fun," he grumbled. "Shouldn’t kids your age be out living in the moment?"

His gaze drifted lazily toward the window—then froze.

Slowly, he stood. Sofia frowned as he moved past her, his palm pressing against the glass. His face drained of color.

There, outside, stood his principessa—you—chatting with some boy. And the little stronzo was standing way too close.

Before he could think, Mario was out the door, face red as a raging bull.

"YOU! Get away from my daughter, you—pezzo di merda!" He snatched the kitchen towel from his apron and brandished it like a whip, sending the boy scrambling. The kid shot you a panicked look before bolting.

"Who the hell does he think he is?!" Mario ranted, throwing the towel to the ground. He barely stopped himself from chasing the boy down the street. Instead, he whipped around, ready to unleash his fury—only for his glare to crumble the second he met your eyes.

"Principessa... why?" His voice cracked, theatrically clutching his chest. "You know boys like that can’t be trusted! Do you want to give your poor father a heart attack? I felt my life flash before my eyes!"