Novels by Alberto

The private warehouse sat like a forgotten secret at the edge of the city—a damp, hollow shell that used to be a car park. Now it was nothing but rusted scrap metal, burnt-out cars, and the stale smell of oil clinging to the air. The kind of place no one came to unless they had something to hide.Or someone.My boys were already there, dressed in black, forming a quiet wall around the man tied to a chair in the center of the room.The thief.I slammed my car door shut and walked toward them. My footsteps echoed through the empty space. When I got closer, I finally saw his face—bloody, swollen, the result of a few light punches from my men.Light by our standards, anyway.I stared at him, feeling the anger rise slowly in my chest.“I gave you work,” I said calmly.“Protection.”“Money.”I adjusted my cufflinks, taking my time.“And you still thought you could cheat me.”The man started begging immediately. His voice was hoarse, broken, carrying the desperate tone of someone who already

Nat hadn’t spent long in his office before the call came in from the mayor himself. A summons.That alone was enough to make him uneasy. Nat wasn’t paranoid by nature, but the mayor never called him. It was always the other way around. Nat called the mayor. So if the mayor was calling now, it meant something urgent—something serious.Mayor Evan was a bald man of medium height with fleshy lips and a sly smile that never quite left his face. He looked like a man to whom one particular word was very familiar: cheat. There was something about his bad-boy mannerisms, that careless confidence, and the undeniable sex appeal he still carried even in his age.He was on his third divorce now and had recently settled for a young trophy wife from Venezuela.Nat almost laughed at the thought. So this was the kind of family his mother once wanted him to marry into.The mayor’s residence was a tour de force of a mansion. It rose from stone like a monument to excess. The king-length driveway stretche

Zara sat cross-legged on a mat in the living room, deep in a yoga position. Her Bluetooth speaker filled the house with the soft sounds of meditation. A calm instructor’s voice sounding distinctly Indian, floated through the room.“Fifteen-minute yoga meditation…”Her hands were pressed together in devotion.Nat stared at her longer than he realized. He sat at the dining table, sipping his coffee while flipping through the morning newspaper.The house was still full of balloons, bright ones tied to chairs, railings, and even the stair banister. Zara had insisted they stay up.“To serve as decor for the soon-coming party,” she had said.What party again, may I ask? Nat had replied.“We’ll see,” she had told him with a mysterious smile. “It will unravel.”Now his eyes scanned the newspaper. Headlines screamed about Iranian bombings in Dubai, while the stocks section brought worse news—Wolfe Group’s shares were dipping again.His jaw tightened.He sighed and took another sip of coffee, h

Alicia stood at the entrance.Tall. Poised. Dressed in a sleek green gown that hugged her frame, high heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Her eyes were hidden behind dark shades.Slowly, she removed them.Then she smiled.“Happy gender reveal,” she said calmly, extending a bouquet of flowers toward Zara.Zara froze.“If you mean—?”Before she could finish, Nat stepped up behind her, gently patting her shoulders as if to steady a storm.The sight of Alicia was triggering.Thankfully, the guests were still busy dancing and celebrating, their attention elsewhere. Only Isla seemed to have noticed something unusual from across the room.Nat tightened his hold on Zara.“Let’s go,” he murmured. “Easy. You don’t want to make another scene.”He shot Alicia a thick, accusing glare.“Why would you even come here?”“It’s not what you think,” Alicia replied softly. “I come in peace.”“Peace?” Nat scoffed. “Peace out.”“Zara, let’s go.”He guided her away from the crowd into a small ant

They went to the pastry shop Isla had recommended.“They’re the best in the city,” she had said confidently.The pastry shop had a very simple, almost bland name: Sweets.Inside, a man in a red T-shirt and a face cap stood behind the counter attending to customers. When it was their turn, Isla stepped forward.“We need a sex cake,” she said bluntly.The man blinked, then burst into laughter.“A sex cake?” he repeated, grinning widely.“Yes,” Isla said, completely serious. “You can do that, right?”“Yeah… sure,” he said, still laughing like he had just heard the funniest thing all morning. “Sex cake.”He seemed to enjoy repeating the words.“So… do you want it with the male or female organs?” he asked casually.Zara frowned, confused.Then it clicked.Her eyes widened.The man leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice like he was offering something special.“We could make it however you want,” he said with a wink. “Simple sex cake… naughty… super naughty.”He quickly showed them a p

They went to Macy’s Hair Salon in downtown Manhattan. The place was buzzing with people. Attachments for braids hung neatly along the walls, and inside glass cupboards were wigs perched on mannequin heads. On the tables in front of the seats where Zara and Jean sat were relaxers, creams, hair butters, and conditioners of every kind.It was warm inside, comfortably warm compared to the biting cold outside. Beyond the glass doors, the wind carried an icy edge that hinted snow would soon fall.“What would you like today?” Zara was asked by Miriam, the owner of the salon.Miriam was plump and chocolate-skinned. She wore dark pencil lining on her lips and a short brown wig. Her black T-shirt had the inscription I ❤️ Florida printed boldly across it.“I want braids,” Zara replied. “Long ones… and make the tips curly.”“Alright. What color?”“Gold.”“Gold it is.” Miriam nodded and waved one of the girls over. “Tasha, take care of her.”Isla decided to buy a wig, but first she had her hair wa