5 Mafia Brothers And Their Lost Princess Novels & Stories

"Luca. They’re targeting her now. This is step one. Next is her in that picture for real. In a body bag." "She’s under our protection." "Protection didn’t stop a guy with a gun in the west wing." I stand. "She’s not leaving." "Why?" Marco asks. "Because of the contract?" "Because of the contract," I lie. "Or because you saw what I saw?" "What did you see?" "That she doesn’t bow," Marco says. "And neither do we." We stare at each other. This is how it starts. Brothers vs brothers. Over a girl. Over pride.

“Why would your brothers do that?! Are they crazy?” Ralph chuckled coldly. “They weren’t the crazy ones—our father was. The old Mafia King.” I don’t recall seeing his portrait anywhere in the mansion, so I made a mental note to find a picture of him if I ever go back there. He tried to change the subject again and took a huge bite of the croissant. “Damn it, it’s flaky.” He spat and threw the pastry on the plate in disgust. I once read about this in a novel—a king who had three sons and pitted them against each other for the throne. But in reality, no one would be this cruel, would they?

Everything had been handed to her the entirety of her life, and Asheer highly doubted she originally got the modeling gig because of her talents. "Yes, there is a point to this phone call, mi amore." She said sweetly, "My father needs your expertise on a certain project he has been working on. He would call you himself, but I offered instead so he could keep working." She didn't need to state what was going on. While the two families are rivals, with their joining between Gwyneth and Asher, the prominent families had been leaning slightly on each other for a while now to combat rats. There was always a brave cop or two who wanted to try his hand at dethroning the mafia leaders.

Maria (Gigi's missing sister) I lay on the cold stone floor, the gold ritual bracelets clinking on my wrists almost hiding the gold handcuffs that changed me to the temple wall. As if making the chains gold made this more acceptable. I had known nothing when my father had married me off to Don Emillo Serrano' s brother. My father had mused that it was odd the Don hadn't taken me for a bride himself as the eldest daughter of the Angelito Mafia, the most powerful mafia in Northern America it made me Mafia royalty but he blamed my sister Giovanna who had fallen pregnant for destroying my worth. I hadn't cared either way my faith was sealed. Javier had initially seemed the kinder of the two brot

Forget space travel—explain the Tupperware phenomenon! Speaking of space, let’s imagine aliens. Not the scary, slimy kind, but the kind that lands here, looks around, and says, “You people pay money to watch other humans eat food online? You invented planes but still argue about pineapple on pizza? And you call your leader a Prime Minister even though they’re rarely first at anything?” The aliens would probably just leave, shaking their green heads in disbelief.

"I’m sorry, Aria." He kissed her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, desperate and wild. "I thought I was protecting you," he said. "I thought... I was wrong." She pulled back, searching his face. For the first time, she saw the cracks in his armor. Luciano Moretti — the brutal, unstoppable mafia king — was shaking. "I can't lose you," he whispered, cupping her face with bloodstained hands. "I can't." Aria’s heart cracked open.

The seed money from the drug run would be able to allow him a better life. Or perhaps a takeover event. Either way, I couldn't allow him to live. At least he'd failed in one regard. I'd been put on notice of his betrayal. Every rock I'd turned over, every favor called in had proven futile. If anyone could find him without issue, it would be a member of the Sons of Darkness. I rolled my eyes at the name, uncertain any longer which of the five of us had coined the phrase. We were the five princes of the most powerful mafia families within the United States, men capable of exacting revenge as necessary.

She smiled weakly, trying to hide the tears building in her eyes. “I’m twenty years old. I can handle myself,” she whispered. “I’m twenty-six,” I replied softly, “and I can handle anyone who hurts you. So talk.” She looked at me with a weak smile. Changing into a sad look. “I broke up with Brandon.” “Did he cheat on you?” I asked immediately. I should make sure to teach him a lesson. “No,” she shook her head. “He found out about our family’s real mafia business. It scared him, and he couldn’t handle it.”