Novel & Cerita Cerita Mafia

King and continued looking at him in his eyes " My girlfriend too whom I love the most." Mr. King raised his eyebrows looking at Ashton. Ashton laughed and said putting his hand on Mr. King shoulder " Dad now don't say that line of yours……… What it was?? " he was thinking and then looked at Ethan and asked " What it was?? " Ethan looked down and said while scratching the back of his neck " Mafia don't have girlfriends. They don't made for dating ". Mr. King walked towards Ethan and put his hand on Ethan shoulder and said " Ashton he also have a girlfriend. Right?? "

“What? Did you think an old kind man just happened to live on the family's premises without being a member? Mr. Johnson, or big Johnsy as we call him, started as an errand boy when he was fourteen. When he hit thirty he had climbed up to collector and by fifty he was working as a manager of our brothels. That was before he got sick.” I stare down at my plate in disgust. Sure I figured that even Mr. Johnson had something to do with all this mafia stuff, but I was hoping he was a gardener or something. “You should make a habit of recognizing everyone here for what they are. Either they have been whores, errand boys, collectors or cleaners, as we call them. Some are related to members or marrie

I sang "Savage love" I sang and did the step. After some hours. Im fucking tired. I have been driving for 4 hours and now I have reached Lia café. I parked my Car and hopped out of it. I made my way in, smell of coffee calm me. "Mr kartz is waiting for you" I jumped when somebody said behind. "You scared me" I clutching my chest. "Sorry miss" she said "Its okay" I said and went to the booth.

In Manhattan Mental Health Hospital A woman could be seen lying on the bed. She was chained to the bed. She was thrashing continuously on the bed, screaming at the top of her voice. Lucia's heart reached out to her best friend. She felt the tears leave her eyes. Her best friend was going through all this because of some unknown bastard. She still couldn't understand why someone would want to get his revenge on Gianluca and why. Truth be told, he was in the mafia, but as far as she knows, Gianluca Martelli only punished offenders.

I turn to leave, but he stops me. “Mellisia. Are you thinking straight?” He leans closer to me. “Are you really going to give yourself up just for a chance to get back at me? Living with the same people who put you through that horrible experience just to see me get roughed up? Or are you going to forget everything that happened for a few bucks?” My blood chills at what he said. “The Rafe family did nothing to me.” I mutter. “They are the same, Mel. The mafia is the mafia. Who knows, Rio may decide your pussy isn’t worth the money he offered you and decide to put you back on the –“

I explained as I sat down on the bed, while Klarissa walked over to the opposite side. "The Mafia business is a heartless venture.You should be aware that Mafia lords are willing to sell out their daughters just to protect their sons because they see them as a more valuable asset," Klarissa revealed. There was no denying anything she had spoken about because my father did not seem bothered about the consequences that could come with losing his daughter. "If only there was a way out of this..." I paused because an idea just popped up in my mind. "..or maybe there is one good idea," I added, smiling in the direction of Klarissa.

it grew from bad to worse when I was kidnapped by a mafia leader. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The estate includes a landscaped courtyard for tastings and gatherings. Whispers and rumors about the Russo family circulate in the wine world. I’ve heard crazy things—claims of immense wealth, ruthless tactics to stay at the top, raising their young to be bloodthirsty monsters, involvement in kinky sex, and even the curious rumor that the men spank their women. Despite their criminal ties, my business _ my money. The undertakers have a strong sense of morals, a mysterious brotherhood with a code that involves using their underground businesses to take from the rich and give to the poor.

"And?" "And something about what the report said—" he stopped. Started again. "You were studying literature. Working in a bookshop. Living in a flat with two other students. Completely removed from your uncle's world — no knowledge of his debts, no involvement in any of it." He looked at the folder. "You were entirely clean." "Clean," I repeated. "Untouched by any of it," he said. "That's rare, in the circles I operate in. People are usually connected, compromised, aware. You were none of those things."

Chiara Moretti Alessandro stared down at me, his jaw tight. "You say that now," he said, and took a step toward me. "But you do not understand what you are asking for, Chiara. The mafia world is not a boardroom. It is not about signing papers or making smart investments. It is a world built on blood, loyalty, and extreme violence. It is filled with people who will not hesitate to cut your throat just to send a message."