Del Cano Novels & Stories

Camilla began as she grace Maximo with her attention " Should we all lay low and cancel the funeral memorial journey? " For a long time Maximo Santino didn't reply and everyone dare not speak. He heave a long sigh, battling with his heart and Brain. His hardest decision in sending away the first woman he has love into the jaw of death and humiliation. The image of Delphine still hung in his head, filling him with unexplainable pain and guilt. Slowly he get on his feet and began to pace. All eyes were on him as they stay still, waiting for his response and order which now is taking forever.

No one wanted to follow a fallen Capo. I shook my head and continued working on the painting in front of me. Darrel turned his wedding band on his finger, a quiet gesture, before offering a comment. "He got what he deserved." I couldn't help but smile. To me, Soren was a lifetime ago. All that mattered now was the brush in my hand. A year later, my gallery had become one of the most renowned art spaces in New York. Darrel's businesses had all gone legitimate. We bought a house on Long Island, overlooking the ocean.

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

I wanted to get up and scream, reveal all his evil doings because Ria was my cousin, she was family, and we, the Delucas, took family seriously. But seeing the sharp, warning glint in his eyes, I could only swallow back my words like some coward and cry silently. "May I please be excused?" I questioned and he nodded, thankfully. I got up from the chair without gratitude because he did not deserve one, he was a monster. Kelvin placed his hand on my back, about to lead me out of the study when; "Don't forget what we have discussed, Cara Mia ( my darling)." Don Luciano said, and Kelvin flinched upon his use of words, while I dug my nails into my palm.

So I sat. Dante lowered himself into his chair, rubbing his forehead like the weight of the world was crushing him. “Sienna…” His voice cracked, and when he looked at me, I almost didn’t recognize him. The man across from me wasn’t the confident, untouchable Dante the world saw, he looked broken. Almost desperate.

Camila The taste of cold lemonade filled my tastebuds as I gazed over the beach. It has only been a week since we've been in Italy, and it wasn't all that bad. Elijah wasn't a total scum as I thought, but I will never let my guard down. He's a Camorra, I never trust one, except Mira, you can't not trust Mira, she's one in a million and will most definitely fight for your trust.

The company was accused of plagiarism and infringement. Dana was not planning to stay idle throughout her stay in California so she decided to research about the CRUZ company. It was created by the Cruz couple and when Manuel died, Henry took over as the CEO. Dana had to confess that she had been hearing of the CRUZ company in the past years during her stay in Italy. Their works were distributed worldwide and sold in many different countries. Their designs were superb and so were the paintings which were made by their first son.

I tend to keep my mafia books light but this one will be different. Fanuco Ferrero is a sick twisted man and he turns Catalina into who she is. To be able to show the extent of his damage, some themes can't be avoided. Please DON'T IGNORE this warning and complain about it in the future. For those who decide to proceed, thank you for your support.

My eyes scanned him; it was the same strong jaw and same sharp eyes that made me feel small just by looking at me. But there was one difference: this man had no scar on his face, his skin was smooth, his expression was even colder, and worst, it was empty. "Adora," My dad finally spoke, his voice was breaking. "Please... listen." "What's going on? Who are they?" I asked, looking between my father and a supposed Don. "My name is El-Cana," the man said quietly. His voice was deep, and it echoed in the living room. His voice was the kind that didn’t need to be loud to be obeyed.