Hot Italian Mafia Men Novels & Stories

My life was reduced to digits. “Hundred.” Gasps rippled. My eyes darted to the front row, and my blood iced. Dante Moretti. The name alone could silence a room. He sat casually, one leg crossed, his hand raised in lazy dominance. His sadistic cold blue eyes lingering on me with lust, his dark brown hair styled neatly. Everyone knows him—the most feared mafia in Italy. Brutal. Merciless. A handsome devil cloaked in silk suits. No. No, not him. Anyone but him.

She had her eyes fixed intently on me, threatening to pierce through mine if I didn’t speak up quickly. My teeth chattered against their will. A sudden cold seeped into my bones and made me shiver slightly. Maybe it was because I saw myself back in the past at that moment. And standing right in the middle of the council room that had the three most powerful mafia men in the city. Oliver Flynn Moretti. Sanchez Harry Rossi. Donatello Morano. Three best friends who’d sworn never to give power to any other family except themselves. Men who had loyalty for breakfast, blood for lunch, and power beneath their feet.

"The games I play usually end in blood." Ivan didn't dare move, just glared at me. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with?" I smiled, about to say something. Just then, the crowd parted. A man in a black silk shirt strolled over, oozing a dangerous, magnetic charm with every step. He had the classic profile of an Italian man—deep green eyes, dark brown hair that was just the right amount of messy. Victor Bellini. The Godfather of Italy's largest mafia family.

The Italian Mafia men were known for their gang tattoos, often intricate and symbolic. And since they already had hold of the server, Hades knew he’d rather die than snitch on those who sent him. Hades just needed to find out what Gregory and the Italian Mafia had cooking. Claudine reached up to her head, her hand trembling so badly she could barely unpin the small fascinator. She fumbled with her earrings.

The other English man with black hair uttered. Roberto exchanged looks with Elio, and Elio grinned. “Yes. He is here already.” He pointed to Roberto, and Roberto looked at the white men. “Say something, Roberto,” Elio added, and he nodded. “I am Roberto Galante, the son of Giovanni Galante,” Roberto uttered, feeling so proud of himself. “He is the head of the Mafia in Italy, it has always been in the family since day zero.” Elio butted in, and Roberto smiled faintly.

Since I have become his human diary, I know everything that there is to know about Arrigo. Leonardo has enjoyed the success and benefits that have come with being the first cousin of the Leonardo Mafia don. The Leonardo Mafia is the most notorious mafia in the whole of Italy and the world. They run the biggest drug trade operation, weapon trade and sex ring. They are what we have been taught to believe about mafia’s: ruthless. They bribe world leaders with millions in cash and kill spies who dare get too close.

As the distance between me and them shrinks, whatever remainder of sanity I still had in my core, cracks away. One by one, three men step out of the two cars. They are all dressed to nines. And they all have faces that cannot be mistaken for anyone else. The leaders of three (out of five) mafia families take positions across from me. Roberto Sandri, Duccio Giangrasso and, last but not least, Carlo Rizzio. It struck me then.

I whispered. "Mario Savellini, the father of Niccolò Savellini. My old-time friend and business partner. The Savellinis are the biggest mafia in Italy. Second in the world after the Russians," I nodded. I was glad I could ask him these questions at any given time. After all, I had little to no clue who any of these people were. But Archer didn't tolerate this type of behaviour. He wanted me to not speak and just look presentable. The reason why I wasn't allowed to any events after one of them, which took place after our wedding, was because of my questions. At least I thought that was the reason. I never thought of the possibility of Chris being one of the many.

Matter of fact, neither does my father. The first most well known family is the De Santis. Most people don't know it but they're also in the mafia. And of course, they're first. Their leader, Ace De Santis is 22 and rumors has it, he is fucking awesome at his job. People are scared of him. I, however, most people think im a damn myth. Not that i care, people believe what they want. The leader of the Italian mafia is Ace while my father is the leader of the American mafia. We are allies... Sort of. "ALEXIA SKYLAR HALE. FOCUS.", My father yelled through the ear piece

He said, waving a dismissive hand. Lorenzo breathed in relief and gestured for Chiara to follow him. The two quietly left the office and Lorenzo’s eyes darted cautiously around the restaurant. He looked at his daughter, his eyes holding multiple pleas. “Papa, there’s no way I’m going to be with that man.” Chiara spat, her eyes glaring at the door of her father’s office like Dante could see her. “I’m afraid we both don’t have a choice in the matter. Dante is… more dangerous than you could think.” Lorenzo muttered nervously, his eyes still darting around the restaurant.