Novel & Cerita Hot Mafia Man

Evan asked. "Do you know who this is?" Morgan threw a picture of a man with a pair of snakes tattooed on his arm. Evan took the photo and looked at it. "Where do you recognise this demon-serving Mafia? No one recognises his face, only his hands are a clue." "He's Roy Erwin! Russian Mafia. He's currently trying to hack into everything I own! You know what you have to do! Jonathan has organised a tactic for you!" "It's not free man!" Evan replied with a smile.

"Charlie was almost kidnapped recently, so I was so panicked that I lost control." Manuel's mouth curved into a faint, ironic smile. He stared directly into Emma's eyes, which clearly showed her anxiety. His expression seemed arrogant and crazy, "Are you afraid I'll kill you?" "Don't talk nonsense. The kid is still here..." Emma's shoulders trembled, pulling Charlie back a few steps. Although she tried to appear calm, her beautiful eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. Emma was naturally cautious of this man named Manuel. Who wasa he? The head of a mafia organization that owned the largest casino in Italy, even the police dare not interfere with their business.

“Who told you to rob me?” “The man on the street. He offered me a hundred dollars. I was supposed to bring your wallet and the girl’s purse back to him.” “More specific, asshole. What’s the man’s name?” “I don’t know.” I took another step. “I can’t say.” “This Beretta is already cocked. All I need to do is pull the trigger and your brain will be splattered all over this garage.” He closed his eyes as a tear ran down his cheek. “He goes by Manuel. Manual Lopez.”

Chapter 1: Interest in Flesh Trope: Mafia / Debt / Captive Heat Level: [NOIR] The basement smelled like damp concrete and expensive cigars. Sofia sat on a wooden chair, her hands tied behind her back. She looked up as the heavy metal door groaned open. Marco stepped in. He wasn't wearing a suit today…just a black undershirt that showed off the tattoos climbing up his neck. He was the man her father owed five million dollars to. And since her father didn't have the cash, he had offered Sofia instead.

I rolled my eyes as I adjusted myself back on the seat. “What are you?” I demanded. “I’m a man.” “Karl.” He grinned. “Okay, okay.” He sighed and leaned back. “I’m just… a right-hand man.” “That is the vaguest job description in history.” “I work with the mafia, love.” Silence stretched between us. My head was just blank. He turned to face me. “Massimo is a mafia boss. I’m his right-hand man.” The words came out way too casually. Like he’d just said he works in accounting. My mouth hung open. My brain rebooted twice. Oh my goodness.

So he sat and frowned at the shaking woman in my arms and waited patiently. “I think I should introduce myself again. My name is Misha, Misha Yakov. I am American with Russian roots and my father is the head of the Russian mafia in the states, his name is Akim Yakov.” She said in a croaked voice and again Brady went to the kitchen and brought her another glass of water and she took it nodding her head in thanks.

"Don't worry, they're taking him to a hospital. No matter how much boss hates him...he won't let that boy die." I turned to the young man behind me. When did he get in? I didn't even hear his footsteps! Anyways, who is he? "Oh I'm sorry, I'm Taha. Ruzhaan's right hand man and his buddy. I know he looks like a bad guy but he's really soft inside. 1 Mafia boss banna asaan nahi hai. Logo mei apna dar banaye rakhna zaroori hai." He said gently. (It's not easy being a Mafia boss. It's important to maintain your terror in people.)

And now he acted like she didn’t exist. Jacobo seemed to notice something in her tone because he shifted uneasily before muttering, “The signore is very busy with work matters.” Svetlana clicked her tongue. “Oh, sure. I imagine narcotrafficking, human trafficking, and…” her voice dripped with sarcasm, every word laced with poisonous sweetness. The change in Jacobo was immediate. His back stiffened, his dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of irritation and wounded pride. “The signore doesn’t get involved in white slavery,” he replied firmly. “He’s against that.”

The man tried to headbutt me but I moved before the blow connected and slammed him again, harder this time. “You are not getting out of this with bravado,” I growled. “Now talk.” But the man’s mouth moved, too quickly and my instincts screamed. I leapt back just as the man exhaled sharply, lips turning blue. Cyanide. A capsule hidden under the tongue. Standard issue for the kind of people who couldn’t afford to be taken alive: the mafia. The man collapsed to the ground, twitching once, then still. I stood over him, breathing hard. My hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from rage.

Giulia, panic rising in her eyes, jumped behind the strange man. I'd scared her because of that stranger. The thought made me mad. I pointed my gun directly at him. "Pearl, stay behind me," he said in a calm voice. "Step away from her!" I shouted, the rage in my voice unmistakable. The man slowly turned, and that’s when I recognized him. The burly figure, the silver streaks in his red hair, the sharp eyes squinting at me with a kind of calm authority that only a few men possessed. Roberto Santini... the head of the mafia lords of Spain.