Lucky Luciano Right Hand Man Novels & Stories

She would have stopped everything from the start. She felt a hand on her hand. It eased her to know for a fact that it was Luciano, and he was going to stand by her side, unlike the previous men in her life. His hand went down and slid its way into her palm. It tightened, sending warmth and comfort “don’t worry, I'm here with you.” These were the words she waited to hear from Rodriguez or Juan’s father, but she never did. She wanted one of them to stand by her when she was down, but nobody did. Maybe Manuela was right in that Luciano was different from the men who hurt her.

I made sure to include every detail—even Lucille. "I have a granddaughter?" he asked. I nodded my head. "She's with a trusted person right now." He smiled. "I have a granddaughter," he repeated under his breath before looking back at me. "Continue." I continued with my story up until the time that Don Emiliano captured Luciano from Amari Coast and gave him an ultimatum. His frown deepened as the story progressed, so I had some hope in my heart that he was indeed going to help me.

A half-naked dancer slid around a chrome pole like she was born wrapped in metal, while the crowd hooted like animals in heat. Blood-red chandeliers swayed above leather couches. Crystal glasses sparkled with things that burned worse than fire. And at the far end—like a throne carved in shadow—sat Luciano. Goddamn Lucifer in a tailored suit. Black shirt, no tie. A glinting silver ring shaped like a lion’s head wrapped around his middle finger. His eyes scanned the club like a king bored with his kingdom. Next to him, half-drunk and draped in arrogance, was Marco, his right hand, who looked like he’d enjoy peeling a man’s skin just to hear the scream.

The type of calm that comes before a bloodbath. "I'm still looking into it," he said, gripping the wheel, his expression grim. "But I have a feeling Luciano might be involved. The smuggler we dealt with earlier—Jerry—was one of his men, and we had also destroyed most of his trafficking." Luciano. A bitter smirk curled my lips. That cowardly, pathetic bastard wouldn’t dare attack me outright, not unless he was feeling suicidal. But if he was desperate enough to send people into my house? That meant he was either emboldened… or desperate.

Lucien said, his smile tight, annoyance flickering as he took a drag from his cigar. Evan shrugged. “He got in the way.” Lucien led him toward the house. “And his brother? You took out Luciano, too?” “Luciano’s dead,” Evan said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Ethan handled him.” Lucien grimaced, exhaling smoke. “That fool? Hated working with him. Stupid, unlike Giancarlo.” He grinned, eyes glinting. “And Giancarlo’s assistant—what was her name? Nina! Is she alive?”

She was the only meaning to his life, and if she wasn't in his life anymore, he had no reason to stay in the world. "Ditto," Lucian called. "Yes, boss?" Ditto walked over to Lucian. "Done a check on who those men were?" "Yes, boss. I found out that he was Mr. Romano's right-hand man and had fled when you took over. He started up too but hasn't been able to get a grip on things over the years." "Such a person, such a loser caused Aurelia to be in there." "What should I do to them, boss?" "Nothing. Just keep them locked up. I will deal with those bastards myself."

He picked up Luca who buried his face in his neck and continued babbling. I helped myself out and hung my arm in his arm. When we arrived, Luciano interacted with a man who didn’t look less than a manager but turned out he was his employee and this building happened to be Bernardi’s. Shocking, wasn’t it, but I was used to it. Everywhere I went, I found people chanting their names.

the man blurted and tilted his body backwards as he feared what Luciano might do to him with the knife. Luciano was taken aback by the revelation. "Don Fenyo?" Fenyo Valdez is the head of the Valdez cartel in Mexico, he and Gustavo had never crossed paths before. So how the fuck did he know about their shipments? And why did he sabotage it, what's his fucking deal?

“I promise, I’d pay you back the money, but please just let me go.” Lorenzo’s expression darkened as he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, eyes never leaving mine. His words were calm, deliberate. "You’re not going anywhere, Lucia." I blinked, my throat tightening. "Why?" My voice was barely more than a whisper. "Because," he said, stepping closer, "you saw me kill a man." My heart dropped. The memory of that night—blood, the cold look in his eyes—flashed before me. I swallowed hard. "I promise I won’t say anything. I swear, I wouldn’t—"

If I wanted answers—real answers—I’d have to get close to Luca. Luca Del Vecchio. His name had been whispered in every corner of this city—the billionaire who threw extravagant charity galas by day and ran the city’s underworld by night. No one said it outright, of course. You didn’t accuse Luca of anything if you wanted to live to see the sunrise.