Mafia Bloodline Novels & Stories

'My name?' He asked with a shocked expression. 'Yes.' He frowned and looked me in the eyes. 'Giovanni, my name is Giovanni LaRosa.' I smiled to myself. It's long and sexy, just what I hoped for. 'Okay, uhmm...' I was thinking what question I could ask. 'Do you do illegal stuff?' I asked. 'Yes. I do.' He said. Jesus, that was easy.. I nodded my head and thought of the possible thing he did. Maybe he killed more than just my sister. Or he is into drugs. Or woman export. You never know. But I'm already screwed, so fuck it.

( Alyssa said) "Yes please, what does it say?" ( Mr Leonardo adds up In a hate and listened to what she had to say) Alyssa's turns her eyes and falls it on me while speaking, she says, "Life has a way of making us pay for our sins, and concerning the what you told me, yes!!! Your son is being hunted by the spirit of his dead brother". "what?" Mr Leonardo airs out in disbelief. Alyssa kept her countenance on me while Mr Leonardo vents out and leaves me behind.

He knew there was a deep meaning in what he said and he wanted nothing more than to find out what really was in those words. "For as long as I can remember, Michael has been a thorn in my flesh. He tortured me and dealt with me for years both physically and mentally and you think I am going to allow him to die the easy way? Just like that?" Connor snapped. Bruno took a step back as if only just realizing who he was talking to. He had underestimated this man sitting before him. He had forgotten that the man sitting before him was a deadly man, a billionaire and a mafia lord who controlled thousands of men and thousands of properties and he knew not to talk to him anyhow he liked because he co

Tim added confidently. His expected reaction did not happen, instead, silence ruled. Pausing and turning towards the brothers, his brows furrow seeing them looking perplexed. "What happened to the two of you?" Carl asked when he saw the two brothers with their faces. Justin and Zack remained quiet for a long while. After the long silence, they anxiously looked around the cafeteria. "Our fathers are the previous gang leader and the previous casanova" Justin whispered. He looked to be in a daze and seemed to be analyzing what their new friends have been discussing earlier.

I couldn't take the suffocation I felt. My father didn't stop me. He simply sighed as I made my way past him and into the family room. I wanted to laugh at the irony. I sat on the couch and stared at the piano. I wanted to play but I knew the moment I touched that piano I would break down. I had no room for emotion in my life right now. I was going to be the biggest Mafia Don this world had ever seen. Mafia Dons have no room for emotions or family. My father taught me that early on. “Good Evening Master, Neko is making Dinner. Would you like me to play you a song?” Ayla questioned as she spotted me staring at the Grand Piano.

He was looking forward to the baby. I had always thought that once the baby was born, everything would get better. I never expected him to believe Angelina so easily, to suspect me of infidelity and question the bloodline of the child in my womb. Now that he had personally killed my baby, my heart had died with him. Stephan controlled the entire underground network of North America and even Europe. Darren had angered him. The Falcone family would face annihilation.

“Well, that’s true… but I was wondering if you would be open to hearing a proposal I have put together?" He rested his hand on his protruding belly, his eyes boring into mine. "Fine. Let's hear it." I took a deep breath, fighting the nerves settling in my stomach. "Word on the street is that two rival mafia gangs, ‘The Brooklyn Blood Brothers’ and ‘The Blood Kings’, are fighting to control New York. Now, the—" "Wait!” Mr. Jeffers cut in. “The Brooklyn Blood Brothers and The Blood Kings? Gwen, are you listening to yourself right now?" He laughed, shaking his head.

“Why would I do that?” “Easy, so I can tear down your empire,” was all Miles said. There’s silence as the two stared at each other. “Oh my bad. You wanna know how?” he picked up the file, skimming through it. “You made deals with the Mafia, who then made investments into the companies, which is how you basically became powerful. Blood money. Now that these guys,” he pointed at Vincent. “Are after the Yakuza, shit is going to hit the fan for you and your empire. If the Masahiros go down, so does everything that you and them have ever touched with your hands. So me being the kind, considerate son, I’m here to help you,” he says. “After you sign these lovely papers, I’m then going to go to the

He has been down here for four hours, which is nothing, which is routine, which is what he tells himself. The blood-sense has been smoking for eleven days. Two hundred and sixty-three years he's had it. Since the night in 1762 when a woman named Elise, who turned him against his own considered wishes in a Viennese cellar during the Seven Years' War, pressed her wrist against his mouth and said, you'll understand in a moment, and he did. He understood immediately. He felt his bloodline snap into place the way you feel a map unfold — the specific geography of everyone who had ever come from Elise, and everyone who had come from them, a web of thirty-seven souls distributed across Europe like s

"That's a version of him he had to learn how to painstakingly build. The world outside these walls—the teams, hockey, the league, the media—they don't get to see who he actually is. Or where his family’s bloodline comes from." Aria frowned, her defensive, fiery posture faltering just a fraction as she picked up on the sudden, crushing shift in the room's atmosphere. "What are you talking about?" "Back in middle school, before Marcus and I ever became friends, nobody dared speak to him," Liam began, his gaze dropping to the grain pattern of the coffee table. "Nobody even looked him in the eye in the hallways. His family doesn't just have old money, Aria. His father runs one of the most ruthle