Mafia Boss Style Novels & Stories

Tony said simply. “What like the Mafia?” Said Grace shocked. “The Mafia is the Italian version, you already met Xan who is the Chinese Gang Syndicate leader and you already met the European one as well!" Tony said carefully. “Xan, that arsehole I just stared down?” Grace said and Tony nodded. "Who is the European one?” She asked quickly. Tony sighed and said “Kurt Blackwood!” There was a silence as the blood drained out of Grace’s face. She felt like someone had ripped her heart out and kicked her in the stomach at the same time.

Black slacks, a dark dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, a glint of silver from his watch. Calm. Cold. Untouchable. His eyes flickered briefly to me, a mere glance, before he turned back to the two men standing nearby. Strangers. No, not strangers. Bratva. Viktor and Nikolai, his consigliere and second in command. Their eyes slid to me, appraising and calculating. I felt like prey among predators. Misha’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. He extended a hand, and without a word, I understood. “Come here,” he said softly. But there was no question in his voice. Only command.

The man looked calm and collected. The third one was a woman in biker's gear. Her hairs were pulled up into a messy bun as she walked on her boots flaunting her perfect curves. There was a little box in one and a bottle of water in her another hand. Bee stared at the three faces as her world of fantasies started to act up. These three stood out from the crowd, they were not like normal Americans you will bump into the streets. Bee has seen many movies and she immediately recalled seeing such people in Mafia themed movies. People from the gangs were the one who had such notorious fashion.

“I think you and I both know there’s no running away from this. You can make it easy, or you can make it difficult. Your choice.” She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to give in, not wanting to admit that her options were narrowing down so quickly. She had been backed into a corner for too long, and now it was time to face the reality of her situation. There was no escape from him. There never had been. “You really think you’re in control, don’t you?” she shot back, her voice more confident than she felt. “You think because you’re some mafia boss or whatever that you’re untouchable? That I’ll just roll over and do whatever you want?”

I mean, he looks…more like Vince than he's ever done. His thug and elegance mix was more striking than ever. I don't want to sound dramatic, but he got dangerously hotter. His hair was black and sleek, shorter but fucking sleek. The rings around his fingers were typical of him. The black tuxedo, being so casually fitting with the upper buttons open, showing those damn tattoos, made him a one hell of a fucking thirst trap. Except he was too edgy to be just a random thirst trap. It gave him a more Mafia boss-like appearance, and those eyes still held so much intensity; it was terrifying.

Valerio at this moment, on the other hand, is more like a mortal man, although wearing hundreds of thousands of dollars of custom-made suits, the suit is messy and wet. Although the shoes on his feet are worth more than 100,000 yuan, but when it rains, many of the soaked leather shoes on the street are the same. Although dressed well, platinum-coloured hair is messy,...... he is at the moment, more than a woeful, but more close to a worldly mortal. The crowd froze ...... and looked at Zona, who was held in Boss's arms, and all fell into silence, saying nothing - their Boss, their mafia lord, for a most most loathsome woman, was in such a state of disarray.

He walked off to his previous sitting position. A man stood up to volunteer himself for the job. Boss was the number one mafia lord ruling in both New York and Las Vegas. His identity was unknown as he will always put on a mask. Every one of the people present in the meeting was one-way help by the boss. The boss found them at the brink of death, nurtured, fed them, and gives them life by empowering them with monies and company. His name rang in every household in New York, every trace to get to him was futile. He is a very skilled man who never leaves any traces unless he chooses to kill his predator.

Megan blabbered. "You have too many questions. Boss doesn't like when we ask too many questions." "I promised I won't say anything. I just wanna know who he is. Who I'm dealing with. I don't wanna die not knowing who killed me." "I doubt he will kill you now. He told you his name." Caroline giggled as she thought this woman is something else. "Boss is the head of the Italian mafia. That much I can tell you." Megan gulped audibly as terrifying scenes crossed her mind after she heard the word mafia. Her palms became sweaty. Hadn't realised she was holding her breath, she turned to look at Caroline.

A man in a flashy Versace shirt glasses sat on a sofa, peeling an apple with a switchblade. Viktor. An internationally notorious arms dealer for the Russian Bratva, and the maddest dog in Moscow. He played the part of a playboy, but everyone knew his methods were crueler than anyone's. "You saved me?" My voice was raspy, like I’d swallowed a handful of gravel.

I listened intently, trying to understand the complexities of his empire. “As you know, I'm the most powerful and influential mafia lord in the city, not someone you fiddled with for any reason! I own and control more than half of the city! I always call the shots!” He disclosed, hitting his chest boastfully, basking in his pride. Irritated by his arrogance, glared at him and looked away. He still didn't stop. “I own the malls, the storehouses, the restaurants, the bars, the clubhouses, and other businesses! So many of them!” He continued, adding to my aggravation.