Mafia Boss Style Novels & Stories

During dinner that evening, she got dressed in a pink gown and concentrated on her meal when she heard her father clear his throat. Rose looked up at him, hoping he had something nice to say. "I have got a good news!" He suddenly said to everyone in the dining room. Mia stole a glance at him and when she realized he was kinda looking at her, she avoided his gaze. "I got an offer from the biggest investment company in this City. I couldn't believe President Gun Blackwood would ever consider my company worthy to invest in." Everyone was surprised and that included Rose. "Wow! But isn't that the infamous Mafia Boss? That's very good news, though! Congratulations Cross!"

Lorenzo's eyes narrowed dangerously as he retorted unhappily, "Is that why you called me?" The man trembled in fear; he could hear the displeasure in Lorenzo's voice. After being beside him for years, he knew how ruthless his boss could be. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as he nervously added, "They are backed by the mafia gang from the next city. We can't suppress them easily." Lorenzo looked at him intently for a minute, and then, when he moved, it was to raise the muzzle of a gun to the man's forehead.

In reality, this office belonged to a man who conducted most of his business in the shadows. Seated in a high-backed leather chair was Morano LaRosa, the CEO of LaRosa Enterprises—a name known in legal circles as a legitimate business empire, but in the underworld, it held a much darker reputation. His dark hair was slicked back, his facial expression was unreadable as he sat in a meeting with his senior staff. The door swung open without warning. A man in a black suit and dark shades stepped inside. He walked with confidence that surprised Morano. The man exuded authority and power. The room instantly fell silent.

Bruno chuckled, shaking his head. “What’s a low-budget Mafia lord supposed to look like?” he asked between laughs. I laughed too. “I don’t know. Maybe someone who wears all-black, looks dangerous, but drives a Honda instead of a Ferrari.” He laughed harder, holding his stomach. “You’re ridiculous.” “But seriously,” he said once his laughter died down, “he looks way hotter in person. And cold too. You’ll see what I mean. There’s something familiar about him.” I frowned slightly but brushed it off. I couldn’t wait to see this so-called boss that Bruno wouldn’t stop talking about.

I admired the beauty of it in the my full length mirror, I twirled, striking different poses that amused me all the same and damn – Matteo had impeccable taste. I heard his car’s engine roar in the driveway and I cast one last glance at the bouquet of roses sitting on my counter. A resolute framing my face because I knew one thing, this night was more than just a fundraiser, there was something more sinister going on. Matteo was a text book definition of a Mafia boss - all, with broad shoulders, his tailored black suit fitting him perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, and his piercing eyes held a hint of danger that made my heart skip a beat. The crisp white shirt and black tie complete

Him carrying the gun like that and his formal attire with the first three buttons open and the hem of the shirt scarcely tucked in the band of the pants gave him an overwhelmingly sexy look. To be fairly blunt, he gave off an air of being a Mafia man. Although I haven't seen or heard of any and I don't think mafia organizations still exist, if they did then this man could be their boss. Because he had such an enticingly dreadful element about him that screamed Mafia.

"How can he scare you all? You all have the right to oppose him. This is exploitation," said a man sitting in the large hall which had a dark and murky aura . The man looked to be in early twenties. He was dressed in a dark navy blue suit with matching pants. His demeanor screams riches and danger. The Moroccan Boss uttered “DO you think This is our compulsion? He has made his trustworthy people in the mafia of the countries of raw material .This bitchy bastard, No one is ready to go against him.”

Jeff's cold, sharp, and stern face now looked brighter and fresher when he laughed freely. Truly, it made him look many times more handsome. Coupled with his light laughter, it made this mafia boss even more charming. Ah, no, this mafia boss was indeed very charming. His handsome face, firm jawline, sharp eyes, thick eyebrows, well-built and proportional body, and several beautiful tattoos on his body. He was truly the definition of a real man. Handsome, firm, authoritative, and manly.

Why am I acting like this? I am Terrence Vaughn Evans. The Black Scorpion, leader of a fear-mongering group, I am a mafia boss. I am a womanizer. I'm not afraid of anyone or anything. Women cry for me. I make and break rules. But I'm weeping now for someone I don't even know. ’ He tried to convince himself that he was the same Terrence as before, but he knew that something had changed. "Goddamn Terrence, stop this!" he furiously scolded himself. He wanted this feeling to stop. He decided to go somewhere where he would feel like his former self again.

Unlike Andrei, he was dressed in a long red plaid shirt, with a white hoodie underneath and black jeans paired with white basketball-style sneakers. He wasn't a prince charming either, nor was he the king of sensitivity, but he was sensible and eloquent in being himself. She couldn't help but feel comfortable around him. She could have conversations with him even when she was sure he looked down on her, but he was kind then, and everything else didn't matter. She remembered the stereotype that mafia members always dressed formally, and if they were young, they looked like hip-hop enthusiasts or delinquent youth, but they didn't fit those descriptions at all. They probably fooled people with