Mafia Meeting Room Novels & Stories

This wasn't a school reunion; it was a gathering of the city’s underground elite. When Lucien and I entered, the room went dead silent. Lucien was the image of dark elegance, and I stood at his side, my chin high. "I heard this room is strictly reserved for the Mafia Council," one of my old classmates whispered as we were ushered to the VIP booth. "How the hell did Chika get in here?" "Look at his husband," another muttered. "That’s not a businessman. That’s an Afolayan executioner."

When he kissed her again, she fought to not cringe but leaned into him instead. They were whistles and bellows from the people in the room. Later she'd take in the room. She'd heard Gregory's mum talk about the hall. It's size and beauty and was it beautiful as it was large. Containing so many people and still had space. You'd think it was a party hall mostly used for weddings. She allowed him to lead her further into the room, smiling, making polite greetings and little introductions as they passed. Elena took in that they were people from other mafia and thought, no wonder they were so much.

I growl, glaring at him with a challenging look. In complete silence, Deniz lays his gun roughly in the man's hand, which surreptitiously screams danger. "Please," the blonde female gestures with her hand for us to enter the room, "The meeting will commence when you have been seated." One of the men pushes open the door, and when we enter the room, we descend the six steps to the large glass table, which is big enough to accommodate twenty-six Kingpins, Dons, or Mob Bosses. Depending on what you like to call us.

On the other hand, Serena is loyal to a fault - it helps that she’s my Consigliere. We leave the basement, and I remind Dario to get a cleaner for the snitch before walking towards my bedroom. Tonight, there would be a meeting with Italy's top 3 mafia leaders and a crime boss from Greece. These meetings no longer made me nervous, knowing that these men all wanted to see me fail. I don’t know how I kept it together all this time, but as I step into my bedroom, the reason runs towards me.

To clear my head, to regain control before I did something reckless. I couldn't afford to let my emotions cloud my judgment, not in this world. I turned and strode out of the estate, the need to bury myself in the familiar chaos of the mafia world pulling me forward. The meeting was in full swing when I arrived. Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of stale coffee and cheap cologne. Faces, hardened by years of violence and betrayal, turned towards me as I entered. "Boss Giovanni," Dmitri, my second-in-command, greeted me with a curt nod. "You're late."

"Vince is a nobody. If the Costellos wanted to, they could make the Moretti family disappear overnight." I thought for a moment. "Set up the meeting." "Are you sure?" Father asked. "I'm sure," I said, my voice firm. "I want to see what this Dante Costello really wants." The next afternoon, I stood at the entrance of the Art Institute of Chicago. The designated meeting spot. A strange choice. Most mafia meetings happen in dark restaurants or private clubs, not brightly lit museums. "Miss DeLuca?" A man in a black suit approached me.

Some things were always better left unsaid and it was better I remained mute for the sake of this meeting and also to hear what he said, I wouldn’t be thoroughly pissed with myself if I jeopardized it. It was a rather large room. It seemed cut out from an Italian mafia magazine. A typical, bleak coffee-stained room with dirty walls. The scent of sweat, cigarettes, and musky cologne hung in the air like a chandelier, there were pictures on the wall that were some kind of modern art, the furniture looked plain, uncomfortable, leather, and black.

I can’t even begin to understand what she is going through, she was so close to her mother, and I know I will need to beg for her forgiveness later for not being there. “Edgar is our new head of security”, I let out before opening the door and slamming it shut. I see Hazel watching me, but I quickly walk into the building in front of me. This is a very popular hotel within the mafia world. Most of our meetings need to happen in an open space, so nobody kills anyone happens here.

Marco p.o.v The music playing quietly in the background, I glance at my wristwatch again, groaning. It's been only a few hours into the event, and barely twenty minutes since I joined these men in a private conference room. The men arguing in front of me are capos, Dons of various regions in the country. We are having a Mafia meeting in the middle of a charity event, how convenient. I heave a sigh again. These morons are wasting my time, I should be home with Zoey, not listening to them fight over bullshit.

He promptly typed a curt reply and sent it back, stating that he wouldn’t go—even if the deal was cancelled. After office hours ended and with no more work scheduled for the day, he left for his mafia base. It was a secret underground facility accessed through one of the Vitelli factories that wasn’t operational. No one suspected it could be one of their bases, as no mafia would mix their legitimate and illegitimate businesses for safety’s sake. “Boss, I thought you weren’t coming,” Hunter exclaimed in surprise as the mafia king entered the dimly lit room. The room was thick with the stench of sweat and gun oil, barely masked by the sharp aroma of expensive whiskey. Four of Cristiano’s men s