Mafia Prince Novels & Stories

He turned to one of his seconds, ‘Voglio che ogni uomo disponibile guardi e ascolti qualsiasi cosa riguardo a quel fottuto principe, voglio che siamo pronti quando farà la sua mossa. Non può, in nessun caso, avvicinarsi ad Alcina, capisci?’ [I want every available man out looking and listening for anything regarding that fucking Prince, I want us to be ready when he makes his move. He cannot, under any circumstances, get near Alcina, do you understand?] His men nodded moved into their fours and left to hunt down the Prince’s men, who were completely unaware of the fate that was waiting for them, they had severely underestimated the Italian Mafia.

Just don't go easy on him, okay? As I left the basement, the groans picked up again but quickly faded into silence. Fiona took me to a room that was decked out in all my favorite colors. My graffiti art covered the walls, each piece framed, with my wobbly 'Cole' signature in the corner. Before I was taken, we were not exactly rolling in dough. Three of us crammed into one room, but we were a happy bunch. "Mom, how in the world did you end up running a casino in Macoria? And where did all this cash come from?"

The air crackled with the promise of murder. Then, a set of heavy footsteps from the doorway. My grandfather, Giovanni. The patriarch of the Moretti family, the old Don who built our empire in Chicago. Behind him stood Leo Bianchi, the family's consigliere. The entire inner circle was here. "What... what the hell happened here?!" My grandfather's eyes were about to pop out of his head. He saw my state, the mess on the floor, and Brenda on the ground, moaning. His face was a thundercloud of pure rage.

Adriana found her there, as always, her cousin’s eyes sharp with curiosity. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, “Adriana teased, though her voice softened when she saw Emily’s pale expression. “What happened?” Emily hesitated, then whispered, “They’ve arranged my marriage. To Antonio DeLuca’s son. ”Adriana froze. Then her lips parted in disbelief. “Jason DeLuca? The mafia heir?” Emily nodded, her throat tight. Adriana cursed under her breath. “Emily, you can’t. He’s not for you. You’re a princess—pure, radiant, the people’s symbol. Marrying him will drag your name into the mud”.

The mafia prince! The Thunderstorm family looked at the mysterious man in shock, their eyes not believing what they saw, especially Trevor and Vanessa! “Our son…,” Trevor whispered. “… is the infamous Mafia Prince.” Vanessa completed. The demon king rushed out of the cave and dove straight into the river, his black figure a sharp contrast against the gigantic, silvery-white waterfall. Vance did not hesitate to follow suit. “Noooo!” Azrion screamed, horrified at what the love of his life was attempting to do.

“And I’m going to make sure you’re happy with me every single day.” His sweet tone made my heartbeat quicken. He is freaking good at acting, making every word sound natural and sincere. I never imagined a mafia king could speak so softly. But judging by the crowd’s reaction, everyone was buying it. A faint smile appeared on his face, and the entire room seemed to gasp. I was certain they had never seen him look at anyone like that before. Cameras flashed endlessly, capturing every second of the performance. “Please say a few words,” the emcee said, handing me the mic.

Mad also missed me, and he was proving how much he did. I gasped for air as the kisses ended, and someone just cleared their throat behind him. A tall man in his thirties. He looked like he had just come out of a men’s fashion magazine as the sexiest man alive. He slightly bowed his head, but what was striking was his smile and his expressive eyes. “Princess.” My eyebrows shot up. “You must be the mafia.” He laughed. “Al tuo servizio.” “I’m Tara.” I extended my hand.

' He sat back in his chair, completely at ease, a huge shit-eating grin spread across his handsome face. 'You are so fucking adorable, little Principessa, but you have much to learn. Mr Delanzo is the Head of all the Mafioso Families. He is basically a King, untouchable; he can do whatever he likes, and no one will stop him.' His eyes met mine, and all the amusement had left his; they were almost black and as cold as ice.

He had the heir position, the respect from his father, and the man who was supposed to control him now bent over for him when he wanted. But as the meeting ended, one of the captains got a call. His face went white. “What is it?” the Don asked. “The Morettis just hit one of our clubs in the city. Twenty dead. They left a message. For the prince.” Leo’s blood ran cold. Kai stepped closer, hand on his gun. “What message?” The captain swallowed. “They said the prince’s new toy will not save him. They know about the bodyguard.” Leo looked at Kai. The heat between them suddenly felt like a weakness.

Morte Nera Empire Luciano Saint Claire's Mansion~ Luciano Saint Claire was the King of Morte Nera Empire; he was regarded as the leader of all the mob houses and Mafia leaders in Italy. He was seated on a sofa on the balcony of his room, sipping from a glass of scotch, while Antonio stood before him, his hands casually in his pockets. One thing he got from his father was the ability to mask his expressions, stay calm even under tensed situations, just like he was doing now. His addiction to scotch was also gotten from Luciano.