Mafioso And Chance Forsaken Novels & Stories

Theodora Althea Corazon, a woman buried six feet below the ground and now the living corpse bride of a man, The Mafioso's Corpse Bride.

She was different. I was getting disturbingly attracted to her until I found out that she was a Martelli. A family I had longed to wipe out. Ten years ago, my family and hers had a terrible feud, causing the death of several members from both sides. My father and sister had died as a result, leaving me with the responsibilities of a mob boss at seventeen. I never forgave those responsible for their deaths, and I had vowed to wipe out the entire family when the time came.

We drank, and she had come begging for a taste of my dick, and I gave her hot, more than she could handle. She swung and spun around the pool like a professional, her ass swinging around with her. The fun part is that she is always naked, unlike other strippers who will wear pants and a bra. She finished dancing and walked off the stage without glancing at anyone. “Let the banquet begin,” Father announced from the head table, his smirk aimed in my direction. I looked at him with a stern face. He must announce the start of the ceremony since he is the most powerful mafia ever known in Italy. Father is the head of La famiglia Oscura, the deadliest mafia.

My footsteps echoed against the marble floor, each one like a thunder warning. Francesco Russo thought he was clever. A key in a nipple clip. Locked doors. Dead signals. Women trained like sirens. But I wasn’t a sailor. I was the storm. I took out the blade tucked under my belt as I moved. If Francesco wanted something by seduction, he just invited the wrong man.

Leaning in, he planted a soft kiss on my cheek before pulling the car door open and slipping inside. "La mia bellissima cugina. Bye.” He muttered before shutting the door without even giving me the chance to say goodbye. As he drove away, I turned around to make my way back into the mansion, but I quickly stopped in my tracks and gasped in surprise when someone I never expected to see again came to view. “Surprised?” He smiled charmingly, his arms folded across his chest. To say I was surprised is an understatement. I was perplexed, bewildered, and bemused. “What are you doing there?” I asked when I finally recovered from the shock. “To cut it short, business.” He stated, taking long

“Diego has been trying to destroy me for years. I know he’d cut off his own arm if he thought the blood would stain my carpet. And I know he wouldn’t hesitate to use anyone—even his own son—to gain an advantage over me.” “That’s not—” “How would I know,” I continue, cutting him off, “that this isn’t exactly what he planned? Send his pretty son to seduce me into a bad deal, just like he’d send one of his sluts?” The moment the words leave my mouth, I see the shift in Marcelo’s eyes. The look of someone who’s been pushed too far. I anticipate anger. I anticipate sharp words. I do not anticipate the fist that connects with my jaw.

I approached the pedestal, heart racing, while Damien stood a few paces behind me, his expression unreadable. I hesitated, then reached out and opened the tome. The pages were filled with intricate symbols, archaic text, and sketches of creatures that defied explanation. As I skimmed the pages, I began to piece together a narrative of balance and chaos—a tale of an order that had sought to harness the raw forces of creation and destruction. The text spoke of a “Chosen Vessel,” a being who would carry the mark of the Forsaken and become a conduit for ancient power. It described a ritual of transformation, a dangerous process that could either elevate a mortal to near-divine status or condemn

I touched her face, but Angel slapped my hand away. "Don’t be stupid! We’ll both die out here if you keep this up!" "What a beautiful couple!" Mancini shouted, making us turn toward him. "It’s a shame you made so many bad choices, Falcone! Choosing that girl was your biggest mistake!" "I believe the opposite—Angela is perfect for me." I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her body against mine, not caring about him. "Of that I have no doubt. She’s childish, weak, and foolish—just like you. Two kids thinking they could run a mafia..."

The hunter released my wrist for the first time since we left the corridor. But two armed men immediately stepped closer. Just in case. “Get in,” he said, gesturing to the SUV. I looked back at the mansion. Flames flickered behind the broken windows. Somewhere inside that building— Alessio was bleeding. Dmitri was probably planning murder. And the entire Italian underworld was about to lose its mind. Worrying about a Russian they were originally paid to kill. The hunter followed my gaze. “Regretting your decision already?”