Marcello Mobster Novels & Stories

Luigi's office is even bigger than my own house. I couldn't help but wonder: How wealthy and successful is he? As I pondered, my eyes caught the nameplate on the desk. They widened as I read it. Mattia Luigi D'Amato, and underneath, it boldly states 'Chief Executive Officer'. What the heck? Is this real? How successful is this guy in life? And how many more times is he going to catch me off guard? My goodness! As I swallowed, the door swung open, and Luigi walked in. I promptly stood up and gave a bow. He purchased me, so that makes him my boss, right?

“You think you can anoint the new Don Cartelli? You want his uncle to take it all?” A madman's laugh broke free. “You think I've done it all for Vito?” “If not him, then who? Dante?” Catherine asked. “Let's say I found a better solution.” Marcello breathed out a chuckle. “It will be the beginning of the new Mafia world. We will make history.” “We?” Catherine croaked. Marcello let out a dramatic sigh. “You'll see soon enough… and it'll be the last thing you'll see.”

" Logan DeAngelo is a feared, ruthless and notorious mafia boss who most of the time ranked first among the most popular and richest Mafia bosses in the entire world. And he was the very first when narrowed down to Italy....... " I sighed again, trying to give Maddy a hint that I didn't care about her lame mafia story. Seriously, she has got to stop doing this. "....... Owning powers over his family's companies and numerous power plants wasn't enough. He wanted more and everything he could lay his hands on. He's rumored to be known as the second coming of the devil himself because of his cruel ways of dealing with people below him...... "

“Vanessa, meet Viktor Ivanov. One of the biggest arms dealers in Eastern Europe.” Viktor’s eyes flicked toward me with mild interest before he nodded. “A beautiful woman at your side. Interesting.” Alaric didn’t respond to the comment, instead turning his gaze toward the other man. “And him?” Leon leaned in. “Marcello Ricci. Runs the underground casinos in Italy.” Marcello smirked, his dark eyes raking over me before returning to Alaric. “Didn’t think I’d see the day you brought someone to one of these meetings. Must be special.”

The way old grief wraps around your ribs and calls itself purpose. Victor had sent me a man. To kill. Robert had always been the one to ordered me not Victor. Victor is the golden son, no link or ties to the dirty jobs underneath the Wolfe dynasty. But today Victor had order me. The name of the man was Marcello Venti. Mid level financier in the biotech underworld. Ties to an old rival family, but nothing deep. A weak link in the chain. He had spoken to someone he shouldn’t have. Victor’s note, silent, precise, made it clear: Marcello was a liability.

Stefan pleaded weakly. “I won't,” The man mumbled slowly, pulling back the silver gun, tapping Stefan's cheek with it.. “I won't waste my bullet on you, run back like a coward to your family, Stefan, tell them ‘Don Marcello Ricci, the inferno Lord’ won, eh?” The way he spoke, the mix of British and Italian accents, made it hard to breathe. How could one have both accents at once? Don Marcello Ricci? So he was a mafia lord.

The mafia side built empires on the things those systems couldn't see. By 7:45 I was in the Maybach again, heading to the Bronx warehouse. Marco drove silent. I scrolled messages ,rival moves in Queens, a shipment delay in Jersey, a name I hadn't heard in years Enzo Bianchi surfacing in whispers.I closed the tablet. Some ghosts you didn't chase. You waited for them to come to you.Warehouse district smelled of rust and salt water. Luca waited outside the loading dock, cigarette between his fingers."Boss," he said, falling in step. "Everything's accounted for. No leaks.""Good."Inside crates stacked high, men in black jackets unloading discreetly. I walked the rows, checking seals. One crate h

he began, his tone dropping into a cold cadence that made the hairs on my arms stand up, "he was held captive by the Spanish Mafia. They snatched him right off the street in broad daylight, bypassing our security like we were nothing but amateurs. And then, they sent me a message. They threatened to kill him if I didn't hand over a massive international business deal—a shipping and logistics contract that I was supposed to handle, one that would have secured the Vitale family's dominance for the next decade." My eyes were glued to his profile, my anger forgotten, swallowed up by the chilling gravity of his story. I could see the rigid set of his jaw, the tiny muscle jumping in his cheek as h

“I-I don't know what you are talking about.” “I can remind you.” “Well, well! If it isn't the rudest man in all of Texas!” A short man with a belly the size of a nine-month pregnancy suddenly appears out of nowhere. Flanked by four frowning men, he smiles. “Hello, Ace!” “Marcello.” Marcello Conti, the leader of the Conti Mafia and one of the richest criminals in the States. He has stakes in every shady deal in Texas. From drugs, human trafficking, fraud, robbery, murder.