Marcello Mobster Novels & Stories

I wasn't going to get someone, at least not tonight. One of the men who went by the name Sabre finally spoke. That is a ridiculous name indeed. The meeting went on and I was incredibly frustrated as time passed. I now had my legs crossed atop the table and another cigarette in between my fingers. My head was slightly tilted back as I listened to Sabre talk about the mafia. What deals they have managed to secure? Or who they have pissed off. I was more interested in our position and the wealth acquired.

My eyes settle on the grand staircase, every sound dies down as the king of the mafia world steps into view. Marcello Moretti. I hug my empty tray for comfort, his presence alone creeps fear inside you. He stands at a height of 6 feet, his salt and pepper hair give him a charm like no other, the hard lines of age at the corner of his dark brown eyes show the years he has spent in this unforgiving world. His thin lips are set in a straight line, his face has a natural stone cold expression just like his stone cold heart. He rules this world with an iron fist. He is 62, but looks like in his late 40s, he is wearing a dark suit over his fit body, around his left arm is tucked in his wife Giulia

Lily uttered and shook her head. "I don't care, we're Coopers after all." Leonora said tiredly. Everything is frustrating her these past few days. Even what she feels frustrates her so much. "He's good looking," Lily commented, eyeing Nathan Ong. "I didn't know you like Chinese," she added and teased her. "Lily, goodness!" Leonora commented unbelievably. "And I didn't know you were a Mafia Boss." "So much," she replied. "Is he a Mafia? Gangster? Assassin?" Lily asked. Leonora now froze as the smile on her lips faded right away. Lily knew the answer that quick.

I put the phone aside, "You can leave now." As soon as Agatha leaves the room, I get up from the bed and go to see if there is anyone behind the door, seeing no one, I move away a little and talk to Iuri again. "Emma, are you still there?" "Yes, I am, you can talk." "Got it, Emma. We finally have someone to help." "Who?" "Vincenzo Santorini." That name was not on the list Iuri showed me months ago. I know Vincenzo Santorini, there was no way I couldn't. He was one of the most dangerous mobsters I have ever heard of.

He had a clearly expensive suit on, and his smile looked too rehearsed. “Thank you for coming on such short—” “Skip it,” I said, walking past him. “What do we have?” There were a few exchanged glances, and then the screen lit up with photos of the crime scene where Marcello had been shot. “Marcello De Luca,” the man began, adjusting his tone. “Confirmed head of a major criminal organization operating across multiple territories. His death has destabilized…” “I know who he is,” I cut in. “Who killed him?” I asked. And the room went silent.

Marcello's voice was rising, his anger palpable. Rose's eyes widened as she listened, her mind racing with the implications of what she was hearing. "I don't pay you to make excuses; I pay you to get the job done," Marcello snarled. "You're going to have to do better than this, or you're going to find yourself swimming with the fishes." Rose's heart skipped a beat as she realized the true nature of Marcello's business. She had suspected that he was involved in some shady dealings, but she had never imagined that he was a part of the mafia.

“They're all dead.” “Are you a cop?” My breath rasped in my throat. “Who are you?” “Marco Vitale.” He said coolly. His eyes remained on me like he wanted to catch my genuine reaction. “Like…you mean…the Black Requiem? The infamous Italian mob boss—Marco Vitale?” He grunted a deep approving sound from his throat. “You're well informed.”

I didn’t need his conversation, I needed to work. According to the file Antonio had pulled on Marshall Marcelo, the man was playing a lethal double game. He was secretly collaborating with the Moretti to hijack high-grade cocaine shipments arriving from the Italian families. That was his true motive for trying to block the South Side supply lines—if the Carmene family maintained control of that route, they would claim their standard fifty percent tribute on all transit, making it impossible for Marcelo to skim the shipments for himself. A greedy, short-sighted fool.

Every other gangs outside Palermo knew their boundaries and would never trespass but there was one gang that shared Palermo with him, the Vamp Mafia group. The group calls themselves the tiger of Italy and it was being head by Lord Marcello who was another psychopath. He had been on the other side of Palermo where he protected his territory until Rocco took over. Being the owner of the biggest vineyard, he had so much pride and abused so many people. Most of his workers were lying under the green grass as manure and no one dared to ask him about it. He was that ruthless and terrible. Talks about Rocco planning to buy the vineyard filled the town and everyone knew it only meant trouble becaus

When anyone could think of the Italian Mafia, Falcon name comes first. The Mob PHOENIX is notorious for its cruel and immoral practices, but its most successful members have always been extremely smart businessmen. Falcon revealed its surprisingly effective management techniques and explains how to apply them-legally-to any legitimate business. As an associate of the D'Alberto family, Falcon relied on his instincts to pull off some of the biggest heists in U.S. history. By the age of twenty-one, he had netted millions of dollars for his employers. His natural talent for management led Mafia bosses to rely on him.