Marvel Madman Novels & Stories

His mother, May, shot him sympathetic glances but stayed quiet. Halfway through the main course, Marvel excused himself. “One moment, gentlemen. Business never sleeps.” He stepped outside for a quick call. When he returned minutes later, he wasn’t alone. Walking beside him was Peter Noir, Elias’s father, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, exuding the calm confidence of someone used to high-stakes rooms. Marvel clapped Peter on the shoulder with forced warmth. “Everyone, allow me to introduce Peter Noir. One of my top investors—sharp mind, excellent returns. We’ve been working together on several key projects.”

It was only going to be for a second… My fingers inched towards the cigars in my right inner pocket. Maybe a smoke would get rid of the damn stiffness I felt. “Don’t even think about it, Serrano,” Acker Madden, the famed fucking ‘Madman’ warned in his posh fucking accent. He seemed not to care about my mood, or what I thought of him. ‘Pity,’ I thought with a glare aimed at his side. He was also the only thing standing in my way. “It was just a thought,” I replied, keeping my tone light and innocent. Not that it would help. The damn bastard was a hound.

She responded. I rolled my eyes. “I would hope as the Don of the italian mafia, that the dude would be ‘scary as fuck’ Badge,” Arrow stated, ignoring the sexy part. “Don’t forget the sexy part Arrow,” She teased back. “Well considering his right hand Evan Amaro goes by the name Machine and owns one of the most successful security companies in the world, then yes the rumors are true.” I too avoided the sexy part. I didn’t owe anything to Aaron, but I still respected that we were intimate with each other. He didn’t need me gawking over Kaden Romano. I would tell Badger how sexy Kade was later when it was just her and I.

Menacing. "You’re in Aspromonte, girl," he said in English, circling her like prey. His gaze was a blade. His eyes, frozen steel. Each step carried unspoken threat. "Look at me." Svetlana lifted her eyes. And saw something in him. Something not human. Something darker. "From this moment on, you belong to Dante Bellandi. You’ll do what he says. When he says. How he says." A choked laugh rose in her throat but twisted into rage. Another mafioso obsessed with her? What the hell was it about her life that attracted psychopaths like flies to blood?

Jasper replied. "So, here's what the boss wants us to do," Ida said, looking up from a file. "We're going in as Mr. Glen's bodyguards." "Who's Mr. Glen?" Zeno asked. He felt weird asking, but he’d only been working for Sebastian for a month. "Mr. Glen is a millionaire who uses his electronic companies as a front for illegal practices," Jasper explained. "Illegal, like drugs?" Zeno asked. He knew drug dealers were merciless.

Is he a part of the Mafia or what? How can someone has brutal as this still exist. Jail he should to to jail. Fuck am calling the police. God......look at that body.... The chest which stood like an holy ground where I won't mind offering a prayer, then the v-line on his hips, just like a call of duty. A duty that would make you want to rip off his towel and show what's hidden behind to the world. Right in front of me is Xavier, well not just Xavier, a naked Xavier.

The guy stood upright. Madison's eyes followed him up, she didn't understand a thing. Am I not too old for this? She thought, looking so frustrated. "What is your name? What do you want from me?" Madison asked him. "Oh, I'm Marco. Nice to meet you, Madison. I'm sorry you had to come into the picture. We need you to lure that devil here." Marco said "Pray he comes for you within 48 hours; if he doesn't, then we'll have to sell you to the Russians and look for another means to get that devil here." The guy sitting stood up and said.

He pried her fingers away from him and stated plainly, “She has been with me for many years. Even a dog is still worthy enough of emotional attachment.” Clarice stumbled backward. Her makeup was smudged with tears. "You'll regret this…” The black Maybach sped away. Clarice's figure began to shrink in the rearview mirror until it vanished into the nighttime horizon. Arthur rolled down the car window to let the cold wind rush in, and yet, it was not enough to tune out the chaotic voices in his head. He received a few more texts from his assistant. “Mr. Renault, we found out that Miss Buccaneer contacted a company specializing in cultural activities in a neighboring city. They refused to disclo

Regan could only shake his head slowly while a faint, wry smile touched his lips as he rounded the car to the driver's seat. No wonder Alexzandrei Constantine was known as a madman. It was a title worn not with shame, but with a certain perverse pride. Regan had seen it for years. He had seen the effortless charm that could disarm a roomful of sharks, the disarming gentle look in his eyes that made people trust him implicitly. It was a masterpiece of a facade, a beautiful, polished veneer that hid the rot beneath.

His dark eyes were cold as winter steel, scanning the opposition with the calculated gaze of a predator assessing its prey. Beside him, Madwolf—Hardhik Yadav—mirrored his position, one leg crossed over the other in a display of synchronized power. Where Avyaan was ice, Hardhik was barely contained fire. His jaw was set in a hard line, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm against his thigh—the only outward sign of the violence simmering just beneath his composed exterior. His reputation preceded him like a shadow; they called him Madwolf not just for his ruthlessness, but for the way he could smell betrayal from miles away.