Matteo Mafia Novels & Stories

he muttered, piquing Spade's interest. He leaned on the table intertwining his fingers in front of him "Oh now you're interested"? Matteo mocked and he just rolled his eyes "Stop messing around Teo" he muttered and the blonde just ignored him and went to picking his finger, he sighed out watching him. Sometimes he wonders what made him pick Matteo as his second in command, infact Matteo held all the open positions he had in his mafia, he was his underboss, his conglomerate and his tech guy.

But when I turned around, it wasn’t him. It was Murphy. My whole body froze. He walked toward me casually, hands in his pockets, a lazy smirk on his lips. My fists clenched by instinct, though I didn’t know what I could do with them. I was scared, any sane person would be, but I wasn’t going to show it. “You’re one of Bruno’s men, right?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. He tilted his head and gave a half-smile. “Yeah. I run a few of Bruno’s businesses in Colombia.”

it grew from bad to worse when I was kidnapped by a mafia leader. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Everyone is already aware of my barely contained fury. "What do you all have for me?" I demanded, scanning the faces before me. "That fucker broke into my house, my house that was supposed to be safe, and fucking took Aria from her bed. So you all better start talking or heads will be rolling." Viktor always the first to speak stepped forward, tablet in hand. "Riccardo Lion, mid-thirties, Albanian origin but operates primarily out of New York and Vegas. He's made significant inroads into our territory over the past year, mostly loan sharking and money laundering through casinos."

Luca The moment the phone rang, I knew. It wasn’t intuition, not exactly. More like the old animal sense I’d honed over decades a bone-deep awareness that everything you love has an expiration date. I watched the screen light up. Matteo’s name. My hand hovered over the answer button for a single heartbeat before I picked up. “What happened?” My voice came out colder than I intended. “Signore,” Matteo said, and in that one word I heard everything every alarm bell I’d tried to ignore for days. “There’s been an incident.”

It was the woman who made the dessert who was occupying his mind. He’d been stunned when she’d plopped the phone down and Furio Matrone introduced himself. At first, he’d wondered how she’d known the man. Matrone’s father was known to be one of the most barbaric mafia leaders in the world. One rumored story he’d heard as a boy visiting Italy with his paternal grandparents, involved a tale about tourists who made the mistake of asking to speak to Severino Matrone and take photographs with him because he was some kind of internet obsession for people who thought the criminal world was a romantic daydream. He’d shot them both right in the heads with nothing more than a “you don’t deserve to say

“But I have other aspirations in life. Becoming a mafia wife was never part of my plan.” “Watch your words when you speak of my son,” Mirella warned without looking at her, her attention fixed on the painting as if each word she spoke was just another stroke of the brush. “Dante isn’t just a simple mafioso, as you say. He is the leader of the ’Ndrangheta. The mere mention of the Bellandi name makes lesser men tremble. Don’t get it twisted, girl.” Her tone was soft, but every syllable carried a sharp edge—a reminder that Svetlana was a foreigner in a world that didn’t belong to her.

For the first time, the raw, terrifying past hidden behind those luxurious suits, those enormous yachts in the Mediterranean, that possessive and arrogant mafia leader aura, was laid bare before me. "What is this, Matteo?" I whispered, the earlier, cheeky, Pucca-like tone vanishing from my voice. "Weren't you... from one of Naples' noble and established families? Everyone said you were born a count." Matteo took a deep, dark breath that shook his chest. He slowly placed his Glock pistol on the control panel. The sound of the metal hitting the table echoed in the silence as he fixed his eyes on the old, bloody photograph on the screen. There was no regret or shame on his dark face; on the con

“You think this is just some powerful CEO with control issues?” Lucas frowned. “What are you talking about?” Jamie’s heart pounded. This was the line. Once crossed— No going back. He looked directly at Matteo. Then back at Lucas. “They’re not businessmen,” Jamie said clearly. Silence. Matteo didn’t interrupt. That was worse. Lucas’ brows drew together. “Jamie—” “They’re mafia.” The word landed like a dropped glass. Stillness swallowed the room. Even the guards shifted. Lucas stared at him.

So, he continues "I was the leader of American mafia. My real name is 'STEVEN KNIGHT' not Steven Moritz. Aidan's father 'Eric uncle' and your grandpa were alliances. During our childhood, we lived all together. Both the families were the envious of them all. Dad handled American mafia whereas Eric uncle had Canada and Mexico under his control. It was the most powerful mafia clan. Everyone feared them. But we were a happy loving family until the day, when we lost dad and uncle. You know sweetheart, power comes with its own thorns. Once you got the hunger of power, you can't back away. There's only destruction after that. In mafia nothing matters just the power. The more powerful you are the l