O Crime Do Padre Amaro Novels & Stories

My palms moistened with my arousal. God, I was being turned on by just the sight of her, which was strange because I never desired a woman twice—but what wasn’t strange about me when it came to Amara? I, Nero De Santoro, had spent the last fucking months looking for a woman. “Oh good. There you are!” she breathed when her eyes fell on me. She presently had a guard by the hair. Seeing me, she pulled harder then slammed his head into a pillar. He collapsed unconscious. She spat on him.

Armando thought. “Arrest of Armando? I think you’re wrong sir,” Edmund said, trying to defend Armando, and made his son-in-law smile again. “Hmm, it turns out that this idiot is still defending me. I’ll just take advantage of it,” Armando thought. “Yes sir, you must be wrong, how could I commit to a crime,” Armando said arrogantly. “You’d better explain it at the office,” one of the officers said. Neither Armando nor Edmund insisted that the police officer had made a mistake. They stick to their argument which says that Armando can’t do anything wrong and harmful.

“It’s my father’s worst nightmare. If he could keep us at war with one another—hating and distrusting each other—we couldn’t be at war with him.” I thought about my father. “I can’t imagine a father wanting his children to hate one another. I miss my siblings. I’m excited that Camila is coming to visit soon.” I wanted to ask more questions. There were subjects about which I’d yet to ask. “Vincent’s harsh parenting must have worked. Papá said he heard you became a made man at thirteen.” Dario held out his right arm, twisting it and showing me a scar on his forearm. “That’s from the omertá—the ceremony.”

"And I swear, she's untouched. Completely clean. The Don will be very satisfied." "Look," he pleaded, "I'm even giving up my girl. So about that debt I owe you..." The man's eyes were flat as they scanned me, showing nothing. My hope vanished. He didn't recognize me. I remembered my father had been recruiting foreign muscle lately. They didn't follow the old family traditions. They only cared about money. The bald man, Rocco, walked up to me and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up. "Open your mouth," he ordered.

I found myself stealing glances at Riccardo a few too many times, and each time, he was already looking at me. "Where's Padre?" Bento asked, scanning the table as if he thought their father might appear any second. Amara tensed at the question, and for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of worry on her face before she quickly covered it up with an overly bright smile. She avoided looking at Bento, instead taking a slow sip from her wine glass, her fingers shaking just a bit. "He's working late," she said, her tone oddly calm. "Nothing to stress about."

He noticed the gloss in her eyes, but she was trying so hard not to let it show. “You really do remind me of her,” Diego muttered. Amora frowned slightly. She didn’t understand what he meant. “Mr. Lorenzo, I know you don’t approve of me because of my status. You don’t think I’m good enough for your son,” Amora said openly. She didn’t bother sugarcoating her words to win him over. What good would that do against someone like Diego Lorenzo—the head of a mafia organization? Sweet talk wouldn’t sway a man with a heart of steel.

Adan I stormed down the hallway and pushed both doors open at the end. Outside, limos waited by the Main Gate. I headed toward them, and Fernando Amaro stepped out of his car and buttoned his suit coat, flanked by two bodyguards who stepped discretely to the side. He was young to be a Mafia Don, but who am I to judge? “Don Amaro!” I smiled, extending my hand as I walked through the gates. They had no clue about the supernatural world, and I aimed to keep it that way. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Stacey pulled out her gun and pointed it at the old man. Smiling menacingly, the old man walked towards her, as he replied: "Alvaro Amaro…" he then turned and pointed at his son who was seated on the sofa, and continued: "And this is Albert Amaro, my son." Stacey's heart skipped a beat just by hearing that name. She had heard about the crime Lord Alvaro Amaro. A very dangerous man. And he was now in their house. But why? "Stacey put the gun down!" Mrs Gwendolyn, demanded. Knowing that if Stacey fires the gun for any reason, it will be the end of their family, there will be no coming back.

“Do you always take your time when your father’s life is on the line?” Amara’s mouth opened, but no words came. He walked toward her slowly, predatory. The room seemed to shrink with each step. “I—I'm here,” she whispered. “You said... if I came, you’d let him go.” He tilted his head, studying her. “I said I’d consider it.” Her eyes flashed. “You’re a liar.” A low chuckle escaped him, dark and amused. “I’m a mafia king, tesoro. Not a priest.”

Ricardo's expression turned cold “You heard me, mom will be in Paris too watching you, if you hurt that girl… I'll forget who you are…do you understand me, Ricardo Romero,” Armando said in a dark tone and stood face to face with Ricardo? His gaze was dark and piercing that Ricardo stayed put. He didn't forget the black dragon, the mafia man before him. Ricardo knew any better than to say anything in front of Armando, knowing he was still a crazy mafia. it took time for Ricardo to finally accept he was a Romero too