Russian Mob Stars Novels & Stories

His eyes are the color of fresh leaves, and they meet mine for just a second before he looks away. But it’s the tattoos that catch my attention. Intricate designs weave across his arms and chest, each one telling a story I’m not yet privy to. And then there are the Bratva stars on his shoulders; the ones my father told me about what they signify. They’re markers of high rank within the Russian mafia. Those stars should’ve been the dead giveaway of who Roman really is—someone not to be trifled with, someone who has lived a life far more complicated than I’d imagined. Not normal, flirtatious Jay.

All I could think about was ways on how to kill that son of a bitch. It's been years since me and Enzo have been planning to take him down. Vladimir Molotov is the Leader of the Russian Mafia, the second most powerful mafia after the Italians. The Italians and The Russians have been at war for longer than I can remember. But the main reasons why Enzo wanted Vladimir gone was because first, he was a threat and secondly, he killed Enzo's sister.

Hard. "I'm not a whore, Eron Castile. You're in the mafia right? That's why you don't want me to know what you do. You speak Spanish and Italian at the same time so you think you have power over all the women in this world, but guess what? You can't own me, you dumb fuck. Enjoy." I ranted​, squatting down almost immediately and pulling down his zipper. I pushed it lower and dragged down his boxer briefs, gasping as his erect cock sprung out, almost slapping my face.

Mr Pompous chuckled gently and I could hear him click his tongue before responding to Dale. "It would take more than the Bratva to murder me" Bratva again? Wasn't that some sort of confraternity in Russia or-- No... I remember now. It's the Russian mafia. "The Russian Mafia" Whenever I'm lost in thought, I often speak without realizing it, and this is the second time it's happening around Mr. Pompous. He turned slowly to me revealing the darkness around his eyes which made me gulp heavily. "They have no regard for the king of the Underground. By the way, how is Sofia Dante?" I could still hear Dale from the other end even though Mr. Pompous had his deadly stares at me.

I copy the text and head to my translation app where I converted the words to English. My eyes quickly roam across the screen as I read. The reports from the website reads that Dima Kozlov is the top oligarch in Russia who owns a factory that produces weapons and some other shady things. He runs the street of Russia and is the main ruler of the underworld. Holy Moly. I’m all but a nervous wreck at the information I just read. That means…he's a mafia if I am to qualify it with an English word. From the books I’ve read, the Russian Mafioso are referred to as Bratva.

He's in the elevator alone. Arriving at Mr. Charles's room, the old man handed over data on prospective hotel buyers, "I investigated, here is the name of the buyer!" he said. Sean took the data, he read the name and there was a photo of the man. "He's a black mobster, in the drug business, it must be difficult to persuade him to cancel the purchase." Mr. Charles looked pessimistic. "It's not easy to approach him, he is Tobias Russel, a mafia from Russia," said Mr. Charles again.

They walked to the door, their shoulders brushing in the narrow doorway. " We'll be back later," Mikhail said, before disappearing into the hallway. The door clicked shut, leaving me and Lydia alone again. " Well," Lydia said, breaking the silence. " That was... domestic." " Don't start," I warned, my patience wearing thin. " I'm just saying," she said, raising her hands in mock surrender. " The big bad Russian mobster is wrapped around your little finger." " He's not," I retorted, but even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.

“He’s been looking at you all weird and shit since you got here, and you've also been looking at him all weird and shit since you got here. Do you know him by any chance?” Sometimes I forget how perceptive Cara can be. Since she has never met Nikolai I don't expect her to guess who he is immediately. A Lot of the people in the parking lot, including the girls who are still gawking in his direction, have probably never seen him before. His presence here doesn't stir the same reaction as it would've if it were Antonio or Alessandro in his place. While the Moretti's have already made their mark as one of the most feared groups in Chicago, The Russian mafia was still somewhat new to the scene, e

I was fortunate enough to study information regarding monsters last night, when I felt like I didn’t possess enough knowledge about this world. And this, this... THING in front of me is the reason why I nitpick about the unfairness of giving informations about this world. I unconsciously heaved a long sigh. There’s nothing I can do about it now, can I? Saying from a side character’s point of view, or A.K.A, the mob character of this world that deserves living for the first several chapters, I didn’t have that priority over other main characters. “So...” I eyed the lifeless polar bear slash rabbit monster in front of me. This strange thing that the author came up with actually has its own nam

“If not now, then never.” We start the night off by menwatching – observing the men in the club, and trying to decide who has the most money. Sasha bets on the overweight baldie with gold chains on his neck, and I bet on the Russian mobster looking dude, wearing sweatpants. “I think I actually saw him once at the club.” I say, smiling at the mobster, who stands up and starts to make his way towards me, pushing through the sea of half-naked and drunk people to get to me.