Sit Down Mafia Mga Nobela at Kwento

“No one here will spill the beans on your presence. We have rules.” I glanced up at him, my eyebrows raised. “Rules?” He smirked. “Remember how I told you about rule number one when we went shopping? Well, this is rule number two: ‘No snitching’.” “What do you mean?” I asked quietly, taking note of how closely I was walking beside Logan, as though he served as some sort of barrier against the other attendees. “I mean,” he said, casually draping his arm around my shoulders, “everyone here is part of the mafia or some other criminal organization. They don’t give a shit if some billionaire’s daughter is here, and that’s if they even notice you—which they won’t. No offense.”

Scanning the room, I spotted Dexter, barely noticeable in his black attire and face cap. I had wanted to meet at a bar, but Dexter insisted on a coffee shop…less prying eyes from other mafia lords. Mafia lords were mostly found in a bar, not a fucking barbie coffee shop. I sat down across from him, accepting the cup of coffee offered by a blonde waitress. “How secure is this place?” I asked, feeling a little bit uncomfortable. Dexter grinned, his smile unnerving. “Half the people here aren’t regular customers. They’re armed to the teeth,” he said, sipping his coffee.

Sometimes, I’d try to talk to him, offer a light comment or a gentle smile, but he’d only look at me with those cold piercing eyes of him and remind me of our arrangement. “Don’t get carried away, Joan. This is business, nothing more,” he’d say, and each time, it felt like a knife twisting in my chest. But tonight… tonight felt different. I’d been walking down the hall, just trying to clear my head, when I heard voices. My curiosity got the better of me. I slipped into the shadows near the doorway and saw Derrick, standing with his right hand men, Santi and Ace. I was too far away to make out everything, but phrases floated over to me, the words “mafia,” “Godfathers,” and “pressure.” My hear

My father beamed with pride. The walk back to the office was quiet. The Russian Mafia is not to be fucked with. Our mafia is ranked one of the most powerful, along with the Italians, but the Russian Mafia easily has us outnumbered. They’re allied with the French mainly, and those two mafias on their own car devour us. I entered the office and made my way to the sofa, while my father sat behind his desk, his hand still on his chin. A pose he often does when he’s thinking.

“I’m going to see Rachel this afternoon. However, now we have some things to advertise. There’s been a lot of stalled work since Rafael Wagner died.” Lucas massaged his forehead. Rafael Wagner is the leader of one of the largest mafia networks in the world. Rafael’s underground network grips tightly to the ground, powerful without anyone knowing its strength. The ElWagner clan is the center of all underground networks. Ranging from small-scale mafia to international cross-country mafia, they must know ElWagner’s strength even though they have never seen him in person.

The meeting was set in an opulent villa deep in the Italian countryside, a neutral territory chosen to ensure no single family had the upper hand. The grandeur of the estate, with its frescoed ceilings and marble columns, was a stark contrast to the tension that hummed in the air. This was no mere gathering—it was a summit of power brokers in the mafia world, led by the formidable Valentin Marconi.

Several men, ranging from their thirties to fifties, sat around on the couches, all deeply engaged in whatever one of them was saying. My heart skipped a beat when my eyes locked onto one of them. He stood behind a man sitting on the couch, his arms crossed. His expression screamed ‘don’t mess with me,’ and I quickly looked away. His eyes had ‘KILLER’ written all over them. Every man in here either had tattoos peeking out from their black suits or marks on their knuckles. With that simple observation, I didn’t need anyone to tell me that I’d just walked into a room full of Mafias.

Vincent sighed, poking his inner cheek, clearly annoyed by their discussion on this topic. "Because I have some brain cells, but those Mafia bosses who never try to use their brain." Luca mocked him. They only talk like this when they don't have any business discussion but only a friendship bond. They were sitting on the big massive couch of the club. The one where only VIPs are allowed and that's the one and only Domano Club. More specifically, it was for the Mafia's gate to gather where only Mafia people are allowed. Luca was enjoying the stripper's dance which was played in front of them. Where Vincent was lost in his own thoughts of the chain as he stared blankly at Luca.

There were already three men seated waiting for us, the whole floor was booked for today as there were only people from mafia dining, every person there were armed. I could see the staff working there was scared because anytime anyone sitting there could decide to fire and this place will be a pool of blood. I took a seat next to my father uninterested in the business he was here for. Drinks were served with starters and I studied the whole place, I noticed that there were people from other mafia gangs too and then for a second I thought that can he be here too?

Some mafia members hailed James by standing up from their seats. As usual, he would occupy the dining table in the middle of the room, after which all members would sit back down. A few maids then came in and served their decent lunch for the dozens of elite members who had arrived while other lower-level members would eat outside. It is because of the limited space in the house.