The Mafia King Broken Rose Novels & Stories

Putting on a cardigan, she was soon following her to the gardens, next to the lilies that had her question everything some time ago. Digging into the steaming cookies always felt like such a bliss – a touch of sweetness, a delicacy, right in the middle of chaos. And yet, they did nothing to soothe her troubled mind. Instead, they brought her to tears once more. “The young master’s different, Rose,” Flora began in a sweet tone of voice, never once commenting on her tears. “And I mean to say that even among mafia men, the young master is different. He never cared to have multiple partners, had only had that leach for years because she somewhat understood what he needed.”

Vallea sat tied to the chair her hair hung over her face. The water was thrown over her She slowly opened her eyes they cut hair. "Good afternoon Vallea it’s nice to see you are finally with us." "Who are you?" "I’m Nicolo Russo. The maffia king." Oh great a fucking ameture. "You are not the Mafia king, my brother Matteo Robustelli is." "I am and you should remember that.’ "Why am I here?" "You are here as bate, my princess."

“You should have done your research beforehand. Perhaps you won’t fail stealing from another mafia.” He grunted. “Who are you?” She finally withdrew her gun and squatted down to his level. The confidence of this woman was beyond me. “Allow me to introduce myself. La regina. The queen of the mafia.” His chuckle was taunting yet with desperation. “There is no queen in the mafia.”

In that moment, the cold, ruthless Mafia King seemed to falter, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the monster – a man haunted by a ghost, chained by a tragic past. He reached out, his hand, despite its power, surprisingly gentle as it placed the rose in her unresisting fingers. His fingertips brushed hers, and a jolt, like a tiny electric current, passed between them. Amara flinched, not from fear, but from the unexpected intimacy of the contact. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, as if surprised by his own action, by his own vulnerability. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the moment shattered. The tenderness vanished, replaced by the familiar mask of granite. His lips thinned,

She said but I barely heard a word she said after she mention Marcello. I was actually with Marcello Romano, the mafia king of Sicily! I started sweating, felt unable to breath so I rushed out of the café to catch some fresh air and wrap my mind around this earth shattering revelation. Marcello Romano took care of me. He could had taken advantage of me but he didn’t. Either, he’s only pretending to be a gentleman to gain my trust or he’s really a nice person and I have judged him wrongly. With these conflicting thoughts, I didn’t realize when it started pouring and I was about to rush back into the café when a van stopped and before I could understand anything, two masked men jumped out and

Alessandro sat there, holding a bloodstained crown in one hand and a note in the other. He read: "Leave the mafia king's position willing, or be taken down. Blood has been spilled, yours is next!"

After that, I turned around and walked out of the room, my face expressionless. “Rose!” she rushed to my feet as I yelled, frightened at the sound of her name. “Good morning, sir,” she murmured, bowing to me. “Check on my kitten and see what she needs. Make sure she’s dressed appropriately for the occasion,” I said, and she nodded before walking into Molly’s room. I come from a long line of brutal mafia the kings, but we dabbled in regular business as well. Gambling and drug peddling were part-time jobs.

I whispered to him. "You just scared me earlier, I don't want you to be around my work." he said quickly. I looked into his eyes, they were raw with emotion. I could tell that he really meant what he was saying. "I understand, and I'm sorry for what I said to you earlier." I told him breaking eye contact. If I am being truthful, I do feel really bad about what I said earlier. This is just what his life is, and I have no right to judge him. I too am from a mafia family, except my papa has always been really good at keep his "work" at work.

Or was it because of Rose? No. It couldn’t be about her. I didn’t care what happened to her in this place. She was nothing more than a means to an end—a pawn to settle her father’s debt. Whatever we had in the past was gone. Erased. My actions weren’t for Rose. They were a reminder. A warning. A statement. I was still the boss. The mafia don. A force no one dared challenge. And Rose… She would learn that soon enough. A smirk tugged at my lips. Nothing stayed hidden from me forever.

I wanted to stop, but it felt so good that I felt safe in those moments. Viktor's hand slid lower, gripping my thigh like he owned every inch of me. The kiss, his touch, all of that had left me shaking. I hated how much I needed it. I hated how aroused I was. I felt the need for the man who was paid to break me. Viktor looked straight into my eyes and whispered, "The list your father sent. My name is on it too, just next to yours. He promised me a bonus if I can break you completely."