Youngest Mafia Boss Novels & Stories

“I’m sixteen. I’ll graduate in two years. When I do, I’ll have more time to work for my boss.” As I stared at him, I wondered what a sixteen-year-old was doing, working for the mafia. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen such a young boy in the mafia, but it was the first time I gave it a proper thought. Like mine, were his parents also dead? Did they get murdered? Did they get in an accident? Was his story as horrible as mine?

My heart stopped, my mind racing as I realized the depth of his suspicion. “I didn’t know,” I I stepped back, breaking his touch, my hands clenching into fists. “But if you think I had something to do with his death, you’re wrong. I was eight, Misha. I wasn’t even old enough to know what the Bratva was.”

I growled, voice cold, “I’ll kill you all before the second bullet leaves your gun.” The leader stepped forward, his face shadowed under the moonlight. “Who the hell sent you?” I demanded, finger steady on the trigger. The men stayed silent, their guns still pointed. My muscles tensed, my heartbeat steady and cold. The playful warmth from seconds ago was gone — replaced by the side of me I always tried to keep buried when she was around. Mafia boss. Killer. Damon Moretti. And whoever sent these men just made the biggest mistake of their lives.

Bernard was beside me as well, not behaving like the pussy I had thought he was. The gangsters finally alighted from the six cars and I knew their boss was present at that moment I couldn't wait to meet him since no one dared to stop me and if the boss ended up being someone lower in rank than me the mafia world, I would waste my sweet million Euro bullet into his hand. One of the gangsters opened the car and I expected their boss to alight from the car which he finally did. I stopped my stern gaze at the gangster boys as I watched the leader who seemed to be in his early fifties, he took off his sunglasses and I recognized him at once.

I interrupted firmly. Dad sighed before speaking with unmistakable relief, “Good. Your mother and I never thought that the underboss was reliable to begin with. He’s just a mid-level leader, yet so arrogant. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was the Don.” Then, he continued, “Do you remember Julian Rossi? The mafia boss based in Florence, Italy?” My phone buzzed as he sent me a photo. The man in it was tall and striking, with sharp features and an imposing presence.

If anything, my years as dispatcher had taught me resilience. Where did a man with no digital footprint conduct his real business? I hesitated and breached regional security clearance files. My breath caught. Got him. His pictures flooded my screen. Devastating photos, each one carrying an unsettling energy. The kind that could make good women ignore their instincts. The file expanded and my blood turned cold. Dominic Morvanti was one of the largest weapons manufacturers in the region. The man who made me feel seen. The man who called me Little Bird. The man who looked at me like I was precious.

Her siblings still unaware of the tidal wave about to hit them. That was before everything fell apart. The embezzlement scandal. The lawsuits. The media storm. The betrayal from people they once trusted. It all happened so fast, the Narciso name collapsing under the weight of corporate deceit and public shame. Her father’s reputation shredded, her mother trying to hold the family together with trembling hands, and her younger siblings forced to leave school. They were drowning. And no one was coming to save them. No one… except for one name: Salvador.

That was what I was. And Enzo kissed the hypocrite softly and passionately, like broken glass he needed to fix. I had a dead ex-husband, a sick son. Of course, I was broken glass. But he was Enzo Moretti, mafia gang leader, owner of a dynasty, and the top boss of the biggest drug cartel in New York. And I was staining his record. He had some political interests to meet and I was dragging him into mud by being with him. Enzo’s lips brushed mine as we took a breather, not full but not starving anymore. At that moment, with Enzo rubbing my skin and staring at me with love, I imagined this being the last time I got to hold him.

“A drug gang.” Her jaw clenched. “You run a drug gang?” I nodded once. “Yes.” A beat of silence. Then— “You run a fucking drug gang??” Her voice rose, and I swore Ivy twitched in her crib. “Kelly…” She threw her hands up. “Oh, so you’re not just some CEO, or a businessman, or a mysterious man who works late nights, you’re a whole drug lord??” I dragged a hand down my face. “Not lord. That’s dramatic.”

Sebastian said as he excused himself. "Business again?" Dante asked Fred who nodded in reply. What could it possibly be about? "So? Impressed yet?" Leo asked, wiggling his brows. "Impressed is an understatement. What exactly do they do?" "Business and same work as boss." "They are mafias too?" Dante asked in a whisper and Leo nodded. "So the young master is like a Mafia boss too?" Fred laughed. "Nope. He's the youngest son of the family. His older brothers, Gerald and Ronald, take care of the family business. Though Gerald is the next in line, being the eldest."