บททั้งหมดของ The Mafia King’s Queen : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

My father raised me to be a king.Not a princess, not a pawn in some arranged marriage , not a pretty daughter paraded out for alliances . I was the only child of Alessandro D'Angelo, one the most feared mafia don, and he raised me to be his heir—his successor.I was taught to shoot before I was taught to ride a bicycle. Taught to snap a man's wrist before I was taught to dance. By the age of thirteen, I had learned the names of all the great families and how to kill them best.He turned me ruthless. He turned me deadly. He turned me unstoppable.And yet, somehow, I was standing opposite Rocco De Luca—the most ruthless man in the underworld—and he was staring at me as if I were a puzzle he wished to disassemble.The air was filled with the scent of sweat, blood, and whiskey.Underground fight clubs existed—raw, unfiltered, and brutal. The warehouse, dimly lit, was full of it. The horde of men roared as fists landed against flesh, as bones cracked under sadistic force.I was in the VIP

RoccoThe scent of coffee and freshly baked bread hung in the air, along with something sugary, most likely what Rosalia had insisted the chef make. I was seated at the oversized dining table, watching as Rafael poured his wife's coffee as if it was the most natural thing in the world.It still surprised me.My brother, the same one who shot a man in the head without batting an eye, was now the kind of husband who poured coffee for his wife before serving himself.Rosalia smiled and said something to him that I didn't quite catch, and Rafael responded by leaving a kiss on her temple.Gross."You're making that face again," Riccardo told me, smiling as he picked up a piece of bread."What face?" I grumbled."The one where you appear to have swallowed glass.""Maybe I did."Riccardo smiled, shaking his head, but Rafael was blind to us, all focus on his wife."Do you need something more, mia rosa?" he asked her, voice lower than I ever recalled hearing before.Rosalia glanced up at him,

RoccoI shrugged my shoulders, tension still coiled tight in muscles as I kicked over the final corpse.The club smelled of gunpowder and death.I hated it when crap like this happened. Not so much because of the mess, but because it meant loose ends. And I did not like loose ends.The boss, a sleazy bastard named Jeggins lingered around the door to the VIP room, sweating hard in his expensive suit. He looked nervously from the body to me and back again, waiting for orders.I lit a cigarette, taking my sweet time to puff on it, inhaling deeply before I finally spoke."Handle it."Jeggins flinched. "Oh, certainly, Mr. De Luca. I—I'll assign my best people to cleanup immediately."“I don't care how you do it," I said, exhaling smoke. "Just make it so no one recalls this ever happening. I don't want whispers. I don't want gossip. And I sure as shit don't want cops in my face.""Understood.""Good.".I looked around the rest of the club. The music had stopped. The patrons who hadn't been

RoccoI saw her tighten her fingers around the phone before shoving it into her pocket, her face hollow.Too empty.As if she were holding something within.The blood was still wet on the ground, the metallic smell hanging thick in the air. The head of the dead man was twisted to one side, his eyes open wide, his face frozen in the instant of dying. Whoever had killed him wanted to make a point.And Fiorella was the intended recipient.I scoffed, raking a hand through my features. "You must've gotten on the wrong guy's bad side, D'Angelo."She didn't even blink an eyelash. "That's what happens when you're good at what you do."I rolled my eyes, pacing around the body, trying not to dirty my shoes with blood. "You're not hearing me. Someone wants to kill you. You think I'm going to tie myself to that mess?"She turned to me then, eyes sharp and assessing. The dim warehouse lights caught the streaks of dried blood on her shoulder from the earlier gunfight, but she didn’t seem to feel it

RoccoThe second the front door shut behind me, I discarded my jacket, stained with blood that was not my own, and tossed it over the armchair.The house was quiet.Not for long, though.Footsteps echoed down the marble hallway. Riccardo was the first to appear, always the first to sniff out turmoil before it could make an entrance. His sharp eyes swept over me, hovering on the dark smudges on my shirt."You look like hell," he said as a matter of fact."You should've seen the other guys."Rafael wasn't far behind. He strolled in slow, calm, calculated, but I knew that calm was always a cover. A storm brewed inside, one only Rosalia could seem to calm."What happened?" Rafael's voice was quiet but authoritative.I collapsed into the leather armchair and stretched out my legs. "My lovely meeting with the D'Angelo princess turned into a goddamn war zone."Riccardo’s eyebrows furrowed. "Explain."“Her house was attacked, As we were leaving. Bullets through the windows. Men inside the hou