Sant'eustachio

Two Mafia bosses and one Angel. Two sadistic men and one innocent young lady. A war of love and revenge. Blood is bound to flow, numerous deaths is certain and beautiful love will surely blossom. *** Iris Saint, a lovely christian lady never thought her life would be hanging on a thin line when she unknowingly stole the hearts of two Mafia bosses. Both the Italian Mafia Boss, Maximo Santino and the Russian Mafia Boss, Konstantin Dmitri. Her heart only call for one of them and she would do anything to have him but the other won't let her off. Maximo Santino is the only one her heart desire but Konstantin Dmitri vow never to let anyone have her if he wouldn't. The battle for the gorgeous meek lady isn't bound to end unless one of the Mafia Boss left the living. Who would it be? Who would win Iris Saint at the end. Would it be Maximo Santino or Konstantin Dmitri ? ... Find out!

Every Christmas Eve in Port Saint Giovanni, the Camerlano family hosts the Claiming Rite at Saint Giovanni Manor. Twelve girls stand in a line. Whoever receives the white-gold signet pin becomes the heir’s publicly acknowledged bride candidate. I am Grace Sorrento, the bastard daughter of the Sorrento family. If I do not receive that signet tonight, by sunrise I will be put on a plane to Chicago and married off to a Rizzo, a man rumored to have killed two former fiancées. Adrian Camerlano, the boy I grew up with, swore to me in blood three days ago that the signet would be mine. But when the moment came, his hand turned. With a smile, he pinned it on Lucia, the orphan his family had sponsored. Then he leaned close to my ear. "Let Lucia have her moment. No one has ever really looked at her before. Don’t worry. This is my estate. No one will dare arrange your marriage without my say." I grabbed his sleeve, but he removed my fingers one by one. "Lucia has no roots and no last name. Tonight is all she has. But you are a Sorrento. Even without the signet, no one will touch you." That phrase, no last name, drew every gaze in the ballroom toward me, full of pity and quiet mockery. The next morning, I boarded a flight to Chicago. When Adrian heard, he made one call to Port Saint Giovanni Air Control. "Ground every plane. Nothing leaves today!"

At the age of Twenty two, Sophia Romanov wanted nothing but a complete family. Her mother leaving them for another family at a tender age.. didn't do them any good. But just one night..changed everything. The little family she had began to bring together was torn away by her fucking Master. Her father sold her out! ~••~ 'You're a fucking liar. My father never lets anyone on this floor. No matter who you are, he doesn't let anyone on this fucking floor.' I glared at my phone. Oh how I wanted to strangle his neck and kill him. I could still hear the comment on my pajamas. His fucking deep voice that no one could actually forget. 'Well, I'm not just anyone sweetie. How would you feel if I were to tell you that...your father could give you up with just a word from me." He typed. I glared at the sentence, reading every word with pure distaste. 'Who are you? God? Lucifer? Go rear ducks or shit fucking lullabies, stronzo. You're not even a man such as L'Angelo.' I scoffed, wishing there was a way I'd record it and let him hear it. "Oh, pardon me sweetie..where are manners.' He typed again. 'They call me L'Angelo Morte.' L'Angelo! #The first book of the Fulleta series #Ivy

Araceli has spent her entire life sheltered within the church, raised under the watchful and rather twisted guidance of Father Ambrose who was like the only family she has ever known. But just after turning eighteen, she is given away to a man she believes is the great love God has destined for her. With unwavering faith and a heart full of hope, she steps into what she thinks is her wedding, only to be humiliated when she discovers the truth. The man she was promised to is marrying someone else. Shattered and alone, she flees into the unknown, desperate for refuge. That’s when she crosses paths with Luciano Salvatore. To her innocent eyes, he seems like a savior. But Araceli has unknowingly walked straight into the arms of the devil himself. And the devil has no intention of letting her go. What started as a mere intrigue grows into a deep desire and dark obsession that makes a man go mad and go to insane lengths to keep his little saint by him.

They say Don Julian Marconi would burn the world for one tear of mine. Five years ago, at the Met Gala, he spent millions to hang emeralds around my neck and swore I was his Madonna. Five years later, beneath the velvet boxes of our anniversary, I found a lace strap soaked in sin—and a fresh, crimson smear on his collar that told me exactly whose bed he’d left. I smiled. I asked him to sign a blank sheet of paper. And that meant he was agreeing to whatever I wanted. He called it love. I called it the death warrant for his empire. In fifteen days, I finalized our divorce papers. I boarded the Stella d’Oro as Serena Cole and burned Celeste Marconi to ash on the deck. Then I vanished with his fortune, his power and the one secret that would destroy him. I was the saint he worshipped. Now I am the ghost who haunts him. No groveling. No forgiveness. No second chance. Just ashes.

In the Valentino family, the rules were absolute—the title of Don passed only to the eldest son of the eldest line. On the day I was due to give birth, my water broke. The contractions came faster and harder, each wave of pain stronger than the last, until my consciousness began to drift. The baby's head was already crowning. Renato knelt beside the bed, gripping my hand, his eyes filled with what looked like heartbreak. I thought he would be my strength—my anchor. But through the haze, I heard him speaking to the midwife. "Control the dosage. Just delay Ellen's delivery for three hours." "But she is already fully dilated. Forcibly delaying it could be dangerous…" The midwife's voice trembled. "It's fine. She wasn't due yet anyway. She only went into labor because she secretly used induction drugs. Delaying the birth will only benefit her." Disbelief crashed over me. I tried with everything I had to speak—to explain. But then I saw him glance at his watch, murmuring to himself, "My sister-in-law is only five centimeters dilated. If we stall for three hours, my brother's child will be the eldest grandson. This is a promise I made to my brother." Terror seized me. I tried to struggle, but the needle had already pierced my skin. In an instant, the child that had been about to emerge was forced violently back into my body. The pain doubled, twisting through me like a storm. Darkness swallowed my vision, and I lost consciousness. When I came to, I had been dragged into an underground storage room. Only after his sister-in-law's son had been safely born did Renato remember me. When he returned—holding the toy he had personally made for our soon-to-be-born child—and ordered his assistant to bring me back to the operating room… All he found were two cold, lifeless bodies.