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Kidnapped by the Italian Mafia

Do you ever wonder what your life will be like when you cross paths with your arch nemesis? Yes? Well buckle up, it’s a wild ride. Katarina Montenegro is what everyone would simply call spoiled. She was raised with a silver spoon in her mouth and a custom Tiffany’s diamond tiara on her head. She was referred to as The Spanish Princess by everyone who knew of her existence, and she revelled in the nickname. She was young, cunning, and powerful. There was nothing Katarina wanted that she didn’t have. On the other hand, Marco DiBiancci was known by everyone as The Emperor Lynx, due to his ability to see through deception as easily as he could breathe. Unlike Katarina, who lived a mainly pampered life, Marco was raised by a strict father who wanted him to be in the front lines of the job since he was fourteen years old. He had spent his years getting his hands dirty and washing them again. He was young, strong, and powerful. There was nothing Marco wanted that he didn’t take for himself. The common ground? They were both set to inherit their father’s thrones as King and Queen of their respective organised crime kingdoms. The problem? Marco wanted Katarina, or more importantly, he wanted what she was set to lay claim on. Even though the two had never met, Marco was determined to get his hands on her by all means necessary, and that’s how we’re here. This is how I, Katarina Montenegro, was kidnapped by the Italian mafia. [WARNING: highly foul language and mature themes]

SugaryWinter · Urban
Not enough ratings
203 Chs

The Visitors (4)

"EXCUSE ME?!" Moira screamed in my face while I sat on a sofa in the living room of the penthouse we had recently leased so that we would have some place to live other than the house which my new 'workers' were currently inhabiting. Back relaxed, llegs crossed and ever so calmly sipping some white wine like everything was right with the world and as if my best friend wasn't screaming bloody murder at me.

"I knew I should have gone with you today. I knew it." Henri was pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning solemnly. By the way that little vein in his temple throbbed, I could tell that he wanted to scream, but he was holding back, maybe for the sake of decency. Or maybe he just didn't want to yell at me out of respect because I knew by the way his arms were bulging in their sleeves that he wanted to ram me through several brick walls. Not that I would mind or anything. He could ran me against a wall anyt—