
The Mafia King's Obsession.
When April Morgan wipes spilled beer from her face at Goody's Bar, she doesn't expect her night to collide with danger-or with Diablo Romano, a man whose very name sends tremors through the underworld. Dark-suited, merciless, and untouchable, Diablo rules his empire with cold precision... until April's defiance catches his attention.
Drawn into his shadowed world, April finds herself torn between fear and fascination. Every glance from Diablo burns deeper than the last, awakening a desire she can't deny-and a peril she can't escape. But behind his deadly control lies a secret war against his own blood: Abel Romano, the brother who betrayed him. As the Rossi Cartel moves to strike and loyalties fracture, April becomes both pawn and prize in a game of vengeance.
With her friends Aria, Jammie, and Joe caught in the crossfire, and allies like Brian and Karen concealing dangerous truths, April must decide how far she's willing to fall for the man the world calls a devil.
Because once you belong to Diablo Romano, there's no turning back.
Will April surrender to the darkness that craves her-or will loving the Mafia King be the one sin she can't survive?
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
DIABLO
I take one last look at her, committing the image to memory. If she's still here when I come back tomorrow, we'll both be in deep trouble. Big trouble.
I drink her in, trying to fix every detail in my head, the tilt of her neck, the little way she cocks her head when she listens, that shy smile that hints at something more.
Desire hides behind it, barely contained. I could stand here for hours watching her, but I won't.
Maybe fate put her in my path to test me. She loves Rome, she's learning Italian, she likes bowling, her voice is like soft liquid silk that slips into my ears, her pink lips look made for kissing, her body is shaped so my hands would want to trace her curves.
Stop it. Just because she shares my tastes doesn't mean she wants to throw away her life and start anew in a foreign country for my sake.
She has a life here, people who care about her. I can't ask her to drop all of that for me. Besides, getting two sets of escape papers would be much harder than getting one.
I leave the bar and find Brian crouched low behind the wheel of the hire car. I can't park my own anywhere near here, it would be noticed straight away. I move around and climb into the passenger seat.
He pulls away. "How'd it go?" he asks.
"Boss is a real piece of work, Joe Harris," I say, keeping my voice even, "out of his depth, all nerves. Weak though, easy to crack. Snap a couple of fingers and he'll sing like a canary."
"Why do you think they picked this place?" Brian asks.
"Because it's a dive no one cares about," I answer.
"You're telling me, I'll need flea powder when we get back, the alley was full of rats."
"Any way into the courtyard from outside?" I ask.
"Knew you'd ask, I cut a gap in the razor wire, just big enough."
"Good."
"You sure you want to do this, boss? The Rossi Cartel don't mess around, when it comes to this sort of thing. They took the eyes out of the last guy who tried to steal from them."
"Above your pay grade, Brian."
"At least tell me why we're getting mixed up with the Rossi Cartel, they don't bother our family, we stay away. Why rock the boat over one drop? How much could it be worth?"
I think for a moment. I could keep him in the dark, but if this goes south, I'll need him sharp. The only way to make sure of that is to tell him part of the plan, not everything. Abel already made it clear, if anyone learns what's in the drop, the deal is off.
"The case holds something someone needs," I say, keeping my tone casual, "and since when were you scared of anything?"
"I just like keeping my hands attached to my arms," he replies.
"Do your job and nothing will go wrong."
"I hope it's worth it, Diablo, that's all I'm saying."
There's a lot I can't tell him, like how the case contains a tiny vial of nerve toxin, concentrated enough that one drop will kill in seconds. A single sniff and your face melts away. It's been strengthened to a concentration that could wipe out an entire conference hall full of people, if left unchecked. Which it will do, if I don't get hold of it.
Or how the Rossi Cartel are using Goody's Bar to hide the vial until the summit. Or that the man who intends to use it is the same one who killed my parents. That makes this personal, not business. Or that Abel has offered me a deal I can't refuse, a way out. I go where he cannot. I take the vial and get it to him before his lab notices it's missing.
Do that and he clears my record, he makes me vanish. I'll be able to live in the light instead of always moving in shadows, free to go home at last, after all these years. No one watching me, no one out to kill me. I'll be a new man in Rome, a nobody with no past, no family, no criminal file.
"Not going to be easy," Brian says, pulling me out of my thoughts, "the Rossi Cartel can be nasty when you cross them."
"Which is why we're doing this quiet, just you and me, no one else hears a word about the drop, got it?"
"Got it. You got a plan yet?"
"Tell me what you scoped out," I say.
He runs through the layout, the streets outside the bar, the razor wire around the courtyard and the gap he cut, the positions of cameras on nearby buildings. I half listen, half replaying moments from inside the bar, images of April burning behind my eyes. I hope she takes tomorrow night off. If things go wrong it could turn into a bloodbath, like he said. She could get killed in the crossfire.
Better she stays home and stays safe, that way I can get this done, grab the vial, hand it to Abel, and walk away. That's the plan. Get in, get out, be gone. Simple, if everything goes right.
I picture a new life, anonymous and clean. In Rome, a man who does not exist will appear, a nobody who can breathe in the daylight without looking over his shoulder. I let the thought linger for a heartbeat, the promise of it warming me.
"You getting distracted?" Brian waves his hand in front of my face.
"Since when have I ever been nervous?" I reply, forcing a laugh.
He snorts. "Just messing with you, boss. You're not yourself tonight. Something happen in there?"
I think of April's hand when I pressed mine into it to give her the hundred, the way she drew a sharp breath, her pupils widening. In that moment, I'm sure she'd have been wet between her legs, I tell myself. She needed the money, I heard them talking about late paychecks. If it wasn't for the job, I'd have taken Joe into his office, cracked his skull, maybe emptied his safe and handed her the lot. I know Joe wouldn't go to the police, who rats on a mob boss and lives to tell about it?
I can't risk acting on that now. Cracking his nose would be satisfying, but it would ruin the whole cover story that's so important. I need him unsettled because nerves make men make mistakes, mistakes I can use.
The drop is tomorrow night, the plan set. I make sure Joe sees me watching, make sure he knows my face. Once the Rossi Cartel leave, I'll get him to hand over the suitcase, then I go. It's that simple.
As long as April isn't there, nothing should go wrong. If she is, I'll lose focus and she's likely to get hurt.
All I can do is hope she does as I asked and takes the night off. The rest I leave to fate.
You may also like

9.5
Alina was the eldest daughter of the prestigious Padilla family, but everyone mocked her as a defective dud who couldn't cast a single spell.
The moment she woke up, her father and younger sister Karina barged into her room, demanding she sign a transfer agreement to the Aethelgard Order-the most brutal faction on the continent.
It wasn't just a transfer; it was a legal disownment. In her past life, Alina didn't realize Karina was also reborn. She had dropped to her knees and begged to stay. Her reward? Her magic was violently drained from her veins by her own family. Her fiancé drove a blade through her chest, and her sister stood over her bleeding body, smiling. She had ruined her hands making potions for them, only to be discarded like trash.
The phantom pain of her chest being ripped open still burned behind her ribs. Looking at the hypocritical family waiting for her tears, she felt nothing but exhausting disgust. Why should she ever be their stepping stone again?
"For the honor of the family, you leave today."
Her father sneered as she calmly bit her thumb and pressed her bloody fingerprint onto the contract. This time, Alina didn't cry. She packed a single bag and walked out the door, heading straight for the deadly Aethelgard Order to show them what a true monster looked like.

7.5
For five years, I was locked away in the freezing royal dungeon, starved and used as a bloody plaything by the kingdom's sadistic Cabinet Minister, Brandt Fischer.
He tortured me daily for one twisted reason: I simply looked like someone else.
When he visited my cell to casually announce my father's execution and drag a silver dagger across my neck, he expected me to beg.
Instead, I laughed, sank my teeth directly into his carotid artery, and was violently thrown against a jagged stone wall to my death.
As my skull cracked and my blood stained the moss, I thought about my so-called family. The moment Brandt had demanded me, my father, the Duke, handed me over without a single hesitation to save his own political career.
I was nothing but a disposable pawn, left to rot in the dark while the monsters who ruined my life thrived.
I died suffocating on my own blood and absolute, destructive vengeance.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I was lying in my silk-sheeted bed, reborn as my fifteen-year-old self.
Today was the exact day Lord Daryl Langley, the God of War, would be ambushed and crippled—the event that allowed Brandt to seize ultimate power.
I immediately stole a horse, rode to the palace gates, and threw myself directly in front of Daryl's moving carriage.
"I just didn't want to see a hero die like a slaughtered pig."
I didn't care if I had to shatter my own ankle to hijack his convoy. This time, I was going to save the general, and he would become the blade I use to slaughter them all.

9.6
She was sold as a broodmare. He was a warrior with no memory. Together, they'll burn down the world.
Lyra has been called many things: half-blood, mongrel, dirty blood. Rejected by every pack she's approached, she's given one final chance-as a bride to Ronan, the cruel Alpha of Red River Pack. But when her wedding night becomes a nightmare, she stabs her new husband and flees into the frozen wilderness.
Stellan remembers nothing. Not his name, not his past, not the ancient tattoos covering his body. He only knows that when he sees a terrified woman falling from a cliff into an icy river, he must save her-even if it kills him.
On the run from a vengeful Alpha and his army of hunters, Lyra and Stellan discover an impossible bond growing between them. The moon has chosen them as mates. But Stellan's memories are returning, and with them, a devastating truth: he's not just any wolf. He's the Alpha of the North Star Pack. And a half-blood can never be his Luna.
Now Ronan's brother has sworn revenge, an ancient prophecy awakens, and three packs prepare for war. Lyra must prove that bloodlines mean nothing-and that the most powerful bond of all is forged in ice and fire.
He lost his memory. She lost her freedom. Together, they'll find everything.

9.0
The biopsy report slid across the cold metal desk, stamped with a brutal death sentence: advanced gastric cancer. Aretha had exactly ninety days left to live.
It was her twenty-sixth birthday, but her phone only rang with a furious call from her husband, Anders.
"Do you have any idea how much of a joke you made this family look like today? Post a public apology to Kelli right now."
He had completely forgotten her birthday, only caring that she skipped her adopted sister's yacht party.
When Aretha dragged her failing body back to the family estate, her biological mother slapped her across the face just for looking pale and embarrassing them in front of guests.
Seeing Aretha wasn't submitting to the usual abuse, Kelli deliberately threw herself down the stairs, playing the innocent, depressed victim.
Anders rushed in and shoved Aretha brutally against the wall to protect Kelli, while her biological father delivered his ultimate threat.
"I am freezing your trust fund. Get on your knees and apologize to Kelli right now, or you won't see another dime."
A massive, suffocating sense of absurdity washed over Aretha. She had spent six years lowering her head and begging for their approval, only to be treated like a disposable placeholder. Why should she spend her final days enduring this agonizing torture for people who didn't even care if she breathed?
Aretha wiped the blood from her chin and laughed. She publicly severed all ties with her family, whipped the signed divorce papers directly at Anders's face, and walked out into the freezing storm—ready to fight for her own life.

9.6
When a global anomaly awakens dormant powers within them, a neuroscientist, a physicist, and an artist discover they are connected by a force that defies time itself. Mert sees the memories of strangers. Elena witnesses the fabric of reality crack. Kai paints symbols from a past he never knew. Thrown together by fate, they are not alone. Across the globe, others are awakening too-gifted with extraordinary abilities. But they are not the only ones. A powerful cabal-a ruthless financier, a tech mogul, and a charismatic influencer-sees the anomaly not as a warning, but as a weapon. Their ambition shatters the timeline, scattering the group across history: from the smog-choked streets of Victorian London to a transhumanist future, and into a terrifying parallel present. Broken into three teams, the group must hunt their enemies through time itself. To survive, they must master their new powers and forge bonds of love and loyalty strong enough to bend the laws of physics. Their final battle will not be fought in any single era, but at the crossroads of all realities, where the key to existence-the very heart of time-is at stake.

8.7
I was dying in a cold hospital bed, listening to the monitor count down my final seconds.
As a ghost, I watched my own funeral. My popular friends and wealthy family soon moved on, but one person stayed.
Cas Riley. The invisible outcast from the back of my history class.
He brought a white rose to my grave every single day, withering away until he collapsed on the frozen ground, dying of a broken heart for a girl who barely knew his name.
Opening my eyes again, the hospital smell was gone. I was reborn back in my high school classroom.
I immediately tracked him down, only to witness the brutal hell he was trapped in.
He was humiliated by a cruel foreman for pennies, violently slapped by his uncle over his sick mother's medical money, and forced into bloody street fights.
He was starving, covered in bruises, and completely alone.
When I tried to buy him medicine and step into his life to protect him, he violently pushed me away in the pouring rain.
"Stay out of my life! To protect you, I have to fight, and when I fight, I lose everything!"
He wasn't rejecting me out of hate. He was terrified that his dark, violent reality would drag me down with him.
Standing soaked in the rain, my resolve hardened like steel.
Gentle kindness wasn't going to save him from this hell.
To protect the boy who died for me, I had to become ruthless enough to tear down his entire rotten world and build him a new one.