SugaryWinter

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]

Kidnapped by the Italian Mafia

Dressing in white for my wedding day was not something I'd ever thought I'd do. When I was a child, I always saw myself strutting down the aisle in a red wedding dress, fierce like the warrior I was and refusing to submit to tradition. When I was a little older, I considered a black wedding dress, symbolism of my ultimate power. Older than that still, I switched the thought to a purple one, symbolism of my royal status in the mafia world. White had simply never been an option for me. 


As I stood in front of the mirror, running my hands down the skirt of my white one-shoulder dress, I couldn't have imagined anything more perfect. Wearing white to marry Henri seemed so right, not because either of us were pure, but because the core of our relationship was. Underneath the wild sex and—technically speaking—enabling of each other's dark side, I knew that we were it for each other. 


The Elopement